Traveling sucks

...especially when you travel American. I arrived at the airport at 7:20 for an 8:10 flights. I meant to get there earlier, but I missed the first train which would have gotten me there at 7. I did the auto check in, and much to my surprise it said I had missed my flight. They had moved it 20 minutes earlier and require a 30 minute advance check in.

They said it was my travel agents responsibility to tell me the flight was earlier. I recognize that I could have checked the night before, but honestly I have never had this experience before. I called the travel agent (STA), and they just told me they hadn’t received any notification and sounded generally incompetent. I asked if I would receive notification in the future, and they assured me I would, but hung up absolutely confident that I would not. (I checked my Paris flight before I left the house.

The website said no change. Oddly, when I arrived at the airport later that same day, the flight had been delayed 5 minutes but was listed as “ontime”.)

Anyway, back to my story… the only unpleasant thing that happened on the flight was one of the attendants walking up the aisle yelling in each person’s ear from behind “seat belts fastened” when we all had them fastened and she hadn’t checked. I think it damaged my hearing her voice was so shrill.

They showed the premiere of a new TV show called Cane that I made a mental note after watching never to watch again even by accident. Then they showed Gracie, a movie about a girl who wants to play on the boys’ HS soccer team. I cried. I’d give it 3 stars. They also played several reruns of Cheers and Fraiser.

One full hour passed between when we landed and when I was reunited with my bag. I was out of cel phone range while on the subway. So, my sister was frantic with worry when I finally arrived in Fort Green close to 9 p.m.

Waiting for my Paris flight, and everything went smoothly. I went through security in my little tank top and capris (it's warm!) – the security girl laughed at me, I think because there was just no way I could set off the alarm since I was nearly naked.

My friend Joyce (not to be confused with my mother Joyce) has been talking lately about how she can never tell if someone is attracted to her in real life. But at Burning Man, she felt liberated to express her attraction as did others towards her. She is from New York. I noticed that no one is the slightest bit shy about staring here. And I stare right back. (Maybe I flatter myself. Maybe people stare because they think I’m funny looking. But even Ilana pointed out that in New York it’s OK to admire pretty people. They certainly gaped when I was walking around with her.)