Thank God for Captain Morgan, or I wouldn’t be able to handle the current ‘predicament’ that I’ve found myself in.
Its just been one ridiculous day all together.
The morning was ridiculously good…Paul and I woke up to a rainy Mainz, but found some umbrellas and we had some of the best Wurst in Germany! Went back to his apartment and watched a “A good year” a nice movie about a Brit who moves to France, falls in love with this hott girl and finds out that work isn’t everything in life. Great movie. Loved it.
It ended at the right moment, as I needed to head off to the airport and end my time here in Europe.
Paul decided to accompany me to the airport, which was great to one, spend more time with him, but also he helped me with my super heavy suitcase.
And then it became ridiculously bad….
Get to the airport…almost 2 hours before departure.
Stand in line for check-in…and I find out that my suitcase weighs 5kg, or 10 pounds too heavy!!
I open up the suitcase, Paul tells me, just put as many clothes on as you can…I’m wearing a summer dress, but put on jeans…and heels…and a couple of T-shirts…and a hooodie…and totally stuff my bra and T-shirt with as much as I can. Pretty sure I went from size A to DD in 5 minutes. I even un-zipped my pants and tried to stuff books in my underwear.
I’ve never been as fat as that before in my life.
It is finally my turn. I pass with the weight limits…no problem.
The problem…and ultimate reason why the fuck I’m not in Costa Rica right now is because I was unable to present physical proof of a flight that I would be eventually leaving Costa Rica.
I told the woman…look I bought my ticket already I leave July 5th, from San Jose and get into Chicago around 9pm …she said. Nope,…I have to know the exact details.
Paul and I RAAAN to the internet stand to find my flight information…we ran back to the woman, and she Nope…I need something physically in my hands,..a printed itinerary.
I was wearing my fat suit in heels, so Paul was my hero and ran as fast as he could to try to find a printer. I stood waiting…I wanted to throw up I felt so sick.
He came back…and there was no printer, anywhere.
Flight was impossible.
She had my passport number, my credit card number, the airline company name, the ticket purchase number… it wasn’t good enough. She said…well you can run and buy another ticket then. WHAT?!?! The ticket I have is 800 something dollars?!! I don’t even understand that…at all.
And we didn’t even show up late!
I just walked away and cried.
Hard and long.
I sobbed. I was so sad.
And then I was angry. Extremely angry.
Every word was four letters.
I went outside with Paul, took a drag of his cigarette, temporarily zoned out for a few minutes than went in the corner and screamed ‘F*** You!’ as loud as I could.
But what can be done tonight?
Only Paul, Paul’s sister, sister’s boyfriend, good friend, and Captain Morgan can make the night better. And it has gotten better…but then I have to wake up tomorrow and figure out what the hell is going to happen.
I have no idea…