A week ago Monday I got a call from a friend who lives in Florida. She asked “uh what are you doing this weekend? Want to fly to Florida?”
She decided to come back here, to Indiana to pursue a job opportunity and wanted me to fly down Thursday evening and help her drive back Friday. If you know me, you know that agreeing to get on a plane means I must really love this person. I am not a good flier. The chest pains and heart palpitations always interfere with a good flight.
My dad and brother dropped me off at the airport and were good sports when I asked them to hang around until I got through security. I was afraid I didn’t have my makeup bagged correctly and there was NO way I was tossing urban decay makeup.
Me and my make up made it through security and I sat waiting on my flight. And waiting. And waiting. We were slightly delayed. And I was slightly nervous. But I ended up making it without incident.
Tiff, Olli and me heading out to start the drive back. We left about 9pm and planned on driving through the night. I was so proud of myself–I drove from 9 until about 5 the next morning. Tiff wasn’t as proud. She said the last hour or so of my driving was a little concerning.