Saturday, May 15, 2010


I'm in California and I'm hung over. And the wedding is today. My trusty board friend and I overdid it a little last night, and because we're not 22 years old anymore, we feel like we've been hit by trucks. She's napping, I'm drinking Gatorade.

Man, hangovers used to be funny, or at least a source of pride that you went out and partied last night, wooo! You know? Now they just make you feel like a jackass. The wedding's at 6:00; it's 1:30. Less than five hours to pull our asses in gear.

But let me talk about the airport, because it was a really special experience for me.

I arrived at 3:15, with my flight leaving at 5:50. I get to the kiosk to plug in my information so I can avoid the devastatingly long line to check in. I pull out the two sheets of paper I had printed out with all my information, only... it had none of my information. I, in my wisdom, had put my complete faith in technology and had grabbed the pages from the printer without bother to check them, where I would have noticed that the only thing that came out was the fine print, and nothing of importance.

So I took the long route, entering my name, my credit card, my passport, my destination, and eventually the kiosk asked me a question that stumped me. But not before revealing to me that my boarding pass had me listed with an error in my name. Basically, rather than Jendra Dammit Berri, it said Jendradammit Berri. Don't people get barred from entering planes with that sort of thing wrong?

So without my flight number, booking reference or, you know, anything, I meekly got in the bitterly long line and fretted. And when it came my turn I could only apologize for being such a nuisance while a woman asked me question after question that I couldn't answer, or answer in full. But I got my pass, and Jendradammit was ready for customs.

I was wrong to feel a little soul-crushed by the first line. The customs line was very exciting, in a holy-shit-I'm-going-to-have-to-set-up-camp-and-live-here-because-the-line-is-so-long kind of way. Plus the guy in front of me started singing indiscernible songs, which always adds a sense of facepalm to any undesirable situation.

But eventually the line did end and we were all then ushered into a second long line. Then after customs, security, which is always fun. You get to take off your shoes and partially undress and then scramble afterwards so you don't stall anyone else.

I arrived at my gate. And then after 20 minutes an announcement was made that my flight was leaving on the other end of the terminal at a different gate.

By the time I landed at 8:00 Pacific time (11:00 in my head), I was a tad wired. I'd consumed only caffeinated drinks and a slice of banana bread. I met up with my board friends and we drank wine. Then we went out with the bride and groom and drank shots.

Hence the hangover. We've been having fun. We've been slowly dying. There's more to come. Frig, the wedding hasn't even happened yet.


  1. You know, I don't think I've ever asked you what your Dammit is. Or is that just throwing me off?

  2. My secret for hangover avoidance is Gravol. Pop a couple before bed (I've been known to wash them down with whatever I'm drinking) and they knock me out long enough to sleep it off. (Otherwise, I wake up when the booze wears off and can't get back to sleep and end up feeling crappy) Also grilled cheese with bacon always seems to work wonders for some reason.

    Boo hangovers!

    Glad fun was had!