I know I travel a lot by myself but I will openly admit I always get a little anxious the week before I fly out. Part of it is the excitement of the unknown and the spontaneous adventures that I will have, but the other part is anticipating all the things that could possibly happen to me while traveling. I have to keep reminding myself that I live for these moments of spontaneity and the unknown in some weird masochistic way.

Last year was a totally shit show from the second I arrived to check in. My flight was delayed and I had a tight connection! I started freaking out on the inside and texted my Mom who is normally my rock in situations like this. However, she too was about to leave the country on her own vacation so she wasn’t a huge help in calming me down. I knew I was about to get stranded in New-Fucking- Jersey  and this stressed me even more than before (excuse me, I didn’t take PTO to be in NEW FUCKING JERSEY). I finally calm myself down (I had 5 hours to do so confined in a seeat) and I land in New Jersey and guess who loses my bag… UNITED. Not only that, I completely miss my connecting flight to Copenhagen so I have to wait in a line for 1 hour for them to “put me on a new flight”. Irony is, they actually didn’t book me on the flight which I came to find out the next morning when I just had a feeling that I should double check. Sure enough, when I called SAS (the airline I was supposedly supposed to be booked on) they informed me that I hadn’t been rebooked by United, in fact I wasn’t on any flight at all. After a nice heart to heart with the SAS agent he pulled some strings and got me on a flight that connected through Norway (Norway, I will come back for you another time even though you are crazy expensive).

Mind you I now am on like day 3 without a suitcase and am in Norway. All I have is my day backpack with 3 pairs of undies I picked up from Target that morning, an iPhone charger, two shirts (from target), a pair of jeans (from target), the clothes on my back that I’ve been flying in for 2 days (no jacket, just a thick wool sweater), Supergas (thank god I was not wearing my flip flops), my toilatries (thank god I always pack those in my carry on) and a journal (you know, to document this crazy adventure). The TSA agent is looking me up and down like I’m either the worlds best female packer or a bomber and I’m thinking please oh please don’t take anything away from me, its all I have, literally, ALL. I. HAVE!

Eventually, he let me through and I made it to Copenhagen. My bag — not so much. It did finally made it to me on day 5 of 8 (my vacation got cut short two days) with a broken wheel.

All in all, I learned a lot about myself and how to travel moving forard:

  1. I am a motherfucking bad ass. If anyone tries to tell me otherwise I will karate chop them in the jugular.
  2. I should always travel with a little bit of “emergency” Xanax. Wine isn’t enough in certain situations.
  3. Always make friends (this time it was an adorably sweet blonde boy from Sweden).
  4. Pack a few changes of clothes just incase you need to get through a few days without your stuff.
  5. Family and friends are sometimes the only comfort you need when you are out of your element.
  6. Make an epic playlist and save it locally to your devise (yep, Prism Tats is going on this playlist this year and sure, I’ll post my playlist before I leave)

So, this year things should go a little bit smoother. Pray to the Gods this doesn’t happen again but, if it does, I will use my yogic breath and if all else fails there’s always my “emergency” Xanex.

Talk to you all later from Europe 🙂


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