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She shuffled through her carry-on trying to find extra batteries for her soundproof headphones. Her trademark oversized sunglasses cloaked her face as she stood near security.
“Ugh,” she grunted with exasperation, unable to find anything at the bottom of her bag. “Fuck it, I’ll just buy some by my terminal.”
At this point, her hangover had not only set in, but it had completely taken her over. Three nights (and days) of drinking in San Francisco with her girlfriends was not how she pictured what was to be a relaxing, calming, and life-changing yoga retreat in Big Sur.
Standing behind two businessmen in the TSA Pre-Check line, she leaned to one side in an effort to see what the hold-up was. She audibly groaned in an attempt to hurry the line along. “What the hell is taking so long,” she said under her breath while also loud enough for others to hear.
She took one step forward and was officially second in line. Through her sunglasses, she stared directly at the TSA Agent who was clearly taking much too long looking over the driver’s licenses and tickets of the men in front of her. “This isn’t Iran,” she thought to herself. “I didn’t get TSA Pre-Check so I could wait in lines.
Another step forward.
With her arms crossed and her bag resting on the ground next to her, she tapped her foot and shifted her eyes between the TSA Agent and the Starbucks in the background just beyond security. When it was finally her turn, she approached him quickly and handed over ID while setting her phone on top of the scanner.
“Can you please remove your sunglasses?”
She, again, audibly groaned and looked at him with disdain.
“Thank you,” he said while handing her ID back to her.
She approached the conveyor belt where she looked at another agent with eyes that said, “Don’t you dare tell me to take my shoes off or remove my laptop.” Reaching down and grabbing her bag, she hurled it onto the belt and pushed it forward against the briefcase in front of her.
When a third TSA Agent signaled for her to walk forward through the detector, she stepped forward and heard an immediate buzz.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said to the agent, a female who seemed to be in her mid-40s.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but can you step to the side?”
She stepped to the side, but in the most obvious way she possibly could. When approached, she immediately asked, “What could possibly have set this off?”
“This is just a routine check, ma’am,” the agent further clarified.
“Yeah, I’m hiding so much in my yoga pants and tank top,” she said to herself, but not to herself at all.
“I should’ve just gotten the later flight with the other girls,” she thought to herself while she got pat down.
“All good, ma’am,” the agent told her, pointing her towards her luggage. She walked over to the belt and grabbed her phone and sunglasses out of the smaller tray that trailed her bag.
Her hangover, made worse by the shuffling of the security, amplified when she saw the depth of the Starbucks line that extended about thirty people.
“You’ve got to be fuckinggggg kidding,” she mumbled next to another girl who appeared to be in a similar state. She opened her phone to see if she was able to order through her Starbucks app. Apparently in airports, specifically at airport kiosks, being a Starbucks Gold Card holder didn’t mean what it means at a brick-and-mortar location. All she wanted was a Venti Iced Americano, but after looking at her Apple Watch and seeing the time, she knew she had no choice but to walk to her terminal.
She held her head down and speed-walked from the overcrowded Starbucks to E34 in hopes of seeing another coffee spot where she could attempt to re-boot (or at least buy batteries).
“You’d think San Francisco’s airport would be a step up from a third world fucking country,” she thought while looking at a Hudson News where there was no defined line, but simply a mass of people attempting to buy candy and magazines. “Ew.”
As she passed E28, she still struggled to find anywhere worthy of stopping. In a world of Cinnabon’s and Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, she yearned for a Jamba Juice (or, at the very least, a Starbucks that wasn’t overridden with non-Gold Card holders).
Quickly approaching E34 with a headache and shortness of breath, she sat down near the desk where noticed her flight was delayed 20 minutes. “Because of course it is,” she thought.
Her phone buzzed five consecutive times, all from a group text titled “Namaste In SF Forever,” a name Caroline had given to the text drunkenly the night before.
“Ughhhhhhhhhh,” one of the messages said.
“Did you make your flight?” another asked.
“Can we get brunch at The Grove?” Alex’s message asked.
The buzzing on her phone infuriated her for two reasons. Primarily, she wanted brunch at The Grove. But she also awaited a response from Todd who she’d exchanged a few messages with the night before. The messages didn’t do anything to help her hangover, and were the main reason she took half of a Xanax en route to the airport in her UberBLACK.
