Visiting a big city is weird. I’m not from a small town, per-say, but it definitely has that small town feel to it. Seattle is not a small town.
There is a man yelling, “Fuck you!” outside the window of my sister’s apartment. How comforting.
I’ve never really flown all by myself before (I know, I was actually surprised when I realized that, too), so today was full of new experiences. I got through security without forgetting to leave my mace at home or having a total heart attack, so things were looking up…until I waited for about 40 minutes at the wrong gate. By the time I finally realized that no, there were no other passengers waiting alongside me in this totally empty terminal, so go upstairs, you idiot, they were boarding the plane and I really had to pee. Sprinting to the bathroom with a suitcase in hand is not really fun, nor is it attractive.
I’d like to quickly add that having straight across bangs and then sweating/running/being generally frazzled can cause beauty complications. I count my blessings that I’ve had a boyfriend for almost a year and therefore no longer need to worry about what I look like for the opposite sex. However, when you get off a (very bumpy) flight and every woman in the Seattle airport is wearing 5 inch heels and you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt and Vans…well, your self esteem can really go in the pooper.
So anyway, I’m boarding the plane and my suitcase is being a jerk, banging into the seats of stuffy First Class passengers (who even does that, smugly rides in First Class with arm rests and wide seats and a curtain blocking them from the peasants…okay, that doesn’t sound so bad…) and practically bouncing off a child’s head at one point. I kind of hate my suitcase, and I think it’s time that it face its fate: spending the rest of eternity in a dumpster under old banana peels and creepy children’s dolls. One of its wheels is broken and makes that awful noise that you get when you stick playing cards in bike spokes and ride for a mile. Basically, it drew even more attention to my awesome (and completely fashionable) self in Sea-Tac once I got off the plane.
Stop distracting me — I’m still boarding the plane! Actually, right now I’m sitting in the wrong seat and realizing it and moving and knocking into someone (I’m not really a small person, so cramped planes don’t work super well for me). I finally sit down and the lady next to me looks grumpy, so I just close my eyes and try to forget the fact that I’m going to feel very, very sick once this plane is in the air. The flight attendants are super nice and have pretty hair, so I’m thinking that their general good-hygene is going to help me not die in a plane somewhere over central Washington, but no, no, the plane takes off and we’re tumbling around like rocks in a dryer, or other things that don’t belong in a dryer, like cats or sticks. So we’re tumbling, and I’m very unhappy and the “snack mix” is only comforting me a little bit, and then we finally land and we all whip out our cell phones.
I find that bit funny. The second they allow us to use our cell phones, we all pull ours out and turn them on, like something earth shattering happened in the hour that we weren’t paying attention. The amount of buzzing and dinging and jingling (possibly some jangling) that occurred within 5 minutes was ridiculous.
So we leave and the woman behind me is basically pushing me down the aisle (because obviously getting off of the plane 5 seconds faster is imperative), and then I got lost in the airport for about 30 minutes trying to find the light rail, and then once I finally found it (at the other end of the airport), a little Chinese man sat in front of me eating walnuts.
And then a cab driver who was not truly a cab driver tried to get us to ride to my sister’s apartment with him. And another cab driver came up and started yelling at him, telling us “He’s not a real cab driver,” and taking pictures…so I promptly removed my suitcase from his trunk. Apparently he was only allowed to drive people if they called in advance, and he charged a really expensive flat rate.
So basically Seattle (or maybe just travel in general) freaks me out. I like it, but there are a lot of ambulances and scary people taking my suitcase in their “cabs” and men hitting on me and…basically, there are no cows within a 20 mile radius, and that is just not acceptable.