Today's flight wasn't bad at all. At all. Besides having to high tail it to the very opposite end of the terminal in Dallas to make my connecting flight and the beyond giant security line in SLC that wrapped through every aisle that's roped off and trailed all the way down past the luggage carousel and ALMOST out the door, it really wasn't bad.
I've started to just expect traveling to be horrendous, so having incredibly low standards helps the overall experience not seem so bad. And since I went to school far from home, I've had plenty of travel time that has allowed be to become a seasoned traveler. Not that my travels have been that exciting, it's mostly limited to the Western states on my journey back to Idaho.
Even though today's flight wasn't bad, I've sure had my fair share of travel horror stories.
Like the time my sister and I were on our way to San Francisco with our cousin to visit her dad/our uncle and our flight got canceled and in order to make it up to us we got FOOD VOUCHERS? Oh here. Here's a ticket for $1o that will buy you a water bottle and a stale sandwich. You can imagine the fight my mom put up and we were eventually on a flight that night. That was Northwest, by the way.
Or the time we had a layover in San Francisco (I'm only now realizing a slight trend...) and we were starving and trying to find something to eat, which by the way, is slim pickings in that airport. We were walking and before I realized it I had walked into the danger zone and my family was still behind me in the safe zone. My family tried to warn me and once I realized I turned around practically in the same step but the dragon security lady made me go through SECURITY again. Who designed an airport that has the already limited eating options outside of security? Pfft.
Or the time I ran out of room in my suitcases when coming home from school so I stuffed my backpack to the seams, and shockingly, it was too big to fit in the overhead compartment so they told me I had to gate check it and apparently I didn't put it in the right place (even though I set it down where everyone who has ever traveled sets gate checked luggage--to the right where the door is where they are loading the luggage down on the plane) and the snooty stewardess got on the loud speaker and said "would the owner of a polka dot backpack PUH-LEASE report to the front of the plane? IMMEDIATELY!" and they asked me if it was mine and why I put it there. I put it there because you told me to, Sherlock.
Remember the days when you got to check TWO bags for free dollars AND they gave you a meal? Now you're lucky if you get to your seat and someone else hasn't already shoved their clearly too big of carry on bag into your rightful overhead space.
What have been your traveling adventures? Or perhaps misadventures?