Hello friends!
I'm sitting in a very swanky business center and am VERY out of place. I'm a little tempted to pick up the phone next to me and scream "BUY!" "CAPITAL!" "SELL!" "TSX!", but I don't think they'd buy it considering the fact that I look like I'm 15 and am wearing octagon sunglasses.
Anyways- a successful day to report to all of my favourite disordered eaters! I'm slowly reducing my calorie counting, something I haven't done since I was 15. It's almost 5 years guys, a quarter of my life living this way. I am trying to focus more on health, Canadian food guide servings etc. etc. The freedom of today was the best part- I still had a general idea of the calorie content I was consuming, but it was mostly lead by how I felt. I was able to go for dinner with a friend and got to focus on our conversation, not about a number. I will be honest - I didn't get all the food guide serving stuff - but its hard as a travelling vegan who doesn't know where things are! Still, a success is a success.
What else.....Ahh, I had a creepy nightmarrish thing last night. My dad and his old girlfriend were in the main room (we got bumped up to a suite- heck yes!) giggling and well....I specifically remember covering my eyes in the dream. Then his girlfriend shouts "IS SHE AROUND?" (she being me). My dad shouted at her to get into the other room so I wouldn't find out. This is disturbing in so many ways, from parent sex (BLECH!) to the fact that my dad was hiding her from me. What struck me most is how stupid my dream father and his girlfriend were. Shouting really loud to be secretive, really?
Two words people- "daddy issues"
What else can I tell you....OH! Would you like to hear how I missed my scheduled flight here? I bet you do! and you really don't have a choice if you want to keep on reading!
So first off, I HATE being late. Maybe it's cause my mum made a huge deal about how being late meant you were disrespectful to the person waiting. Maybe it's cause when I lived on the ship (www.classafloat.com if you don't understand what I'm talking about) being late meant an automatic "job jar", which usually meant cleaning the public head (toilet) that has problems flushing poop properly...
Or I'm just irrationally paranoid. Irrationality is always a good explanation.
So I've already checked in online, gave Phoebe enough food to feed a lion, had my bags packed, and even managed to get a good jetsetting outfit. It was an hour and 15 minutes before my flight left when I called the cab. They told me it would be there in 5-15 minutes.
25 minutes later
I'm getting panicky, so I call the taxi company back. I tell them the cab is late and I have to get to the airport. They call the driver, and sure enough a minute later he zooms around the corner. I'll give the guy credit though, he was a talented speeder and got me there on time.
I took a breath and thought to myself "I've got enough time! I can make it!"
Then I saw the line to security- FORK! It's Monday night people! Why are you here?
Eventually, I get to security. However, I get sent to the line with wheelchair access, and of course someone in a wheelchair was in front of me. Now, I know this sounds assholey, and please know that I love my wheelchair using friends....but it is a very slow process. I try to calm myself, until I heard the intercom say "ALEXANDRA ROWAN, PLEASE GET TO GATE 18 NOW". I looked up and shouted "I'M TRYING!". The security personel stared at me. "That was my name" I say in a voice much calmer than I felt. "Don't worry" said one of them, you're almost there.
Back to the people in front of me. One was in a wheel chair and the other could only inch along slowly. I try to be patient and not panic. When one of them went through "BEEP!" went the metal detector. They were both asked to go back though . "BEEP!". The mini metal detector that looks like a dustbuster scanned them from head to toe. Why do you have so much metal elderly couple? I could only conclude that they were:
A) Robots
B) Enjoying the thrill of petty rebellion
C) Sent by some deity who wanted me to have a nervous breakdown
D) all of the above
So I get through. The announcement goes again "ALEXANDRA ROWAN! GET TO GATE 18 NOW IF YOU WANT TO GO TO TORONTO! I thought I was done, but then noticed my purse was being searched. I think to myself "really? what on earth could I be carrying that they object to?". They pull out my bike repair multi tool that I forgot to take out. I try to explain, say it was an accident etc. They tell me it's considered a weapon and isn't allowed. I mumbled "just take it and confiscate it.....I probably missed my flight anyways.
Now that I reflect upon that incident I had to consider - how would I hijack a plane with a bike repair multi tool?".
Considering the sharpest part of it is a mini flathead screwdriver, stabbing someone seemed unlikely. So I thought maybe, it would work in this sequence:
1) I go from behind someone and jump on their back
2) Wrap my legs around their arms, making them immobile
3) Secure the victim in a headlock
4) Take my bike tool, shove it up their nose, hitting their brain
Then I realized you could do the same with a pencil, which is to my knowledge, is allowed.
However, it my not be when government spies read this post.
Sorry guys, it's finger paint (in jars no larger than 100 mls) from now on.
Anyways, back to me and the airport mess. I run to my gate, go up and asked "did I miss it?"
I missed it
I promptly burst into tears. The porter representatives have to do impromtu crisis counselling "It's ok - it happens, don't worry, we have another flight in an hour". I thank them and manage somehow (in between sobs) to request a window seat.
And that was that. I went into a magazine store to hide from the concerned looking porter representaties, I text my dad to tell him what happened, then I call my mum to tell her the story, which she found hilarious and started referring to me as "the biketool terrorist".
2 hours later, I'm in Toronto safe and sound.
So the moral of this story is....never leave your bike multi tool in your purse when heading to the airport? Never trust the elderly to get through security quickly? Have trained psychologists instead of 15 minute manicure stands in airports?
You decide.
Peace, Love and Veggies,
Alex
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