Snow Day

We were watching the news during lunch at work yesterday when they started a 10-minute segment on the snowstorms in Europe. They showed distressed travelers in dank terminals, piles and piles of snow flurries, and basically mass chaos everywhere within a 3-mile radius of most airports.

All I could think was, “man that looks like fun.”

I love traveling. I love adventure. To me, being stranded in an airport for days at a time means I get to read all the books I haven’t had time for (because I’ve been traveling, duh), write down the full weight of the thoughts flooding my mind (because I have no other agenda), and dream about my life any way I want it to be.

NOTE: All the people who fly on planes weekly for business (hi dad!) are shaking their indignant fists at my romanticism and infatuation with travel right now. Hey, I never said I wanted this as a job.

So my first thought after I thought about how fun Christmas in Heathrow would be, was “my gosh, Jen would want to kill me if we were in an airport for more than 2 hours.” Seriously, she would want to slay me with a sickle.

Jen doesn’t…how do I say this lightly without ruining our first Christmas… “deal well” with activities like this. She’d much rather be curled up next to the fire gas heater with a cup of peppermint tea at our apartment.

I take this to mean I was simply blessed with copious amounts of patience and wisdom and she was given coal in her little fruits of the spirit stocking. I judge her for not being as spiritually mature as me.

Then I thought about what I would do if that airport was, instead, a fabric store and I was trapped inside because of a blizzard.

SIDE NOTE II: It sounds like I’m kind of indulging on half-truths and exaggerations for this post but I really did have all these thoughts within about a 40-second period during lunch.

I thought about a fabric store and a blizzard and where I would be at mentally if I was trapped inside and I came to the conclusion that I’d either try to pluck my eyeballs out with a cro-hook (thanks Google), or paper cut my shins until I was bleeding so bad every paramedic in Dallas was shoveling snow outside to help excavate me. Then I thought about what a wonderland Jen would find that situation. The fabric store entrapment, not the eyeball plucking.

So maybe I don’t really have a lot of patience. Maybe I just like airports. And maybe I need to stop getting mad at my wife when she doesn’t handle the same situations in the exact same ways I do.

Maybe I need to never think about paper cutting my shins ever ever ever again.

Come back later today when we announce the winner of the TOMS live (well…”live”) on our site at 1PM CST. We’ve picked a winner but we haven’t told her (or him) yet so it could be you. See y’all at 1.

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