Flying on airplanes is dangerous

And not because they might crash.

No, you have much more to fear:

• Who should I sit next to? Will the cute guy think I'm hitting on him (when I clearly am) if I offer him my peanuts (even though I want the peanuts)? If an old guy sits next to me, am I in for hell for the next 2 hours? (No, sir, those remarks aren't appreciated). I personally always choose a middle-aged lady to sit next to. It's the safest bet. Unless they don't have a wedding ring on--then you might be sitting through a kitty-cat slide show for the duration of the flight.


• The endless line to go to the bathroom (or trying to get up and out of your seat before the other person does as soon as the "vacancy" sign goes on). Sometimes awkward eye contact is made and a stare-down for the toilet ensues.


• Trying to decipher what the 'wear your seat belt' sign really means. "Is this sign intended for everyone or just for those people whose bladders aren't going to explode? Is it ok if I get up? Will I die? Will I accidentally trip and burst into the cockpit and cause the plane to take a nose dive? It can't be that dangerous. If it was, then the ladies tottering on high heels while trying to juggle pop, alcohol, straws, nuts, and napkins would be done for."


• Exactly how loud is the engine? Can my surrounding neighbors hear me whisper Cosmo articles to my friend? Will they judge us?


• Will I cause the plane's route to accidentally veer into the Bermuda Triangle if I forget to put my phone on airplane mode?


• Will I get in trouble if I don't sit in my assigned seat?
  

You may think these are all irrational fears, yet I have had the pleasure of personally experiencing each and every one of them. I fly quite a bit and I sometimes think I have everything figured out. Then I am proven ridiculously wrong.

I was lucky enough to get to experience the 'what does the wear your seat belt sign actually mean' conundrum last week when I was flying from Houston back to Dallas.

My friend/coworker and I had spent the two-hour delay in the only "restaurant" in the Houston "Hobby" airport: Buffalo Wild Wings. In my opinion, Buffalo Wild Wings was very confused. It couldn't figure out if it was a bar, a restaurant, a night club, or a eating facility in an airport. (Hint: it was the latter). The tables were uncomfortably close together, the music was loud and fast, and there were lights flashing on and off. "What the heck?!" I thought, "It's Thursday afternoon in the Houston Airport. It's not 1am Saturday in a club downtown Dallas. Get your act together Hobby."

We split a few wings and ended up having a few drinks instead when we decided we didn't trust the food. Hey, calories are calories, right? It still counts as dinner even when consumed in liquid form.

The plane is finally ready for us to board. We get on and are ready to finally get home....until we sit there and wait for another 45 minutes. We are given no information as to when we are going to leave, the stewardesses haven't done anything, and people are moving around. I have to go to the bathroom so bad, so I decided to get up and go. Everyone else is.

When I reach the front of the plane, the stewardess decides (rudely, mind you) to blame the entire delay on me. "Oh, no no no, young lady. You are holding this whole plane up! Sit back down." I am extremely embarrassed and walk back to my seat in shame...as another person gets up to use the restroom and isn't scolded like a school girl. What the heck?!

The plane takes off. The captain says we have reached our cruising altitude YET he doesn't turn the seat belt sign off. I'm confused. This is when the sign goes off. I know this. Apparently, so do others. They begin getting up and using the restroom. By now, I have been holding it for about 1.5 hours and it is really, really mad at me. "I'm so sorry, bladder, but I am scared out of my mind of that stewardess. The claws almost came out. We can't go."

I'm fidgeting in my seat when my friend goes, "Haley, didn't you have to use the restroom?"
"Erm, yes but that stewardess is still giving me the evil eye."
"Well, look! Other people are going. It's ok; we've reached altitude."
"No, I really don't think it's ok. The seat belt sign is still on."
"Haley, seriously, come on. It's fine. Other people are walking all over. Plus I have to go so I'll go after you."
"Ok, you're right. This is silly. This is a vital need and I need to fulfill it." (Ok, I didn't really say that but I was thinking it).

So I go to the bathroom and am walking back when the same stewardess is in front of me handing out drinks. My seat is right there. I can see it. Just...let...me....sit.....WHACK!! IN THE FACE.

While I had been patiently waiting behind the stewardess, she suddenly whips her tray around and hits me straight in the face with her drink serving tray. 7 rows of peoples' mouths drop in shock. Instead of apologizing, she immediately gets angry and harshly says, "UGH! What are you doing up??" and hurries back to the front of the plane. There is no, "Are you ok? Can I get you anything? I'm sorry..." NOPE.

I sway back to my seat and sit down. I. Am. In. Shock. I have never been treated like this in my whole life. Obviously the tray-to-the-face thing was an accident, but actually blaming me for it when they tray was in your hands? I don't understand.

