Driver is going all safely over hazardous pebbles and minute bumps and it's driving me loko. Totally my fault though right?? Somehow we get to JFK at 8:30. Thank Obama there's no line for Cathay Pacific. Security is a different story. Big line and I'm sweatin' it. I take comfort in the fact the line is getting longer for newcomers.
As if all of this isn't boring enough I board at 8:45 and a bomb of relief blows my head off.
I watch Red 2 (dope), Despicable Me 2 (haven't seen first one, but I'm all like fuck it), Turbo (also dope), some movie about a worthless tween and Steve Carell is his Mom's verbally abusive BF, New Year's Eve (Love Actually>), and an episode of Community. Guy next to me (breathe?) smells bad for all of this.
Sixteen hours later I land in Hong Kong. At JFK we spent a month on the runway with super soakers defrosting shit and land an hour late so of course I have to freak out again. I cut some lines and people don't like that so I finger them. I mean I give them the finger. I get to my gate and my next flight is delayed an hour too. The struggle wasn't even real.
I get some noodles and beer in the meantime. After both those things are inside of me I realize this is a huge mistake because I'm hungover still and the little teaspoons of water they give you on the plane have little effect on my salted peanut brain. Wait another month in line at the Starbucks by my gate and I'm the last one to board.
Hong Kong to Thailand is only two hours and twenty five minutes so no movies and hella Community. I have the bulkhead seat so the tray thing is all weird and somehow I spill a little beer on myself and dude next to me freaks out and gets a new blanket and moves a seat over. I finger him too.
I'm so frigging tired but I try my hardest to stay up since it's only 8pm and loiter in the hangout area. After refreshing Instagram 100+ times I succumb to the cousin of death on the top bunk in my coed sleeps ten room.
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