Well, I sat down to write this post on Thursday night but quickly became distracted by all things presidential debate. And by that I mean talking back to the television, reading twitter, and texting Emily.
She's such a political junkie.
I won't tell you which side of the political spectrum I land on. But let's just say that when Matt and I were packing for vacation two weeks ago I mentioned we needed to put something on our gray suitcase to set it apart from all of the other gray suitcases. I was envisioning something along the lines of a cute bandanna tied to the handle or some colorful ribbons on the zippers.
Five minutes later Matt proudly said, "Mission accomplished." I walked into the bedroom to see the suitcase with a giant NRA sticker front and center.
Life is full of surprises.
We were going to the Dominican Republic, specifically Punta Cana, for our vacation. We booked the trip back in February and we looked online every few months since then to see how much a first class upgrade would cost. Unfortunately it always cost way too many dollars, but as we were waiting at the gate an hour before takeoff, Matt said, "Just for fun, I'm going to ask the agent how much an upgrade would cost." It turns out it's much cheaper if you wait until the last minute, so we upgraded to first class.
I pulled out the camera so I would be ready to document the whole fancy experience and that's when I made the unfortunate but well-timed realization that I'd only packed one part of the two part camera charger.
And then Matt traversed the airport to find an electronics stand where he found a universal charger that cost ten bucks on Amazon but at the airport cost "an arm an a leg."
Vacation is so relaxing.
But the money we spent to upgrade our tickets PLUS the money for the camera charger still didn't equal what a first class ticket cost three months ago, so in my mind, we technically saved money.
I'm all about a bargain.
But please enjoy the following photos of us in first class. They were definitely not free.
I hate the taking off portion of an airplane ride so I was very on edge as we taxied down the runway. Matt took the window seat and kept trying to make me feel better by telling me he took an aerospace class in college and some technical mumbo jumbo about airspeed above the wing and below the wing, but sitting in a metal tube with hundreds of other people launching into the atmosphere isn't my idea of a good time. I closed my eyes and kept telling myself that flying in an airplane was safer than driving down 476 south at rush hour, which I do every day.
Once we got to cruising altitude I had a blast.
And a Bloody Mary.
Our vacation was pretty much the following things on repeat:
And after a glorious eight days in Punta Cana, we landed back home in Philadelphia last Saturday night.
We got to baggage claim before our suitcases did and we weren't sure which direction the belt would rotate, so Matt went to one side and I went to the other so we would be ready for anything. I got to my position and the woman next to me leaned over and whispered, "Excuse me, but do you know what state Philadelphia is in?"
Listen. I actually looked around for a few seconds to see if I was on some sort of hidden camera prank show. I didn't see any camera crews so I said, "Yes, I do. It's in Pennsylvania."
"Oh thank you!" she said, "For the life of me, I just could not remember!"
She was from California.
When the man one the other side of me heard she was from California he said, "Wow, that's a long way from the Dominican Republic." And she said, "Oh yes, it sure is. But we were in Punta Cana."
I've never been more anxious to see an NRA emblazoned suitcase.
There's no place like home.