The Journey to Canada...

'Twas a long one. But the journey to the correct Airline check-in: you can't even compare the two. My mother dropped my friend and I off about thirty-three gates too late, and that's even further than it sounds when it's 4:30 AM and you're carrying at least your own dead weight all over your weak human form and, being from Arkansas, have never heard of a luggage cart. 

^me on the plane

After all my joints were pulled out of their proper sockets, I was more than content to collapse onto my floatation device seat at 6:10, despite the fact that some dude took a dump before the plane could even lift off. Between the snoring men, crying babies, and the pssssssssssssssst of someone blowing up their travel neck cushion, Cat and I looked like two wasted fairytale characters with a pigicorn between their shoulders. 

I suppose I should explain the pigicorn. You know those pillow pets you see ("only") on TV for ("just") $9999.95 (+tax & shipping & handling)? 

Cat brought this hot pink unicorn, and it just looks like a pig with a horn (or peut-etre a tooth if it were a narpig), and before we were sharing the "adorable" little thing, it just glared at me. It sounds cute…but trust me, it's evil. 

And at some point I traded pure evil for my friend and she endured 127 minutes of being stuck under me...

Also, despite the fact that I've got Crohn's disease and have ridden many planes, for the first time ever I broke down and used the restroom. While I expected it to be some sort of Hobo Jungle Park (that's a real place in my hometown, by the way), it was an incredibly spacious, lovely environment. 

http://www.booksofadam.com/2011/05/four-days-of-pretending-to-be-rabbit.html

Well, that was the flight to Philadelphia, at least...the second flight I had to sit right next to the "toilet," and I think everyone had Crohn's disease on that flight. Not only that, but I wasn't so lucky to get to sit next to mah bff due to a jam-packed plane. The lady I sat next to was, however, very kind. 

And a little strange; but then again, she was Canadian. She was this tiny, hippy-in-another-life, pink-cowboy-hat-wearing little thing, and she was very sharing. 

First she offered me some sort of liquid for the hands.

"No, thank you."

Then, "this banana's pretty big, do you want half?"

"No, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

...."what about one of these maple candies--"

"Sure."

And okay, I'll admit that even though I was simply trying to politely get her to stop offering me shit (what kind of college student am I?!), I've gotta say, that little candy was pretty badass. It was like a little plastic wrapper sample of sweet Aunt Jemima's love. 

Some weirder things happened with my neighbor, but honestly I can't recall the details at the moment. 

Really, I lucked out. I know for a fact it could have been a lot worse, just like whatever roommate you get signed up to live with freshman year of college. Or like the time Alissa and I were leaving New Orleans and actually talked to one of said-possible-passengers: a British man in midlife, who clearly had something wrong with him, as he kept repeating the same two things every 30 seconds. 

At first, both of our eyes lit up. Some random Brit talking to us about the Beatles? But like I said. Alzheimer's jokes, they aren't funny, but this guy had something, I tell you. 

Anyways, now I'm tangenting as usual. This time, it's due to the jet lag, as I just got home last night. K. Tomorrow. Bye.