Thursday. 9:15am.

I'm sitting on a plane, on my way to Houston, and I'm trying to figure out where and why this day went so horribly wrong. I mean, yesterday was such a *good* day... Now all of a sudden 1) I have a meeting with a surgeon in five hours but unfortunately nothing to show him, 2) I have no credit card with which to check into a hotel or pay for dinner, and 3) now I have no bank card with which to get any cash. In addition, I'm sitting in a suit with no underwear on, I can't remember if I'm wearing deoderant, and my hair and makeup look like a six-year-old's idea of playing dressup.

This morning I had a 7:55 flight out of Newark, and since it takes about 45 minutes to get to the airport (with no traffic), a car was scheduled to pick me up at 5:45, to allow for the typical New York traffic and any extra security at the airport. Now, this was no problem because I am used to getting up early, and I travel so often that I can pack fairly quickly. So I set my alarm for 4:45, which would give me PLENTY of time to shower, pack, prepare for my meeting, and feed the kitties. Oh yeah, let me tell ya... I was practically swimming in all the extra time I had this morning. Whooo!

You know the opening scene in The Others, with a close-up of Nicole Kidman lying in bed, screaming her bloody head off? Well that was me, at 5:55 this morning. And you know the really bizarre part? It's that I had been hitting the snooze button, apparently nine or ten times, all the while getting more and more agitated with Evil Edna.

Now, I don't know this person. I don't even know if Edna is her real name. She is an eight-letter "entity" that I have recently begun reading, and in no way has she offended me, frightened me, or made me fear for my safety. It's not like I sit around and go, "Oooooh. Evil Edna sure is EVIL."

But for some reason, every time I hit the snooze button her name was going through my head, and it wasn't an alarm clock going off, waking me up for an important meeting. Oh, no. It was more like a battle of wits. Hitting that snooze button was my only defense against... something. Couldn't tell ya. But it involved Evil Edna.

Anyway, so it's 5:55. I bolt up in a state of confusion and look out the window, and yes... the car is sitting there waiting on me. (Probably for the last twenty minutes.) Now, it's a three hour flight to Houston, and my appointment with the doctor is at 1pm, so I have no option for a later flight. It's do or die time. I ran out and told the driver that I need fifteen minutes.

Ok... priorities.

Hygiene. There was no way I could leave without taking a shower, because I didn't wash my hair the day before and (as any person with baby-thin, straight hair will tell you) going one more day was not an option. So I jump in the shower, and I think I was out in 2 minutes... Yeah, so I probably didn't get all of my 2000 parts, but speed was crucial at this point. I jump out, throw a beach towel around my head - the first thing I could find - and run into the kitchen, trailing water behind me. It's 6:01.

Children. I grab a can of moist catfood and dump it into a bowl for Sam, because the little bastard can't make it through a day unless he gets his Classic Seafood Entree. George luckily is not so picky, so as I'm filling up the water bowl, at the same time I'm ripping open the ten pound bag of Science Diet wide enough for her to get her whole body through, and they can both eat til their little hearts' content. It's 6:04.

Clothing. Luckily I had just gone to the cleaners the day before, and my suit was neatly hanging on my bedroom door. So I rip the plastic off the hanger (causing Sam to dash into the closet, having once been traumatized by his accidental entanglement in a plastic grocery bag) and start looking for the essentials... like underwear. Now, I have no idea where all of my underwear is at this point, but after ripping open two dresser drawers only to find panties my granny wouldn't be caught dead in, I decided fuck it... I'm going commando. The mystery of the missing panties will have to be solved another day. It's 6:08.

Packing. I started to look for something to wear on the flight home, but since nothing was neatly hanging on my door, I quickly decided I could wear this same suit. Hell, men do it all the time. (And they probably aren't wearing underwear either.) I did, however, need to pack my toiletries, my makeup, and a couple of things for the meeting. I dumped it all into my carry-on suitcase and ran and put it on the porch, to signal the driver that it would just be a few more minutes. It's 6:11.

And finally.... "The Hair." Good Lord, what to do with the hair? At this point it is still in a towel wrapped up on my head. So, I did the only thing I could do. I combed it, attached one gigantic velcro roller to my forehead, and attacked it with the blow dryer. I didn't even attempt to get the back or sides dry... my only concern was covering my Dawson Leary forehead with something that could attempt to pass for bangs. It's now 6:14.

So finally off I go, after slamming my laptop into my bag, grabbing a diet coke, and taking one more quick glance around the room to see if I've forgotten anything. As I'm putting my makeup on in the car, it occurs to me to make sure that I have my id to board the plane. Check. What I *don't* have, however, is my wallet containing all of my credit cards, including my corporate one with which I was to pay for dinner. I do some thinking, and I realize that I do have my bank card, and I can just pay for the hotel and dinner out of my checking account, and get reimbursed. No problem, right?

Wrong. The *good* news is that Mario Andretti got me to the airport with a few minutes to spare. The *bad* news is that I decided to use those minutes to buy some magazines with... what else? My bank card. The chick told me that something was wrong with her credit machine, so I would have to pay cash. I go digging aound my bag for some loose change, and the next thing I know my bank card has vanished. Not in my purse, not in my bag, not on the counter, not in my pocket. I had almost completely emptied my bag in the middle of the store when I heard "last call" for my flight to Houston. Grrr. So I get on the plane... no credit card, no bank card, no cash. Broke. Oh, and I also completely forgot to pack some surgical instrument prototypes, which is one of the main reasons I am flying to Houston in the first damn place. Wow, hopefully I can get through the meeting on my good looks and charm.

So, needless to say - I'm a little flustered right now. I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I get there. I guess I can borrow some money from the sales rep, but how embarrassing. I guess I could lie and say my wallet was stolen. Shit, I wouldn't want him to think I was irresponsible. Heh.

---

Friday. 5:03pm.

Well, it all worked out. Sort of.

I called my travel department, and they arranged with the hotel to have my room direct billed to the company. They also arranged to have a car pick me up at the hotel, so I wouldn't have to pay for a $60 cab ride back to the airport. Tom, the sales manager for the area, picked me up from the airport to take me to the meeting, and he said that he didn't mind paying for dinner - and yes, shame on me, but I did lie. Of course, I got totally busted when I was taking out a notebook to show the surgeon something, and lo and behold! My bank card falls innocently onto the table. Too bad I had already called my bank and told them to cancel the card.

The meeting was successful. I described the instruments using hand gestures and finger puppets, and he was able to get enough of an idea to agree to work on the project. Afterwards Tom and I met up with some other local reps at this outdoor bar to celebrate. Tom paid.

Other than that it was pretty uneventful, except for this morning when the car failed to pick me up for the airport. I was not a happy camper... I was completely hungover, it's 5:45am, and I have no cash to take a cab. The hotel was finally nice enough to charge $60 on the credit card number they had on file, and gave me cash. Heh... I guess I'm gonna have fun explaining that one when somebody at the office sees the invoice.

Fortunately I have had no more instances involving Evil Edna. And no, I have no clue why I was dreaming about her. All I do know is that somehow she set off a chain of events that will haunt me for at least three to five more days, until I get my new bank card. So even though she is still one of my favorite reads, I would recommend to use caution before reading any entries right before you go to bed. I'm just sayin'...

feeling... hungover
wondering... how many people are going to think I'm a complete loon
praying for... the soldiers and journalists who are MIA miss something?
goodbye my friend - 2005-04-29
out of the loop - 2005-04-09
a quest for clarity - part 1 - 2004-08-30
no plan for a sequel - 2004-08-27
slacker of the month - 2004-08-26