One of my least favourite things. Packing. Start-Up idea – enter your type of trip to an app (of course) and someone delivers a packed bag to you at the airport. Probably going to have some security issues. Scratch that.
Anyways, I hate packing. I completed said dreadful exercise at 2:01am, 9.5 hours before my flight takeoff to LAX. 7.5 hours before the advised check-in time at the airport (which I never, never do). And I probably overpacked. But sleep trumps any desire to dump all my shit out and re-packing. Internal thought: I’ll just shed things as I go.
Sleep for a solid 5 hours. Wake up. Do a bunch of boring stuff I had written down to do in the morning. Arrive at airport. Eat massive Subway breakfast sandwich. Go through customs. Congratulate myself for making such good time. Premature internal victory though: realize that I did not do all the things I had written down on my “morning to-do list”. THEN realize that, a good solid hour before my adventures even begin, I had already dropped and misplaced my Nexus card all in the span of the minute walk from clearing customs to heading to security. Good, solid beginnings. #clumsbot
Arrive in LA for my long ass layover. Confirmed that I most definitely overpacked. Evident by the sore shoulders I obtained from my short 5 minute walk from Terminal 2 to Terminal 3 in LA. I think I’ve got a solid 3 more years ahead of me before walking around like a total noob in a backpack sandwich (well, technically a me sandwich as I’m the meat that is squished between two backpacks but way less self explanatory) is
acceptable, tolerable, not completely embarrassing for myself.
Now that I’ve walked from Terminal 2 to 3, checked-in, got patted down by a security guard that called me “hon”, got rejected at the star alliance lounge, walked back to Terminal 2, got patted down by another security guard that called me “sweetie,” I’m drinking all the free booze (“acceptable drinking time” doesn’t exist in airports lounges right? #nojudgement) in the Maple Leaf Lounge until I have to drag my tired ass back to T3 for my 9:45pm flight. Yaaaaaay long airport layovers.
Magical things that could happen that I would love: Get upgraded for my upcoming 13hr flight to Auckland, New Zealand. Get an entire row of seats to myself. Be able to not sit right beside the toliets (my current pedicament). Sleep the whole flight. No crying tiny humans. No fire-y deaths inside a metal tube. In no particular order.
2015.11.15 Sleep Log: Slept 5 hours. Solid stress-free sleep.