People around me were asking if I was ok. I was, but my head hurt. So my friend read Cosmopolitan to me to make me feel better. And it worked. Because some of the stuff in there is just ridiculous--it doesn't make any sense.

But the stewardess NEVER apologized, never asked if I needed ice (when a bump started forming) and never looked me in the eye the next 3-4 times she passed my seat. Don't worry, I gave her the stare-down. She knew.

But for real, what the heck was she thinking?? Did I have a target on my back? Why was I the only one not allowed to get out of my seat to go to the bathroom and the only one scolded for it twice?? Ok, Southwest, I'm not a big fan anymore. Your low rates aren't that low anymore and the last 4 flights I've taken have been delayed. And then THIS?? Excuse me, but I do believe a re-evaluation is in order.

So this is the most exciting flight experience I've had since last Christmas when I slept through my flight and almost missed the second one. And November when I shamelessly flirted with an Air Force pilot for 2 hours. I'm sure I'll have many more to come. I'm flying back to Kansas City August 5th so I'm sure I'll have a story for ya then.

Until next time, listen to the seat belt sign. It could mean life or death...or an altered physical appearance.

Oh, Leo!

The sun was shining through the windows as I slowly opened my eyes and stretched my arms. My sheets and blankets were crisp and clean after just being washed and it felt sooo goood to be snuggled in them. I awoke from a wonderful dream where I just met Leonardo DiCaprio in Central Park and he asked me out on a date. It was a beautiful day in Dallas and I thought, "Finals are over! What should I do on this wonderful day?".......

"Wait.......it's light outside.........wasn't I supposed to do something when it was dark outside.......? Yes, yes, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wake up when it was dark out and do something relatively important....."

OH SHIT

I was supposed to FLY HOME!

I immediately grab my phone. Yep, my flight left an hour and a half ago. I have 15 missed alerts. The cab driver called me 8 times and left a few voicemail messages. My dad called twice. Immediately dialing my daddy to see if he can offer any condolences, he answers, "Good morning beautiful!" obviously not realizing I am supposed to be thousands of feet up in the air without phone service. "DAD! I SLEPT THROUGH MY FLIGHT!"

"Well what are you talking to me for?! Call Southwest immediately! And pull out the works. You've been sick with food poisoning; you just finished a stressful week of finals; you're just trying to get home to your family. Do whatever it takes." Thanks, dad.

I hang up and call Southwest. Already condemning myself to either having to chill in Dallas for a few more days or fork over 300 dollars for a flight home, as soon as someone picks up on the other end I begin pleading: "Please-please-please-I-missed-my-flight-and-I've-been-really-really-really-sick-with-food-poisoning-and-I'm-just-trying-to-get-home-for-the-Holidays-and-I'm-so-so-so-so-stressed-because-I-just-finished-finals-and-I-am----"

"Honey, relax. What's your name?"
*Gives full name*
"OK, let me pull up your confirmation."

After waiting on the phone for 20 minutes (where I am multi-tasking by brushing my teeth, getting dressed, and doing some last-minute packing) she says another flight is available at 9:15 AM---would I like that one? "YES OF COURSE!" At no charge, she puts me on that flight and says I should have no problems flying home.

*Fist pump into the air*

"Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me."
"You're welcome, sweetie. We know you have lots of options when you choose your airline, so we thank you for flying Southwest." (Yes, I have flown with them that many times so I have it memorized, thank you.)

Oh, wait, you thought the fun was over? Look who you're talking to! Guess again.

So I book a taxi online for 8:10 AM (yes, I naturally wake up at 7:30 AM with no alarm. That's sleeping in when you get up at 5 AM every morning for practice). I receive a confirmation e-mail saying my taxi will be there at 8:10. So I throw all my luggage down the stairs, pull it outside, and wait for my cab.

8:15. No cab.

So I call. "Yes, I booked a cab online for 8:10 and they aren't here yet and I'm kind of in a crunch." She responds, "Yes, is this *Says name* at *says address*?" "Yes, that's correct." "Ok, your cab is on it's way." "Great, thanks."

8:21. No cab.

So I call. "Hi, I called a little while ago and you said my cab was on its way, but it's still not here yet. I'm *gives name* at *gives address*" It's the same lady. "I'm sorry, we don't have a recorded reservation for you." WHAAAAT?! I just talked to you on the phone and you confirmed it! She tries to sort it all out but I just say, "Ok, it doesn't matter if you lost my reservation. Can you get a cab here soon, please?" "Yes ma'am. It'll be there in 5 minutes." "Super. Thanks."

8:29. No cab.

Another cab from another cab company drives by. I flag him down. After waiting on a cab that is 20 minutes late, I have 45 minutes to get to the airport, check my bags, get through security, find my gate, get my boarding pass, and get on the plane. It's gonna be close.

