maysblog

According to Wikipedia.org…

Murphy’s law is an adage in Western culture that broadly states, “if anything can go wrong, it will.” It is also cited as: “If there’s more than one possible outcome of a job or task, and one of those outcomes will result in disaster or an undesirable consequence, then somebody will do it that way”; “Anything that can go wrong, will,” the similar “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong,” or, “Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way.”

In the spirit of this wonderful guarantee, I present to you another great example of this truth in action.

One of my dear friends got engaged, married, and moved within the short amount of time I was in Europe this summer. Her husband is in the military and will be attending Harvard Law next year, so they were not afforded the luxury of time and planning in the matter. Training at Quantico, she lives in the D.C. area. Given the opportunity to attend the inauguration of our forty forth president, it was only logical that Amber and I fly up early to indulge ourselves in some much needed girl time with our newlywed friend Katy. This is a recipe for disaster… and this disaster tastes delicious.

The evening before, previously mentioned ‘young-man-whom-Brittany-mustered-up-the-nerve-to-ask-on-a-date’ (we’ll call him ‘Carrots’) was kind enough to drop me off in Houston, undoubtedly trying to squeeze in as many moments together as possible prior to my departure. Needless to say, I think things are going pretty well. So Carrots takes me to Houston, eats dinner and plays Rock Band with the family when Amber arrives and joins in the fun. We had a great time, drinking ‘grape juice’ and living out our rock star fantasies. Oddly enough, Amber furthered my belief that my parents know/are connected to everybody, when we discovered that her Mom and my Dad went to the same junior high, and were close friends! Needless to say, it was a long and enjoyable evening that turned into a hilarious morning. Having to return to work, Carrots comes into my room to say goodbye before he leaves and cannot shake me awake. My parents partake in the challenge, and none of it is happening. They leave for work, calling the neighbors, who proceed to wreck havoc on the doorbell, activating the barking of the dogs, and to no avail. Amber has an excuse; her sleeping pattern is the opposite of normal people, so she enters into REM sleep more often than lighter sleep, and so when she is out, there is absolutely no getting her up. I, however, just fell into a coma.

Next thing I know, I am awoken at 9:25 by a panicked red-head who reminds me that our flight leaves Bush Intercontinental Airport at 10:15. Profanities were exclaimed, but we called a cab and ran out of the door, un-showered and in the dirty clothes we wore the night before. We changed the flight, and I called Katy telling her we were arriving later, but gave her no other details. Once we got to the airport, we change our flight, and discover that my bag is 14 pounds overweight. Determined, we dance the ‘excess baggage’ tango, layering in each other’s clothes, transferring sweaters and boots and scarves. Finally make it through security, we race to our gate in the farthest terminal, and crash. Our heads are still spinning from the night before. On the same flight was a team of Amish people; I’m pretty sure seeing people like us was a pleasant reminder to themselves why they remain Amish. Self aware women, we couldn’t help but continually laugh at ourselves, fully knowing that we were ‘THOSE girls’ on the flight. To make things even better, when I leave for the restroom, Amber was kind enough to get me a glass of water. Upon my return, I finagle my way into the seat and manage to spill right in my lap. That’s right, in the words of Billy Madison, “You’re not cool unless you pee your pants.”

EVENTUALLY we arrived in Baltimore, and with the help of Katy navigated our way around the airport and back to the car. Thanks to Murphy, this is shaping up to be one heck of a week…