- The boarding passes are printed. With a good 2+ hours in my favorite airport…Atlanta. The black hole of air travel.
- My luggage has been pawned off on my lovely roommate who is driving south as we speak. I could get used to this service.
- Down jacket has been sprayed liberally with Camp Dry and left to cure for 48 hours per instructions. Do I think this will really waterproof my coat? No, but it’s better than nothing because it looks like it will be chilly AND POUR until Sunday. Thank you, Charlton Heston, for your declaration that keeps it from raining on Bacchus Sunday.
- Copious amounts of spending cash have been withdrawn (copious for ME anyway), to be placed in several locations on my person because I am ever the paranoid traveler.
- The freezer has been stocked with a variety of Hungry-Man dinners so my husband does not wither away and die while I am gone. Even though he is the “good” cook in the family, he seems to forget to eat when I am away. It’s like he falls into a near-coma state in his recliner watching reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond or King of Queens until I come home.
There is what looks to be a toxic mess the size of Love Canal surrounding my backpack – the one piece of baggage I’m actually carrying myself. It is the detritus of whatever I couldn’t bear to part with early or couldn’t pack until the last minute. This WILL fit neatly into the backpack with a lovely sense of order until TSA tears it apart searching for something that looks funny on the x-ray. My guess for this year is the stainless steel KDW flask. Or we’ll argue over whether chapstick and creme eyeshadow belongs in the clear baggie or not. Good times. I actually get disappointed if TSA doesn’t look through my baggage on the way to Mardi Gras. This year there’s a lot less weirdness to go through though. All the random costume pieces are with Rachel, as are the wigs and the parade throws for KOE and KDW. But at least we can chuckle over the awesome KDW logo (which I would love to post here but I can’t remember if it’s relatively secret unless you know us or see us on the prowl) and my fuzzy green hat that declares “BeadWhore”.
I know I’m forgetting something. Mental note: throw on the medical ID bracelet. Why I think to do that when I travel but never any other time I don’t know. I guess I want my body to be easily identified if I wind up dead in an alley in a city away from home, but I assume local people would know me? This is how my mind works. It would be nice if I do the laundry before I leave so I only have to deal with half as much when I come home but the entire house will be infected with dirt and glitter and feathers and who knows what else no matter what. That’s what Ash Wednesday is for. Laundry.