I’m too lazy to google it so here’s hoping the sieve that is my memory is right. Wasn’t it Erma Bombeck who said when you look like your passport photo it’s tine to go home? I think that’s right.
What does it mean when you catch yourself in the mirror of the airplane’s lavatory and see your temples have finally gone grey? And seemingly in the last few weeks?
And what does it mean that your flight crew is so possessive and clingy that even though it’s a new plane… and it’s been eight years since United and Continental merged, that a flight attendant brings his or her own branded locker to the galley? For one thing, you DO NOT open that door.
And then there’s the second layover airport that has a good number of power outlets in the terminal gate… except they are NOT to be used with hair dryers. If you hand carry your hair dryer does that have to come out of your bag at security?
Blah blah blah. I’m jet lagged delirious and just posting in a fog of underslept date-line crossing confusion.
Maybe it’s because I can’t figure out if I’ve messed up my schedule and will wind up missing the marathon.
My brain hurts. This was posted yesterday… and it claims there’s two days until race day… yet it says packet pickup starts *tomorrow* on April 6th.
Discounting date lines and time shifts and everything, that still means ostensibly it would be three days until race day, right? To the best of my understanding, I arrive Friday night in Guam… so pick up on Saturday for the (gulp) 3 am start on Sunday morning should still work. Right? Ugh! Time zones!
No wonder I’m going grey. Can’t be that the years are catching up, the wrinkles on my face more telling than rings inside a tree’s trunk.
Can’t be that.
When you look and feel your age, what does that mean, Ms Bombeck? Where’s your pithy musings on life when I need them?