This morning, at 2:00 A. M., I rose, showered and dyed my hair orange. If that sentence alone doesn't tell you that I've had the weirdest day in recent history then... well... frankly, I'm too exhausted to think of something even remotely witty to say. But that's how it started.
Then came the drive to Eugene where I had the pleasure of listening to Sam describe, in detail, all the nastiest first responder calls he had ever gone on. Also we were late, which I must admit, made me a little panicky.
Upon arrival at the airport I was thoroughly carsick. One look at the long winding line leading to the check-in did not do a single thing to soothe my fears of missing our plane. When we finally got to the counter I was told in no uncertain terms by the grumpy woman behind the counter that I could not take my guitar as a carry-on. I checked, double checked, and finally her supervisor said it was fine.
We get through security without a hitch, for once. When we get to our gate we are the last passengers to board and the lady there tells me that I cannot bring my guitar as a my carry-on. Much to my relief, the grumpy woman from earlier shows up and clears up the issue. I don't' know your name, grumpy woman at the Eugene airport, but thank you a million times.
Flight to Denver, uneventful. But all four of us decided we were very, very hungry. So the two youngers head off to McDonald's and me and Rainor went off to a Mexican place where we paid an astronomical price for these two huge tacos. At this point I mentioned in passing that I dyed my hair this morning. His response "You did? Oh, you did. I hadn't looked at you yet today."
The tacos were most excellent. (Though not worth the seven dollars each that we paid for them.) I only ate half of mine. Rainor ate all of his and then tried to bum an egg mcmuffin off of Daniel. Next thing I know I discover, to my horror, that I have somehow managed to pour taco sauce all down the front of my white corduroy skirt. Rainor laughed hysterically for the next five minutes.
Turns out that Daniel ate Christa's sandwich and as such she is left sandwichless. Drama ensued by the wronged party. And the situation was eventually rectified by the surrender of a hash brown and the purchase of a cinnamon roll. Or something.
On the next flight I actually got to sit next to my brother Rainor, which for some reason, almost never happens. I remarked that I smelled like a taco, to which he replied "Why do you think I'm following you around, burrito babe?" This was followed by a wink.
I love men.
Epilogue: We arrived in Iowa safely. The rest of the afternoon and evening has been filled with more unlikely, strange, and amusing happenings, including and epic chess battle in which I lost to my sister for the fourth night in a row. But I think that's all for now. I apologise for the length of my adventures. You may complain to my editor. I don't think it will do much good, though.
NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that I do not always respond to emails promptly and occasionally I do not respond at all. This is not intentional. I'm just an airhead. It is a fault I am doing my best to remedy.