I have traveled a lot. (Check out my awesome European map for validation.) And one of my personal pet peeves about traveling is paying to check a bag. I just think it should be free. Always. No matter what.
Yes, I can fit my life into one tiny carry-on bag, and I did just that when I hoped around Italy and London...but I don't like it. I enjoy packing two large, exactly 50.0 lbs suitcases and then hating my life whenever I get to my final destination. Do I really need multiple pairs of shoes and every pair of underwear that I own? No. But...I might. And that is a possibility to which I want to err on the side of caution.
Coming back to my parent's for Christmas, I flew Southwest. It was glorious. First off, I got a direct flight. Second, I got two checked bags for free. Third, the flight attendants were amazing. Fourth, they gave me as many pretzel and Cheez-its as I wanted. All the Cheez-its, I say. If Southwest had international flights, I would sign up for their credit card in a second. Seriously, it was the most amazing trip I have flown in America...and I am ridiculously snooty and difficult to please.
Anyway, I am now at home, swaddled in zebra comforters and listening to the gentle brays of a donkey outside. Nothing like living the good life in West Virginia.
I'm actually really excited to be home. It's nice that I have a solid two weeks at home, and that there isn't this crazy rush that happened with Thanksgiving.
I think another thing that makes is happy is that I have people in Denver that will drive me to the airport. Picking someone up and dropping someone off at the airport is a huge sign of friendship to me. (Because I hate driving to the airport, and assume others do too.)
To repay my airport-driving friend, I did the only logical thing that I could think of: I gave her all the shit in my kitchen that I no longer wanted! #bestfriendever
Sure, a lot of it was going to expire in a day, but there was also some unhealthy shit that I wanted to get rid of too. I know, I know...my generosity is overwhelming.
I'm excited for this vacation home, seeing family and friends, and eating way too much. Life is good.
Yes, I can fit my life into one tiny carry-on bag, and I did just that when I hoped around Italy and London...but I don't like it. I enjoy packing two large, exactly 50.0 lbs suitcases and then hating my life whenever I get to my final destination. Do I really need multiple pairs of shoes and every pair of underwear that I own? No. But...I might. And that is a possibility to which I want to err on the side of caution.
Coming back to my parent's for Christmas, I flew Southwest. It was glorious. First off, I got a direct flight. Second, I got two checked bags for free. Third, the flight attendants were amazing. Fourth, they gave me as many pretzel and Cheez-its as I wanted. All the Cheez-its, I say. If Southwest had international flights, I would sign up for their credit card in a second. Seriously, it was the most amazing trip I have flown in America...and I am ridiculously snooty and difficult to please.
Anyway, I am now at home, swaddled in zebra comforters and listening to the gentle brays of a donkey outside. Nothing like living the good life in West Virginia.
I'm actually really excited to be home. It's nice that I have a solid two weeks at home, and that there isn't this crazy rush that happened with Thanksgiving.I think another thing that makes is happy is that I have people in Denver that will drive me to the airport. Picking someone up and dropping someone off at the airport is a huge sign of friendship to me. (Because I hate driving to the airport, and assume others do too.)
To repay my airport-driving friend, I did the only logical thing that I could think of: I gave her all the shit in my kitchen that I no longer wanted! #bestfriendever
Sure, a lot of it was going to expire in a day, but there was also some unhealthy shit that I wanted to get rid of too. I know, I know...my generosity is overwhelming.
I'm excited for this vacation home, seeing family and friends, and eating way too much. Life is good.
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