Traveling is Perfect Excuse for All of My Flaws


Traveling brings out the worst version of myself, exacerbating each and every one of my bad habits. But for some reason, just mentioning that I survived flying within the last 24 hours absolves me of any blame whatsoever! It’s like any accountability I should have is just thrown out a window like the innocent passenger on that Southwest flight. Being a girl on the motherfucking go is like life’s hall pass for being a shitty person.

Being late

I have no respect for other people’s time. This really annoys my friends when I am an hour late for a dinner reservation at a restaurant that only seats full parties. But if I flew that day?! It’s no biggie. Like, do you even know how bad the traffic was from LaGauardia? Let’s all one-up each other’s stories about how horrific our last Uber lot experiences were at the airport and forget that I made you all look like idiots in front of an intimidating model/hostess.

Ignoring people

I generally don’t care for responding to emails or texts, especially if they are from a boy I’m ghosting or from my job. You can’t expect me to respond to your emails today, okay? The American Airlines wifi is a bigger joke than people who genuinely go on The Bachelor to find love.

Looking unpresentable

Greasy hair and sweatpants? Barely a woman. Greasy hair and sweatpants on a day that I flew? Modern woman.

Sometimes I lie about flying when people judge me for having greasy hair. I say it’s because I flew but in reality it’s because I went to an all girls’ school growing up and never had the value of washing my hair instilled in me.

Over-posting on instagram stories

I’ve been trapped with a million strangers in this airport, and yet I haven’t spoken to a single human all day. Obnoxious selfies on my stories are the only way I know how to feel connected to the human race anymore. Please don’t unfollow me?


My therapist thinks I need to work on my binge eating issues, and I think she needs to stop being such a bitch (she doesn’t get mad when I call her that because she knows crankiness is a symptom of jet lag).

Everyone–except for my therapist apparently–knows that calories do not count in airports. Like casinos, airports and planes are not subjected to a linear time system, so the societal standards around sleep, caloric intake, or alcohol consumption do not apply here. Who is to say that Flipz Yogurt Pretzels and a pint of Bud Light don’t make a suitable first breakfast?

Faking a meet cute

My friends wouldn’t care if they knew that I’m on Bumble. Or maybe they would start a group text without me to gossiping about how meeting guys online makes me “soooo desperate”. So just in case, I’m gonna say I met Shane on a plane, okay?! It’s not desperate, Susan, it’s destiny!


Flying is also a great excuse for reading a book. Because if I admit to reading a book in any other situation other than being trapped on a TV-less wifi-less metal tube, I would be exposed as a smart girl with interests and then no boys would date me.

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