Just a regular day
So I'm sitting here in Denver airport, waiting to catch my flight to Salt Lake for recurrent training. Getting to this point was difficult enough as Im almost positive fate has it out for me.Where do I start?
I got a flat tire yesterday. So I've been driving around with a tire ready to pop at any given moment.
I've only had one night to study for recurrent training, which mind you, is the difference between keeping my job or losing it. Leave it to High school Tara, queen of procrastination and waiting to the very last second to study. Its a proven fact though, that i thrive on last minute stress and full on meltdowns.
My flight attendant wings broke a few weeks ago, so of course the replacement wings haven't come in the mail. Driving from one end of town to the other (on a flat) desperately searching for magnets that can connect my wings to my shirt. Im positive ive spent well over 20 dollars on magnets, none of which work. So In complete desperation, i bought super glue and GLUED the damn thing to my shirt. because ill be damned as all hell if i get sent home for broken piece of metal.
Anyways, I dropped my phone in my bag as i sat in the parking lot of joannes; after fiddling with my wings, i hear my phone ringing. and thanks to my ADD i completely forget where i put my cell. I panicked and start flinging things in the front seat to the trunk, in my head thinking, "oh god what if its crew support. WHERE THE SHIT IS MY PHONE?!?!" at this point im thinking aloud and im pretty sure people walking by were wondering, what the hell is that girls problem? anyways, i start blindly rummaging through my bag, and my finger gets caught on a shaving razor. why the hell a razor was in my bag, is beyond me. I caught a good chunk of skin clean off my pinky and at this point, Im a raging maniac, bleeding everywhere and still looking for my phone. If i didn't look like a crazy at that point to people walking by, i sure as hell did then. Im about ready to cry because i havent seen my own blood in a while as im usually very careful to avoid such instances. I think i blacked out, because all i remember is clutching a plastic bag around my injured hand, RUNNING back into the store.
Honestly though, I'm not being dramatic in any way when i say i was bleeding everywhere. all over my shirt, my arm. If you just glanced at my hand, you would have thought i tore the damn finger right off my hand. So you can imagine the look on the cashiers face when i walked back in, dripping all over the damn floor. She probably thought i had HIV, judging by her expression as she shakingly grabs the first aid kit and a few gloves as i whisper, "help me..."
So once it was all bandaged up with all the gauze she could find for me I made a quick run back to my car, as it was already 1100 which was my show time, and my flight to denver left at 1157.
when i arrived to the Colorado Springs airport, I think TSA was having there own version of training, because there was a hoard of them leaving on my way in. They parted like the red sea when i ran by. I can only imagine what they saw, me clutching my hand, running like a fat kid, bloody clothes and hair a complete mess as ever, im sure.
I changed my shirt on the flight, washed up and made myself as presentable as humanly possible.
So now im here, with a throbbing pinky, still not studying, and eating a sandwhich.
This is my life now.
welcome to it.
I got a flat tire yesterday. So I've been driving around with a tire ready to pop at any given moment.
I've only had one night to study for recurrent training, which mind you, is the difference between keeping my job or losing it. Leave it to High school Tara, queen of procrastination and waiting to the very last second to study. Its a proven fact though, that i thrive on last minute stress and full on meltdowns.
My flight attendant wings broke a few weeks ago, so of course the replacement wings haven't come in the mail. Driving from one end of town to the other (on a flat) desperately searching for magnets that can connect my wings to my shirt. Im positive ive spent well over 20 dollars on magnets, none of which work. So In complete desperation, i bought super glue and GLUED the damn thing to my shirt. because ill be damned as all hell if i get sent home for broken piece of metal.
Anyways, I dropped my phone in my bag as i sat in the parking lot of joannes; after fiddling with my wings, i hear my phone ringing. and thanks to my ADD i completely forget where i put my cell. I panicked and start flinging things in the front seat to the trunk, in my head thinking, "oh god what if its crew support. WHERE THE SHIT IS MY PHONE?!?!" at this point im thinking aloud and im pretty sure people walking by were wondering, what the hell is that girls problem? anyways, i start blindly rummaging through my bag, and my finger gets caught on a shaving razor. why the hell a razor was in my bag, is beyond me. I caught a good chunk of skin clean off my pinky and at this point, Im a raging maniac, bleeding everywhere and still looking for my phone. If i didn't look like a crazy at that point to people walking by, i sure as hell did then. Im about ready to cry because i havent seen my own blood in a while as im usually very careful to avoid such instances. I think i blacked out, because all i remember is clutching a plastic bag around my injured hand, RUNNING back into the store.
Honestly though, I'm not being dramatic in any way when i say i was bleeding everywhere. all over my shirt, my arm. If you just glanced at my hand, you would have thought i tore the damn finger right off my hand. So you can imagine the look on the cashiers face when i walked back in, dripping all over the damn floor. She probably thought i had HIV, judging by her expression as she shakingly grabs the first aid kit and a few gloves as i whisper, "help me..."
So once it was all bandaged up with all the gauze she could find for me I made a quick run back to my car, as it was already 1100 which was my show time, and my flight to denver left at 1157.
when i arrived to the Colorado Springs airport, I think TSA was having there own version of training, because there was a hoard of them leaving on my way in. They parted like the red sea when i ran by. I can only imagine what they saw, me clutching my hand, running like a fat kid, bloody clothes and hair a complete mess as ever, im sure.
I changed my shirt on the flight, washed up and made myself as presentable as humanly possible.
So now im here, with a throbbing pinky, still not studying, and eating a sandwhich.
This is my life now.
welcome to it.