Oh my god, I am getting on a plane in 6 and a half hours! Which means I'm leaving for the airport in one hour. Naturally.
When I was flying around the country with Eden, she was dismayed to learn how early my anxiety disorder required we get to the airport. Eden can be alarmingly mellow/sane when it comes to terrifying details such as "scheduled departure times." I would like to be at the airport the night before, if at all possible. Fortunately this time I am traveling alone, and have no one to torment but myself.
I'm really not a fan of flying. Not just the hurtling through the air in a screaming death machine part: the whole process. The packing. The boarding pass-getting (will I do it wrong? Probably.). The panicking on the way to the airport because the cab/train/subway is taking longer than I think it should take. The double and triple-checking that I'm in the right airport/terminal. The long, arduous security line. The possibility of being manhandled. The idiotic shoe-removal. The waiting around the gate for two hours because God forbid I don't get there super early. The purchasing of overpriced snacks and magazines. The visiting of every restroom in the airport, because when I get anxious, my bladder goes into overdrive.
But then I'll be in San Diego! So that's fun. If you're attending Blogher along with me and the 40,000 other people, I'll be at the Mastercard BillMyParents booth on Friday, from 9:30-10:30 and again from 2-3. Copies of our book will be on sale there, and we'll be signing 'em! So please get over there and at least say HELLO, for the love of--really, what will it take, with you? I'm leaving Friday night (to join my family at Legoland for the weekend), so this will be your ONLY CHANCE to luxuriate in my presence. I hope I get to meet you. And you, and you. Okay, you too.
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