“How’s Derby?” her original message asked, only to get en equally generic response, followed by an even more generic exchange of pleasantries where Todd asked how their yoga retreat was going.
But from 10 p.m. until that morning, their communication had halted.
The plane began boarding, which caused her to wonder why families with young kids got priority over A-List members. “Fuck it,” she thought before standing up and approaching the woman checking tickets. “I’m going now and staring down anyone who stops me.”
In a move that worked, she found herself to be one of the first people on the plane in her upgraded seat window seat. She looked out over the tarmac and debated sending a double text to Todd, who she knew was in worse shape than she was in.
“Hey,” she typed into her phone before deleting and considering sending something more playful.
“Hungover?” she again typed, deleting for fear that it was too generic and demeaning.
She checked her Find Friends to see where he was, only to realize that they had agreed to turn it off during their break. Meanwhile, a petite woman sat in the middle seat next to her. She grabbed the woman’s arm playfully and remarked, “Ugh, thank God.” They both laughed before she diverted her energy back to her phone.
Her finger brushed over the keyboard only to finally settle on what she considered to be the perfectly appropriate message.
“I know this may sound awful because both of our lives are in hungover shambles, but drinks this week?”
She pressed send, only to feel her heart drop.
“Fuck,” she mumbled while bringing her hand to her forehead. “Who the fuck gets hungover when they were supposed to be on yoga retreat?” .
Respond
Will
Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.
@willdefries
@willdefries
defriewf
will@grandex.co
Girl reminds me of Cryin’ Chuck Schumer. Whines at seemingly the most basic tasks and acts so indignant. Girl will lose the confidence of the PGP community just like Comey lost the confidence of everyone in Washington, Republicans and Democrats alike, FIRED! Initial reports to Todd that see was in Big Sur were completely false – FAKE NEWS. This didn’t even require any illegal leaks from the very annoying Caroline to John. Girl blew it on her own, just like John Podesta blew up Hillary’s campaign and emails. Tries to play nice to get on Todd’s good side? FRAUD.
I look forward to these every single week without fail.
TGDAG is the backbone of this website.
You could have at least thrown us a bone by having a child seated next to her
Can you imagine if she would have went to fyre festival?
This is exactly how that would have gone.
Drinks this week? Fucking Todd is going to say yes. Son of a bitch, Will
I feel like Michael Jordan in that scene from Space Jam where he is forced to sign autographs and get beat by little kids every day at Moron Mountain. DeFries is Mr. Swackhammer.
Theory: Todd, after striking out with Claire and receiving a firm talking to from John, will realize his lack of long term prospects, or even lack of stabilization in life, outside of Girl and will propose to her once they are both back in non-descript major city. A sad, yet relevant and relatable, tale as old as time.
Need to know why Todd stopped texting her the night before. Pleaseeeee tell me he was with another girl. Please please please.
I believe last week there was some mention in the comments of the Grant discovery leading Todd to have a romp with a soft 6?
My guess is “another girl” is a stripper
She was going to lie to him about skipping out on the retreat?!?!?! Oh!!!! This is going to be good.
Todd should start the conversation with “so how much did the retreat cost?”
If she used his card, he will find out pretty quickly she skipped it
This proves that I spend to much time here, but Will confirmed a few weeks ago that she didn’t use his card for the trip.
Ah ok I must have missed that, my mistake
No problem man, I only know these things because I have no life.
“Hey Claire Bear, I have to go to Chicago in a few weeks for work. Think your friend Tedd and those guys from the Derby would want to grab drinks?”
Fucking hate him already.
Why? Because unlike Todd he’s a good guy who knows how to close?
Yes.
No, because “Claire Bear” is a horrible nickname to give your girlfriend.
I was hoping TSA would’ve found something in her bag and detained her
I was hoping she would be pulled off the plane, United Airlines style
Unrelated, but I actually enjoy a good airport. Weird move, I know.
I love the airport, I’ll intentionally get there early to post up in the delta lounge and get 2-3 cocktails before my flight.
Lounge access is a game changer. Free food and booze beforehand makes flying coach enjoyable.
I love a good Hudson News trip before finding somewhere to have a drink in the airport. I’d rather get there and have time to spare than be in a rush.
Especially if they have a solid USO
The USO needs beer. They are very nice and I really appreciate them, but if I have multi hours to kill I am not doing it sober.