The mad dash
My flight was this morning at 9:00 from Kansas City. Keep that in mind. The Mo-X shuttle was supposed to leave at 5:30. My alarm clock was set for 4:30. So how, you are asking, did I wake up at 5:55 this morning? I committed the oldest mistake in the alarm-clock-setting-on-an-important-occasion book, I failed to attend to the minor detail of am and pm. Classic, right? So I am running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off, waking up both my poor roommates screaming "What am I going to do, how could this happen, what do I do?!?" When I finally get my wits about me, I call a taxi, run to the ATM to get the exorbitant amount of money the trip will cost, and then begin pacing the apartment, willing the taxi to hurry. By the time it gets there, it is 6:30 and by all calculations, there is no way I can make it, but I tell her to "step on it" (It actually wasn't quite so Hollywood) and we go flying to the airport doing 80, the driver hacking, smoking, and cussing the whole way. (Actually it was pretty Hollywood.) At 8:35 I arrive at KCL and rush through check in and security check in record time (apparently my terrorist activities are ignored when I'm in a hurry) and, miraculously, I make my flight by the hairs of my chinny chin chin. By this time I have enough adrenaline to motivate a small army. Yeah, it was grand fun.
-On a better note, I sat by a guy that looked like Jared Leto. I, however, looked like I had just woken up an hour and a half late and narrowly missed my flight. You get the picture.
-On a better note, I sat by a guy that looked like Jared Leto. I, however, looked like I had just woken up an hour and a half late and narrowly missed my flight. You get the picture.