As I sit in THE MOST ghetto terminal I've ever been in - for Boston, this is surprising. I am awaiting my flight, on AirTran Airlines. I can't remember the last time I've flown AirTran. It must've been a while.
Seriously, it makes Greyhound look appealing.
I am not a total priss, nor do I demand first class.
But, when I went to sit down at my gate - I had to WIPE DOWN the seat.
And I'm not even on the toilet.
As I was walking to the security, I had a man come up behind me (walking in the same direction). He was shouting (something inaudible) to his co-worker (who was some yards ahead of me). Because I'm nosey, I turn around to see that he's an employee of some type of sandwich shoppe (I spell it that way so as to fool myself into thinking this is a fancy place). He gives me the once over and says.
"Are you married yet?"
What's with the 'yet'?
That's where we're at? Even the creepy sandwich workers know of my spinsterhood? I just replied (in my best cranky-woman-scorned-voice), "YES!"
Whatever. Tell my hotty Airborne Ranger that. He's already at the destination, awaiting my arrival, where we'll attend a wedding, tomorrow. I haven't seen him since May, he's a great wedding date - and he's yummy on the eyes.
Maybe THAT'S what I should have said! "No, but I'm going to a wedding. Does that count?"
Toma's Favorite Song Today: "Steal My Kisses" by Ben Harper