Worst airport experience ever

Got overcharged on my airport taxi because the driver took a wrong turn. My early morning flight, which I got here at four to make, was pushed back so far I’m not going to make my connection. I’ve been trying to call the airline and the trip booking website for help, but they’ve shuttled me back and forth between them a grand total of eight times this morning, with no assistance in sight.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I got pulled out of the security line by a TSA agent. That always fucking happens to me for some reason, but this time apparently the knee brace and tights I was wearing under my jeans meant she had to touch my breasts and butt.

I haven’t seen Bernie in a year and a half and I really do not have the money to do all this over again. Why wouldn't they just change my goddamn flight?

Eventually just bagged it on trying to get anything fixed about the old itinerary and went for a new one, on a larger airline. Still fighting to get the old one officially cancelled and refunded— there’s a weird miscommunication between the airline and the booking company —but according to policy I should be able to make that happen once the information sharing actually occurs.

I don’t get in until much, much later, and both connecting flights are a little longer. And even if I do manage to get the old trip refunded, rebooking put me already outside my budget for the trip. 😣 But at least I’ll get there without having to pay for a cab home and back again.

So I’m on track again, I guess. Had to go to a different terminal, so had to go through the security line again. Got pulled out like I always goddamn do— WHY? WHAT HAVE I DONE? —but at least it was the customary cursory pat-pat-pat instead of somebody pulling the waistband of my pants away from my body.

Now I just need to kill five hours before I can actually get on my way. Exhaustion is making everything worse, so I wish there were some place I could safely take a nap without creeping people out or my stuff being stolen.

I think somewhere, when I muttered about how I wasn’t enthused about having to go to Bernie’s family reunion, a monkey’s paw must have curled closed.