It’s bad, really bad when you write a blog post by hand in your personal journal since no computer access exists 30,000 feet above ground. However, I’ve managed to accomplish this task with relatively little harm to my ego. Here’s what I wrote:
Well, I’m on my way to San Francisco to visit my aunt and the family for part of my last Spring Break ever. For those of you who know me, you’re aware that I’m terrified of flying…so bear with me while I waste some air time and indulge in my utter nerdiness by writing this blog post.
First things first:
1) I HIGHLY suggest flying with jetBlue. My flight began with an episode of That 70’s Show followed by movie Juno on my personal TV screen. People: I have just experienced the 21st century and…It. Is. Awesome! I have copious amounts of leg room and even decided to get one of those baby bottles of wine to encourage my self-important nature.
2) On the way to the airport today I had a cab driver offer me two very interesting rules of thumb he says he swears by:
a) Never go to the doctor’s office for a physical. This man is sixty-eight years old and apparently healthy as a horse. Mazel Tov.
b) Never wear a condom. (FYI: I did express to him that this was an over share…c’mon folks, I do have some morals!) He said that this rule keeps him faithful to his girlfriend. I don’t care to go on.—Yeesh.
There is no level of ‘uncomfortable’ that shies away from me. These types of situations often find their way into my daily routine, and I’m just going to start recording them. For instance, I’m not really sure why some cab drivers feel the need to push the envelope that extra inch and completely cross my self-imposed comfort line. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just talk too much–you know, too nice too quickly? On my way home from work last week, the driver asked me for my number to go on a date. Great. It’s uncomfortable moments such as this one which happen on a regular basis, that make me want to crawl under a large rock and hide forever.
A similar type of uncomfortable occurred a couple weeks ago at my internship. I was going on one of my many important errands at the magazine: a coffee run. I had gone out with one of the new interns who had decided to tell me that she no longer drinks coffee due to her IBS. I did not ask her if caffeine made her irritable. I didn’t even ask the girl if she liked coffee! My only regret is that I didn’t have a good friend of mine around at this moment to share in this heightened level of ‘uncomfortable’ with me. Instead, I have resorted to sharing this intern’s digestive ailments with cyber space. I’m sorry…