It seems whenever I leave on vacation every client of mine decides they want to suddenly discuss the world with me, close deals, discuss things, discuss my views on the global warming, and make a ginger bread house, etc. Needless to say I left the office an hour late, finished packing like a mad woman, completed a phone interview which should turn into another interview, and made it to Kerry’s house with minutes to spare (and starving).
At the airport we ended up checking our bags because God forbid we have bottles over 3oz and Kerry does look quite shifty so we didn’t want to cause a scene. So imagine my surprise when my new TSA friend/wench decided to get frisky about my contact solution (which by the way was in a damn zip lock bag and half empty).
TSA Wench: This bottle is 4 oz
Me: That is a standard travel size bottle of contact solution. They do not sell smaller bottles.
TSA-W: It’s 4 oz
Me: What is your point?
TSA-W: You’ll have to check this
Me: I am not checking a half empty bottle of contact solution when I have already checked my luggage
TSA-W: Well you can’t have this
Me: It’s half empty
TSA-W: Well it’s not like I can measure it
Me: It’s 4 oz, half of that would be 2oz
TSA-W: (evil glare)
Anyone who knows what an unfed and stressed Alexa looks and acts like can only imagine my pleasure of being involved in this conversation. I ended up letting her toss my contact solution and Kerry and I moved one step closer to the airport bar. Before the consumption of overpriced liquor I ended up going through two more airport stores looking for replacement contact solution, which I found and purchased. I did a lot of muttering about how the honey baked ham and holiday scented candles the airport was selling were all over 3oz (because I’m classy and mature like that). Oh and guess what? The bottle of contact solution I purchased was 4 oz. ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME. TSA is getting a letter.
Kerry and I made friends on our flight and ate a lot of United Airlines Fiesta Mix (bleh).
And of course when we landed we found our plane delayed out of SFO to
San Diego (it ended up being delayed three times). Boo. Thus, Kerry and I did what any other mature and classy young 20 somethings would do. . .we ran up and down those “moving walkway” things and took pictures of each other acting insane. . .then we went to the bar. . .again.
Guy sits down next to us
Guy: Didn’t I see you two like 20 minutes ago bouncing up and down the terminal?
Horary we’re airport celebrities (and they still let us back on the plane)!
Needless to say Kerry and I didn’t eat dinner until around 11pm, at a British pub in Little Italy (no really). We stayed the first night at the Best Western Bayside (awesome view of the water) and made friends with two idiot pilots one of which tried to convince us he was a porn star. Well at least they bought us drinks J