Dork.

Hellloooo there.
I am currently in a plane, leaving the Happiest Airport on Earth. Since the plane, regrettably I’m sure, doesn’t have free WiFi, or WiFi at all for that matter, I’m typing this in Word and then copy pasting it onto my blog. Don’t worry- by the time you read this, it’ll be up already.
Being an unaccompanied minor, unofficially, I am, well, unaccompanied. Which is fine, as long as you’ve got a window or aisle seat and aren’t squished between two huge, chubby, sweaty old men. Which I’m not. In fact, I was very kindly given a window seat when I asked the woman at the front desk, and made sure to mention that I throw up if I can’t look out the window. So, I’m sitting by the window, looking out at the huge white plane wing and the little puffy clouds and the browns and golds and greens and yellows of the fields below. And I think that’s the Mississippi River RIGHT NOW.
I feel like a real dork, though. I have to wear this ugly, too big maroon shirt with a huge logo on it and these tan pants, not to mention the fact that I had to go to the bathroom twice due to the fact that I drank both a large chai (my absolute favorite drink ever, as you may have guessed) and a Coke- (they didn’t have Dr. Pepper, my second favorite drink, unfortunately. So I had to ask the two people between me and the aisle to get up and get out, twice, and then race bowlegged to the tiny, cramped, OCCUPIED bathroom. And I’ve spent about 3 hours of this flight reading and answering the school assigned questions about the book while listening to classical music and eating vegetable crisps. It’s like I’m almost asking for someone to beat me up.
But there’s not much I can do about that. I can just hope that someone doesn’t want to beat me up, because I don’t have my pepper spray.