Up, Up & Away

Being a teenager is all about living it up in the summer months. That includes travelling whenever possible. Whether it be epic road trips with stories that you'd have to be there to believe, cruises over the open sea, or train rides through the flowing countryside, it's just great to be away from home. Let me tell you, literally anywhere else is better than your hometown, that's for sure. Any escape from the norm is most deff warranted, but it seems everytime I enter an airport, there are just more antics to be had. Be prepared for more airline shenanigans, catch up on the other hilarious travel posts (Jet Set - Airborne). It's a bird, it's a plane, no it's not Superman, it's your favorite teenager blogger. We're about to go up, up, and away.

Travelling is always expensive and if you're like me, spending your own money is a problem. Why yes, I may have a debit card, filled with graduation mullah, but I've become stingy with it. So of course when I get to the airport with my sister, after failing to check-in online (eff you United, website wouldn't load) I was forced to pay my baggage fees at the airport. The lady was so quick to swipe my card, it wasn't even funny. Shooing us along, she didn't even notice we had a suitcase each. Miss impatient rolled her eyes, and sent us to be helped by another clerk who charged my $35 for a second bag. I'm thinking WTE, both bags are not mine, it's one each. But whatever, I don't like to complain and airports get me nervous, I always feel like I'm in a hurry, even if I got their 2 hours early for a domestic flight. So we're at Dulles International Airport, just outside of DC, and of course we have to go through security. I don't know what it is about teenagers, but whenever we see one another, it's like it's necessary to acknowledge our adolescent existence. Generic brand looking teens (basketball totting neanderthals, snapbacks, gym shorts, long socks, Nike swoop shirt, and Jordan's) nodded at me, and I the same in my classy airport maneuvering outfit. Kids these days literally look the same, just because you all are friends, doesn't mean you have to wear the same get-up, just in different colors; it's kind of weird. So we get through security after taking off my belt, watch, and shoes. The security chick was actually nice, and smiling, a welcome change from the Kamikaze looking psychos you who usually screen your stuff. Chill, I'm just trying to go up, up, and away.



After security, it was moving escalator sidewalks and then taking the stairs instead of the escalator. I'm a teenager and I'm not using a walker yet, so a few flights of stairs are no biggie. This is one of those gigantic airports where taking a futuristic tram is highly necessary. So we get on the next one and we stand grabbing the pole. Y'all know I was about to fall over. The thing tells you to hold on, but it literally flies like we were about to head on over to Narnia. On to our terminal and in our car is this ultimate bro mountain climbing looking hot mess of a dude. I'm talking full climbing backpack, plaid shorts, and loafers - he was literally hilarious, but looked like he was confused. We burned rubber past hordes of staring people. It's like travelers can't handle some independent teenagers running train on an airport terminal. First it was a stop at Starbucks, Sweet Iced Passion Tea for this guy, and a Java-Chip Frappuccino for sister-girl, cinnamon scone and an overpriced fruit cup. The girl at the counter had an accent but was super cool, however, they like didn't make the second drink until we asked again. By that time, funny mountain man had stumbled on over here to get himself some black coffee, that dude straight chugged it. Might have been so awesome. The sister, only ate like 25 cents worth of that fruit cup, left the melon (cantaloupe & honey dew) which were more than ripe to pitch. So it was off to California Tortilla to get some beef tacos and some chicken nachos. That food was spicy, just the way I like it. However, the people around us in the waiting area were shooting dirty looks like a first person shooter. If you're like old, like in your mid-forties, you need to chillax with the stares, it's rude and weird for you to just watch people. We make fun of y'all, but it doesn't go the other way around. We finally boarded the plane, and I stowed my container of spice in my carry-on. Please tell me why the little tunnel thingy opened out into open air, as in blazing hot sun, for us to walk on the tarmac and board the plane, celebrity style. Sitting in our seats, we saw cliff hiker dude getting on his aircraft and waved, man crush for life. We were ready to go up, up and away.



The flights themselves are always an experience. The flight attendant had this pimple looking thing on his head that I just couldn't stop staring at everytime he walked past. Then there were the people sitting around us. The old ass windbags in front of us of course leaned their chair back. Never have I ever leaned my chair back, it's freaking inconsiderate, and we all barely have leg room, so chill and sit erect like the rest of us. Leaning back like they gangsta or something with their snow white hair, okay geezer, you're like 50 not retired, so sit yourself up and stop harshing my mellow. Then there was the guy sitting next to us, his wife and kids in the back doing whatever, and him skimming through his legal brief. Mister big shot, first of all, I could understand his legal vernacular easily, (thank you USA Network's "Suits" - you've taught me well, in coordination with those other serial dramas), secondly he took out like literally 4 pieces of super strong wintermint gum and chewed them at the same time. The smell was overpowering, and then he had a diet Coke (you're a little chubby buddy, fake sugar isn't going to help) and I'm telling you, that dude tapped every, and I mean everything, last drop out of that can; he was the last one to throw away his can at the end of the flight, ridiculous. And of course, the lady behind us ordered a beer. Really, it's like an hour and a half flight, cool your alcoholic self down. The lady may or may not have belched beer breath everywhere. Foul as eff. We landed, and pounded the heck out of that pavement to retrieve our luggage and head on home. Don't get me started on the damn traffic, it left me bitter and with mud-butt (no judgement allowed). Up, up, and away.



Being a teenager is all about causing a ruckus whenever possible. I don't understand why teens always look pissed. Life's rough, we all understand that, but there's funny stuff literally everywhere. Laugh all the time and your life will be so much better, pinky-promise.



My blog post question for the day is ... best airport food? Either the overpriced candy, or else Subarro (oily as hell pizza) - that ish hits the spot.

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