To avoid morning traffic, I ask him to go through the neighborhoods to cut down the time. Little did I know that going 20 MPH in a school zone meant 15 MPH for him. That was a MISTAKE.

I check my bags. One is over-weight and the baggage guy says they might not make the flight because I checked them 25 minutes before the plane takes off. I don't even care anymore--I just want to get on that plane! He says they'll do their best. I say, "I hope so," and give him a big tip. He smiles and says, "We'll make it work."

I run to the security line and take off my hat, scarf, gloves, coat, and shoes like I'm about to jump into a freezing-cold pond to save someone's life. I then take out my computer and get it all situated according to airport security's specifications in record time. All the jewelry comes off as if by magic. I practically run through the metal detector and just as quickly put everything back on, grab my stuff, and run to the gate.

When I arrive at 9:05 for my 9:15 flight, they're already boarding B class (out of A-C) and I still need to pick up my boarding pass from the desk. Waiting behind a few ladies with children (families on flights, arg!), I finally breathlessly say, "Boarding pass for Haley ********" She easily hands it to me. 9:09.

I run up to the guy who scans your ticket and onto the plane. It's packed. If I sit near the back, I'll vom. I shove my bag into an already stuffed overhead compartment and hope that no one had anything fragile up there. I then slump into a middle seat between two old guys.

And then I do a fist pump into the air. I DID IT!



To sum it all up, I was in Kansas City by 11:00 AM, my bags DID make my flight, and I blame beautiful Leonardo DiCaprio for all of this. Because if he wasn't so beautiful, then I would have left that dream a long time ago and probably would have made my first flight. But then, I wouldn't have this great story and my life would be that much more boring.

So I guess, Leo, you're welcome in my dreams anytime.

What a Finale!!

And by "finale", I suppose I mean "finals". And by "finals", I suppose I mean the one I missed this morning.

Yep, you guessed it: didn't quite make it to my 8 AM Marketing Final. Not by choice, however. My body decided to have a complete and utter breakdown from 9:30 PM last night to 4:00 AM this morning on account of one tiny, itsy-bitsy, little, "harmless" slice of cheese pizza. This is the piece of pizza that I almost didn't eat after reading that one tiny, itsy-bitsy, little, "harmless" slice of cheese pizza costs you over 700 calories. But I was hungry, my salad wasn't satisfying my loudly growling stomach, and the 5 kids I was babysitting were helping me burn more than those 700 calories soooooooooo.....I ate it. MISTAKE.

Fast forward one hour later and I am glued to their couch. I feel really bad because I usually am a lot more fun when I babysit and I like to do stuff with the kids. But I couldn't...do...anything. I have a really sensitive stomach so I figure it's just my stomach being sensitive to the fact that I don't usually eat that many carbs or greasy cheese in one sitting. "It'll pass," I think. WRONG.

Then, one of the boys laying on the couch goes, "Are you guys sick?"

"yES!" I say in a crescendo like I have just made a huge discovery and found humanity's missing link. The other two boys go, "Yeah, I'm really sick too. I feel terrible." I ask, "Do you guys feel weak? Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" "Yes," they respond. "Did you eat the pizza?" "Yes," they respond. "Oh no. Oh no no no." I say as I shake my head. "What's wrong, Haley?" they ask. "I think we all have food poisoning". "WHAAAT?" They're concerned. I try to calm their fears but inside I am freaking out.

I have had food poisoning once before. It was the day after my 16th birthday and I was in Universal Studios in Florida with my family. The entire Hard Rock Cafe had just sang me "Happy Birthday" as I stood on a stage and then I had the most amazing milkshake ever. It was one of the best days of my life.

So we were walking around after that and I start feeling sick. So I get sick. EVERYWHERE. I pretty much covered Universal Studios with my milkshake and whatever else was in my tummy. I couldn't control myself...or find a trashcan anywhere---their fault, not mine. A policeman sees us and immediately gets me some water. But I can't keep it down. I start feeling so incredibly weak that I can't walk anymore. Therefore, I sit down and lean against a huge concrete pillar barely able to keep my eyes open with a red SOLO cup of water in my hand while my family tries to find help. Yes, I look like I'm WASTED. People were walking by me, pointing and mumbling, "It looks like someone's had too much to drink..." I wanted to yell, "I'M SIXTEEN! I DON'T DRINK!" but I didn't have enough energy.

My dad comes back with a wheelchair. I look at him like, "Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" but inside I am jumping for joy. What a genius. I am so thankful.

I spend the rest of the evening in our hotel bathroom trying trying trying to feel better for our 6 AM flight home the next day. I'm not.

