I went to the airport yesterday. I realized afterward that I would hang out in airports tons and tons more, because they can be pretty interesting places to be, if only they didn't charge for parking.

But yesterday's mission had very little to do with hangin' outz. My dad left for his flight to Switzerland (for work) and an hour later, my aunt and I realized that the pills he started taking recently were still on our coffee table. After counting the pills in the bottles, she said, "He must have forgotten them," and after both attempting to page him at the airport and engaging in a silly production of trying to communicate with my brothers and mother (my family communicates like FIENDS), my aunt and I sped off.

We ran around and found his airline; they gave me a boarding area pass and I waited in line (or really, a long series of looping line segments) to go through security. Waited, waited, went through, ran a lot, took a shuttle, ran a lot, didn't see my dad anywhere, ran to the nearest smokers' lounge (aka ran a lot), didn't see my dad in the smokers' lounge, ran back to his gate, waited as sweat engulfed my armpits.

Finally they announced that the flight to Zurich was boarding, and after about three minutes my dad appeared out of nowhere and into the line. AND. He had already packed four days' doses in an envelope in his jacket. OKAY, DAD, way to provide for a really sitcomesque ending! If I hadn't been so sweaty and endorphin-filled I might have been annoyed, but it was good to see him right before he left. And it was pretty fun to cut in front of slow-moving old people when running past all the gates.

The worst part is that security didn't go as smoothly as it could have. I didn't have to take off my shoes because I was wearing sandals (beeyotch). While waiting in line I made sure to take my stapler, staples, and mini-screwdriver out of my purse and give the stuff to my aunt, BUT I didn't realize that my pair of scissors was lodged within my agenda--until the dude at the checkpoint gingerly pulled them out with his gloved finger and thumb. OH ME OH MY, HOW EMBARRASSING FOR ME. I was in a hurry so I told the guy he could confiscate it if that would take care of it quickly, but now I feel a twinge of regret: I'm no criminal, the Man shouldn't get to acquire my scissors.

Also, the security dude at the front asked the Asian guy in front of me in line if we were together; the guy said no, but then added "I WISH" gahargaharhar. Then when I asked if I could simply toss my purse into one of the metal object tubs, the security dude said, "You're perrrrfect." Those certainly weren't the worst / most interesting mild-passes I've received, but all this AND confiscated scissors ... 2 much 2 handle!