Day "one"...

I wrote this yesterday in an airport bar.

It's 3:30pm. I'm not quite sure where I am as I step off the plane. It's been a long day so far, and all I really remember from the morning is that I got on a flight that was headed in the basic direction of my final destination. Then I remember: Dallas. Right.

First? Bathroom. Second? Booze. The only way the second leg of this pieced together flight will be bearable is with beer. I walk up to the host and ask if they serve booze and where the quickest I can get some is. He says, "just go up to the bar, sweetie" and later tells me he thought I'd order a double of anything.

So I'm in Dallas drinking a Texas sized beer. Seriously, this thing is huge. When the bartender asked "regular or big?" I assumed he meant the difference between a glass and a pint. Hell, no! I'm in Texas now so I better drink like it. It's dark, delicious, and everything that's happened finally starts to sink in. I have an actual seat for my flight to Boston so I'm not worried about being on stand-by anymore. I go through the morning in my head.

1. Exhausted.

2. 100s of people in PDX saw me cry. Awesome.

3. First missed flight ever.

4. I have no idea where the hell my bag is.

5. While I was in PDX waiting for my flight to Boston, Travis Outlaw was paged over the loud speaker. I had to stop myself from making a break for it.

At least I'll be in Boston tonight. A few hours behind schedule, but a gigantic dark beer will help me not worry about that. Plus, one of the waitresses is wearing a bolo tie and somehow that makes everything okay.