Oh, but um? Let's try to do this in order with my famously artistic photos, shall we? OOH! And since we're at it, let's make this a totally random numbered list. Anyone wanna guess how many numbers will be in this list? (Me, neither.)
1. I get on the plane and HOLY HELL.
That picture there? It's of the SLACK in my seatbelt. Did you know that the last time I flew I basically had like, NO slack? It wasn't quite "close" -- I mean, I could always get the belt buckled, but I didn't exactly have a lot of extra room to play around.
It was a little scary, because I would always think back to a trip to Florida I once took with my best friend when we were little. A woman shared a seat in our row with us, and she couldn't fit in the standard belt; she had to be given an extension. She was horrified, we were horrified. It was awful, and uncomfortable, and she seemed miserable throughout the trip.
I never want to be that woman. Or Kevin Smith.
So, anyway, this absolutely astounded me. I had no idea I'd lost so many inches. That's all Medifast.
2. I get a little drunk on the plane.
FIRST of all, I am a crappy flyer. Flier? Flyer. Whatever. I don't like to do it. For the longest time, I thought that drinking would make my plane fears worse, and so I avoided any medication at all.
Then on a business trip a few years ago, my end-of-day flight was delayed for a few HOURS, and I was alone in the airport, and I decided to have some wine.
That was the best flight EVER.
So now I drink unashamedly on the plane and everyone is happier for it. Especially after United promises the three of us an upgrade and then, instead of upgrading us, cancels our seats entirely. (LET US NOT EVEN HAVE THIS CONVERSATION.)
All you need to know is that I managed, finally, to get my ass to the Buena Vista at SFO and down a couple of these puppies:
So that once Eve, Ish and I got on the plane with the other Clever Girls, I was all WHATEVER FIRST CLASS? WHO NEEDS YOU? Plus, I had the cutest traveling companion in the world.
So sure. About halfway through the flight, I had to stop sending work emails (plane + wifi = AWESOME) because I was feeling too silly. But I did reply to an email to Brooke (of Dan and Brooke) saying that yes, we were still planning to meet them. It read something (exactly) like this:
Hi. I'm not the best flyer/flier? (how the fuck do you spell that? I do not mean to suggest I'm a piece of paper stapled to a telephone pole...) in the world and so I may have had a few gin and sodas and it's what? 12:45 p.m. and I'm on an airplane. With a baby. Apologies.
Of course we're still on! I BLOGGED that I'd be meeting you. (Also? At least two people wrote me and said that of all the impressive things I've done in my life, meeting you and Dan is the MOST impressive. I just want you to understand that means you beat out my "getting on with my life" after my mother AND THEN father died of cancer. CONGRATULATIONS.)
(Also-also? I really do think that's hilarious.)
(Most people have shitty senses of humor.)
(I should not reply to emails on planes maybe ever.)
We'll see you tomorrow! And I won't bring up cancer!
3. Much other stuff happens once we arrive in New York and go to a great dinner and then have an important work meeting, but at the end of the day, I meet Ish and Brooke and Dan for drinks.
We have a great time. I get mad that my husband made very special dinner reservations for us for our five-year anniversary because, even though I love him and New York and Mario Batali, Dan and Brooke are every bit as much fun in person as you'd think.
Even if my iPhone pictures suck.
We try to convince them to move to Napa. I'm not sure it worked.
And in the end, dinner at Del Posto was great. Yes, five years since Ish and I met. CRAZY.
4. Thursday happens, along with ninety billion pre-BlogHer parties, including 898 billion that I'm not invited to because even though everyone sort-of knows me, I'm on precisely zero "lists."
But I did get to go to Social Luxe Lounge! Not because I'm famous or special or RSVP'd in time, but because one of our clients was a sponsor. So I was there, yes. But I was working. JUST LIKE OLD TIMES!
famous bloggers (and their handsome, freshly tattooed boyfriends) in fancier dresses and spikier heels than I could pull off.
When I did get a chance to get a cocktail and wander for a few minutes, I took the opportunity to introduce myself to Sundry, who had absolutely no idea who I was. Awesome. Then I tried to be funny when chatting with Ree, relating our only shared anecdote (about the FIRST time I met her, at BlogHer '07), except it came out a thousand percent wrong and horribly.
I won't be waiting for her call.
5. The actual conference starts and I kick it off with a makeover, thanks to P&G!
So, okay. Forgetting that it's New York AND that it's not even 10 in the morning, I tell the makeup artist to GO CRAZY and do WHATEVER she wants!
This starts off just fine.
...I officially look like a Preppy Hooker. Perfect!
Next up? Queen of Spain crotch shots! Because we are classy Preppy Hookers.