So, I'll be winging my way south this evening.
Would it be surprising to you to know I am not a fan of flying? I've flown many times. Hell, I've flown alone many times. I know what to do, I know it's statistically safe, and this is a very short flight.
I still get nervous. It's even more nerve wracking these days, with the extra serving of paranoia they give you instead of peanuts. I'm not worried about terrorists. I'm worried about what the airport security staff will decide I am using to take over the airplane. I'm not checking any luggage, so I have to scrutinize everything that goes into my purse and carry on.
And that's crazy-making. I've checked every bottle of liquid and gel stuff I'm carrying. All are clearly marked as being 2oz or less (because a mostly empty 2.5 oz bottle isn't allowed). The sharpest thing I'm taking is a nail clipper with a tiny file that's so freaking frail it might snap off if sneezed on. And my little survival kit of mini-multi-tool and Swiss army knife, that could be really helpful if, heaven forbid, the plane did go down? Got to leave it at home.
In any case, I'll be back -- with The Husband in tow -- tomorrow. And in the mean time, I've been promised a tour of Hidden City. That's worth the airplane ride!