i'm on a cot.

In the Chicago airport. Like a legit Coleman army cot. Feels like I'm in a war or "a homeless shelter," according to my new friend Kendra. She is catching a bus to Michigan at 7am (because her dad is too paranoid to let her sisters make the hour and a half drive to pick her up) and we told the southwest employees (who have been great, I might add) that she was my escort so she could come back through security and stay with me overnight on said cots, though unticketed. This is all after a stranger named Parker, a male model with a mustache, offered to ask his mom is I could stay at their house tonight, and my parents booked me a room at the Super 8 while I was in the air. But with all the delays and the fact that I have to check in again in 3 hours, this seemed like the best option. Plus I didn't want to experience Chicago for the first time in the snowy cold and without my sister in town... come on now!

All I can say right now is that people are kind, I am sleepy, and this would be a lot less fun if Christmas music weren't playing. And I'll admit it-- though it is super frustrating and annoying, removing the whole wheelchair/crutches element from the equation would take away from the value of this scene in the movie version of my life story. I mean, you can't make this stuff up!

Xxo.