Everyone's a Hot Mess at the Airport

Which is why I think I love the airport. I mean really thank you airport security for making us all strip down to basically nothing, remove half of the contents from our over stuffed purses and briefcases, liquids, computers and other miscellaneous electronics and then have us walk down through the metal detector in our purple socks with the hole in the left big toe praying that our necklace won’t set the detector off so that we have to spread our arms and legs, while in spandex, to be individually checked by the security guard. And that wasn’t even me people because what did I tell you? Everyone is a hot mess in the airport. Everyone has to adjust and fret to get their liquids out of their bag and take their shoes off really quickly so you don’t hold up the line and then put the shoes back on without a bench, hopping around on one effing foot while you tie the laces. Everyone is a hot mess at the airport, I suppose that bitch I always talk about – the elusive non-hot mess would wear flip flops so she can just slip them off and she probably didn’t overpack and have to put 20 pounds of electronics in her backpack. Fuck it I quit. I guess all I can say is there are a lot more hot messes at the airport than usual. And the girl with the purple socks was me.