So my family gets up the next day and is trying to help me get ready to leave. I can't do anything. Then my brother who is 18 months younger than me starts getting sick. My parents look at each other like, "WHY US?!" and try to help their sick 16 and 14 year old get ready for a 3 hour flight. They also have an 8 year old they have to deal with who doesn't really know what's going on.

We're late to turn our rental car in. I throw up in the parking garage. Then Spencer (my brother) does too.

We're late to the security line. Of course it's excessively long. All of a sudden out of nowhere and without any warning, Spencer leans over and throws up ALL OVER my brand new hot pink suitcase. Not having time to be even a little mad, I see the throw-up and start feeling sick. I run across the airport to the closest trashcan and barely make it. My parents are dumbfounded. People in line are pissed at us. Hayden (my other brother) is about to cry.

We're late to the gate. There aren't any seats together so we all have to split up. My dad politely tells the airline stewardess that his son is very sick and needs to sit with one of his parents. I'm feeling better and can manage to sit by myself, but Spencer is getting sick every 20 minutes. She is very rude and says, "You were late; there's nothing I can do. He'll have to manage." My dad looks very solemn and in his head is thinking, "Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you."

We're all situated and about to take off when the stranger sitting next to Spencer starts freaking out because, yep, he's getting sick. The airline stewardess runs to my dad and says, "Would you mind switching seats with this gentleman? I think your son needs you." He looks up at her and thinks, "REALLY?!" haha ohh goodness.

A middle-aged lady is sitting between Hayden and I. I get a little sick during the flight and Hayden is plastered against the window. He's freaking out. He doesn't know this lady, his big sister is really sick, and he doesn't know where his family is. Poor guy.

My mom is stuck in the back of the plane for 3 hours worried sick about her children who she can't take care of next to another lady who is talking about her cats and her knitting hobby.

I laugh every time I tell that story to someone. A lot happened and it's crazy that we even made our flight and stayed alive. Last night was different. All I have to show is 5 grocery bags outside my front door that I'm sure my neighbors are pissed about and a lack of sleep. Ohh, and I look like poo, my room is an utter and complete mess, and I have to take an Incomplete in one of my business school classes until I can sort it out in the spring.

AND I have a 6 AM flight tomorrow. I feel like this is a pattern. I hope I don't get sick.

Stuff Like This Never Happens to Me.

I'm boy crazy. I'm sure you've figured that out by now. I just find the opposite sex so intriguing.

I love flying alone. I usually do because I fly to-and-from school and to-and-from wherever else I feel like going (Europe. Yes, I flew alone and loved it). This has led to many talks with strangers during my flights. I also love strangers--they're interesting as well. And I think it's exciting that you will never again see the person you just spent hours talking to during your flight.

After I go through security and am about to walk up to my gate, I always always think, "Oh man, I sure hope there is a cute boy on my flight and by some miracle from God we get to sit next to each other, fall in love, get married, and have lots of babies. I would be sooooo grateful." And every time I walk up to my gate, I am greeted by disgruntled families, businessmen, and old people. My smile fades as my hopes of meeting my future husband are shattered into a tiny million pieces.

Not this time.

Which brings me to my flight yesterday from Dallas to Kansas City: the best flight of my life. I'm still semi-asleep as I walk up to the gate and am literally looking into a sea of beautiful 20-something males. "WHAT is going on here?!" I wonder. "This is just...fantastic. Now, I must choose my seat wisely. So. Many. Options."

I sit down and listen to my iPod as I wait to board the flight. To an outsider, I look like I'm minding my own business and playing a game on my phone. Wrong. I am scoping out the guys for my future boyfriend. This ensues until it's finally time to board the plane. I'm walking down the aisle when I see two cute ones in the middle and window seats. "Perfect. I'll just plop down in the aisle seat and that will be that. A two-for." Wrong. Just as I have done an imaginary fist pump in the air, a lady with a baby about 7 people in front of me takes the spot. "WHAAAAAAT?! Seriously, lady? You've already got one of those! Don't be selfish." Ugh, whatever.

So I sit across the aisle with a seat open next to me. I'll get sick if I go too far back and I'm not willing to risk looking green while I'm talking to Mr. Right. I'm texting my friend Mary-Kate (one of my twins) about how the lady should switch me seats if she knows what's good for her kid when I'm smiling to myself, look up from my phone, and make eye contact with a blond-haired, blue-eyed babe. Immediately, "Is this seat taken?" Shocked, I reply, "Oh, no it's not. You can sit here." Giggling inside, I let him by and text Mary-Kate, "Gotta go. Destiny awaits."

He graduated from the Air Force Academy, is a pilot, and lives in Texas. He let me try on his ring. He's from Kansas City and played football against my high school a few years back. We had a lot in common.

We talked during the entire hour-and-a-half flight. It was fun. It was magical.

He asked for my number.