One of the best perks about being married to a sports fan is the fact that we get to take fun, little one-off trips all the time. And, since we only spend the weekends together because of his work schedule, we always try to make the most of these little excursions.

So, this weekend, it’s off to the Sweet Sixteen, in Anaheim. It means taking my first trip around LA and visiting my marvelously quirky and just plain marvelous Cali-dwelling sister Abby.

This is what has happened so far today:

– Attention to detail is important. For example, if your ticket says Flight 44 to Los Angeles, don’t go stand in the line for Flight 3842 to Ontario. This can only end badly.

– I feel extraordinarily grown up because – gasp – I drove MYSELF to the airport and parked my car there. I’m not sure I’ve done this before unless it’s been just a day trip. Because, you know, when you have enough money to pay for a trip, it only makes sense that you would act like an impoverished beggar when it comes to transportation. I think the very wise Barney Stinson once said, “call a cab, rent a room, hire some movers and repeat after me, ‘friends don’t make friends come to their crappy plays’.” when it comes to things you should stop asking your friends to do for you. And I figured that as much as Melissa loves me (just being honest, she probably would have been the one who would have allowed herself to be talked into driving me), I didn’t want to put her through running all over the city at all hours (aka making my life way more convenient by making her life way less convenient). I’ll save that kind of chauffeuring duties for Abby.

– I walked through security with a ziploc containing a squashy banana peel and half a bell pepper (my snacks from today). One would think this would set off some red flags. After all, they have basically strip-searched my husband for wearing a knee brace and unpacked every bit of my luggage to inspect my hot rollers. But no, apparently just carrying around rotty food and being a disgusting human is no crime.

– Airport food is like war rations. If something is even moderately consumable, the only way to afford it is to auction off your firstborn or whip out an IV and start selling plasma right in front of the Blimpie’s. And, by the way, what is Blimpie’s? The only consumable thing I saw there was salad or a subway knockoff type sandwich. Upon closer inspection, the “salad” consisted of ham, pepperoni, prosciutto, five other types of processed meats and olives. The olives were obviously there for their nutritious vegetable content. Oh, perhaps there was a garnish of parsley
or something else green also in the mix. So anyway, the choice is pay $40 for a tomato and cheese wrap or pay $16.50 for a bag of M&Ms. The choice is kind of a no-brainer, I think. And this is what’s wrong with America. (I actually ended up getting some kind of protein bar, which only cost me giving my husband’s phone number to the checker… Hope you enjoy the dinner date with Fernan, love).

– Taking the late-night flight is the best thing ever. You get on the plane and no one else is there. It’s a direct flight. You get a seat all to yourself. You can use your drink coupon (thanks, Southwest!) and go to sleep and wake up at your destination. Sooo much better than waking up at 4 a.m. to fly
out and being price-gouged to death by airport Starbucks (as opposed to just being price-gouged into a coma by regular non-airport Starbucks.

– Natalie’s Candy Jar. This place is equal parts amazing and torturous
Amazing because it has the best name EVER. Torturous because that candy is practically made of gold dust and all I want to do is go fill up a bag with green and yellow things. Repeat after me: Restraint is a virtue.

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Also, one of the Southwest workers had on a Baylor Bears lanyard, so I am thinking that’s a good sign. Sic everyone and California here I come!

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