Back in the saddle

……And she’s back at it. After a 15 month hiatus, the Girl on a Plane is, well, back on a plane. A few tidbits about this morning: 1. Time went to bed: 12:25 am
2. Time  woke up: 4:35 am
3. Why? We saw The Book of Mormon and went to the Brooklynite after for Tiki Tuesday. The Painkiller did its job.
4. Plane departs: 6:18 am
5. Time of meeting in Chicago: 10:00 am.
6. It is way too early to have this much makeup on under my glasses
7. I can’t shake the “what the hell did I forget to pack feeling. 
8. This is not a permanent return to weekly travel.  You can expect to hear from me once, maybe twice a month
9. I got so little sleep my phone did not fully charge and my toothbrush was still wet.
10. None of this would be possible without my loving boyfriend, who woke up (albiet confused) and drove me to the airport. I will miss him terribly this week.


Travel Pet Peeve: wearing your neck pillows in the airport. There is just no need for this. It gets me irrationally angry; I just want to run up behind them and pull them of their sweaty necks and then stamp those dirty pillows into the ground. If you must bring a pillow (ie, flying coach on an international flight), attach it to your bag with a keychain or carry it.

Travel Pet Peeve: wearing your neck pillows in the airport. There is just no need for this. It gets me irrationally angry; I just want to run up behind them and pull them of their sweaty necks and then stamp those dirty pillows into the ground. If you must bring a pillow (ie, flying coach on an international flight), attach it to your bag with a keychain or carry it.


See Effie’s Style In Action

thecapitolcouture:

SEE EFFIE’S STYLE IN ACTION

From head to stylish toe, Effie is an expert at mixing party-perfect with on-the-job chic.


Hello lover. Meet my new travel companion!

Hello lover. Meet my new travel companion!


Deja Vu

I’m walking down a poorly-lit, clinical hallway. I know it’s not a hospital, as I just de-planed, but I’m not quite sure if I am in the right hallway, despite the baggage claim signs.

The problem is I don’t know where I am. As I said, I just got off a plane. I pulled my wool coat from the overhead bin and put it on, but as I stepped on the jetbridge, I realized it was way too warm for a coat. But wasn’t I going somewhere cold?

This hallway was familiar. I recall a sense of satisfaction, so last time I was here I must have had a nice flight. No clues yet to where I am. Usually there is a helpful welcome sign, like ‘Welcome to Boise: City of Trees’. That was fresh in my mind, so that must have been where I came from. Yes, yes it was! Thanksgiving. Nonie’s birthday. Cancelled plane to Chicago. Seeing Hugo in the middle of the day. It all came back to me. I find the carousel and look around. There’s a woman kissing her King Charles Spaniel and ignoring the baby stroller next to her. Every car I can see through the windows has tinted windows. I’m in Los Angeles! Hooray!

My bags come off the carousel first and I remember that I was worried about them earlier. I go outside in search of the taxi stand and notice that I smell of stale sweat, the scent that usually arrives at the end of long days, long sleeves and exhaustive travels. Maybe I’m so tired I don’t know I’m tired. I find a taxi and tell the man ‘Sheraton Gateway’ with confidence. He looks at me confused and vaguely waves forward. ‘It over there. Nineteen dollar. Or go take bus’. I have no idea what’s going on, and he clearly thinks I’m a moron. The taxi attendent gets me get out of the car and points me towards the shuttle area. It takes 10 minutes to dodge cars and pull a suitcase, duffle bag, carry-on purse and normal purse.

On the shuttle, my phone dies. I have my spare battery, so I try to pop off the back of the phone. My fingernail breaks at the the attempt, and I know I don’t have a pen. There is a small indentation for this job, and I immediately stick one of my pointy teeth into the phone. A man in a fanny pack is staring; I snarl.

We pull up to the hotel and I remember to tip the Irish driver. The desk girl asks me my last name. “Zuckman!”, I state with confidence. This one I’ve got in the bag. “Last name?”, she asks again. “Zuckman?”, I respond. I’m pretty sure. “Name?” One more time she looks at me. I’m positive my lips have been moving. I glance down at my license. Yes, there it is. “Zuckman, Amanda. Z as in zebra”. Maybe I’ve just been mumbling. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, it’s been paid for already.” She seems disappointed by this.

I find my 8th floor room, and suddenly things make sense again. I find the lamp and proceed with my usual ritual: rip off clothes and force the thermostat down to arctic temperatures. I’m lying on my bad, half-way considering room service and watching What Not to Wear. There is something I’m supposed to do regarding my flight tomorrow, but hell if I can remember (but I am flying home! Which is in San Antonio!).

Goodnight.


Good morning Chicago

Good morning Chicago


4:45 am

The TSA agent at security just told me I’m the fastest AND most efficient person he’s ever seen go through security. That almost makes me feel better about waking up at 4 am and going outside in the 27 degree cold…almost.


Brontosaurus on the loose, Concourse B O’Hare!

Brontosaurus on the loose, Concourse B O’Hare!


Mandy: Hi, I’m Mandy, welcome. Here’s your seat, feel free to eat your dinner during the presentation. Please let me know afterwards if you have any questions.

Donna: Hi, I’m Donna! Are you married?

Mandy: Oh! Um, no.

Donna: Aww. Why not?

Mandy: Uh…

Donna: Do you have a boyfriend? Does anyone love you?

Mandy: I hope you enjoy the education, please let me know afterwards if you have any questions regarding real estate and investing. Only.

Providence, RI, Crowne Plaza

It is sometimes better to travel hopefully than to arrive
My prophetic fortune cookie