Time To Migrate With The Birds

This has definitely been one of the most non-hectic weeks leading up to a trip for me.  After doing a small load of laundry and casually packing my bag while some mindless drivel was on the TV, I was in bed at 10 p.m. and probably passed out shortly thereafter.  I woke up at 4 a.m., and usually getting only a few hours sleep, if that, before a trip, I feel pretty refreshed.  From opening my eyes, showering and pulling out of the driveway, on my way to the Marriott to park my car and take their shuttle, and at the airport in well under an hour.  I always check my bags at the curb because it takes 3 minutes and there's never anyone there.  Then I walk past all the people who don't do that and stand in the lines at the counter (wtf?).  There was a long line at security, but it went fast.  Even with doing my spread-eagle x-ray scan (I was hoping to be frisked since it's been a while since I've been touched in my hoo-hoo region inappropriately), I was enjoying a nice, greasy Sbarro breakfasty something-or-other an hour and a half before my flight leaves.

My ex, John, used to get up  20 minutes before a flight and literally break speed records to get to the airport.  I'll never forget the time that we were flying out and he put the suitcase down at the trunk to put some things in the car and then proceeded to back up over it and drag it 20 feet before I got him to stop, thinking it was a small child.  His bag, forever scarred from being dragged, and me forever reminding him the importance of being early and not rushing for the rest of our relationship.  I've always been the kind of person that would rather be early to the airport than to be running to the gate.  You never know what's going to go wrong and I like to be preparted.  Of course, there's always the chance of your bags being shipped somewhere else, like Timbuktu.  I've always wanted to visit there anyway.  It's been a destination of interest of mine since I was little, since my mother always talked of shipping me off to this exotic land.  Something tells me that my having an interesting adventure there wasn't as prominent a reason to her as getting me out of her hair.

I have coffee, a fresh Entertainment Weekly magazine, I made a sissy and I'm at the gate.  There's a supposed snow storm about to hit Pittsburgh in a few hours that I'll miss.  It's to be 78 degrees in Florida.  All is good.