I think I just put my bra size on the internet.

An excerpt from the email I sent to my sister yesterday regarding my flight home. Because, you know, airports hate me.

C,

The flight home yesterday was easy, though I did have something of an event at the airport. You know how I had my purse and my computer bag? Well, despite the "rule" of only being allowed two carry-ons, I've never had trouble bringing those two bags AND my roller bag onto the plane since both bags fit under the seat and my roller goes overhead. WELL, I lined up to board and the woman (who had battled her eye liner and lost given the sheer thickness of the kohl she had going on around her peepers) took my pass and said, tersely, "Nope, you have three bags. One has to go." I was astounded and told her that both bags fit under the seat and she goes, "Doesn't matter. That's the rule that you only get two. Go over there and fix it or check a bag and pay for it. NEXT!" And she truly hollered the "NEXT" with some gusto, clearly being done with me and wanting to just get the show on the road. Perhaps she was anxious to get home and wash her face. I don't know. I was annoyed at the prospect of a convenience fee - WHICH I WAS NOT GOING TO PAY. And yes, I'm aware that I just yelled that last sentence. But SHEESH.

So I marched over to the side and decided that I could smash my purse into my roller bag. Which I did, but only with the assistance of an airline worker who had to SIT on the bag to get it closed, and only after one of my bras decided to fall out and INTO THE PATH OF THE PEOPLE WHO WERE BOARDING. So now everyone in line knows that I wear a 34B. Did I mention that the plane was full of business men one of whom snorted as I said, "Um, you're sort of on my bra" while plucking at the pant leg of the man in front of him? It was neat.

So bag problem aside, I joined the line AGAIN in a serious sweat and all shades of red. My deodorant was really pushed to its limits. The woman looked at me and said, "Don't do that again," with a tone implying that I had REALLY sinned by trying to bring on more than the allotted luggage. You would have thought I had just drowned some kittens given her tone. Point taken.

Finally on the plane, I found an aisle seat and commenced with trying to shove my roller bag overhead. Which, with the addition of my purse, was not going to happen. And I pushed REAAAAALLLLY hard, even standing on my seat and using my shoulder. Nope. I motioned to a stewardess and said, "Look, I think I'm going to have to check this bag." She was thrilled, because it meant I was also going to have to PAY. She trotted off to get a tag for my bag, and I thought, "WAIT. I can just take my purse out and shove it under the seat along with my computer bag LIKE I AWAYS DO and it will be fine." Which I did! But first, my bra had to make an appearance AGAIN, which was fun for the guy who picked it up and handed it back to me with a chipper, "I think you dropped this!" I died a thousand deaths, let ME tell YOU, but I didn't have to pay to stow my bag, so ha-HA! Who needs dignity? NOT ME!

The rest of the flight was a non-event, though really nothing can top a stranger handing you back your BRA. And it wasn't even one of my cute ones. It was of the nude-colored, utilitarian variety. I can't decide if that's better or not, but now I feel all squirmy, like if he ever sees me again, he'll think, "Oh GOD, that's the woman who wears REALLY BORING UNDERWEAR. Quick! RUN! She must HATE SEX!" And I'll have to be all, "NO I DON'T! CHECK THIS BAD BOY OUT!" and then flash him just to prove that I have proper, lacy underthings. Which, I suppose, could get me arrested. But at least my reputation would be intact. As a ho. Sigh. I can't win with this one.

The End.

xo
J.