A Fatally Magnetic Attraction

It follows me. I can't help it.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out of town. I left work too late, but going 85 all the way to the airport ensured my timely-enough arrival. Made it through security without a glitch. Had some time to kill, so I went the opposite of my gate (B5) to Starbucks at B15. Priorities.

Stopped off at the newsstand for some magazines and water. Bathroom break. It was a few minutes to boarding, so I headed for my gate. I get as far as B6 and see only a sign and an arrow: B1-B5. Sh*t.

I start booking. I am focused. I am carefully balancing my coffee. I go on endless moving sidewalk after endless moving sidewalk. Seriously, miles of moving sidewalks. I reach the end. Another sign: Terminals A & C.

I missed my turn. Back on the endless sidewalks, running, coffee spilling all over me in the process. Make it to the gate to find the plane has been delayed.

Weekend, however, is awesome.

Back to airport - plane delayed indefinitely. Get back hours later than planned. Pull out my cell phone to make a call - the screen is totally blank. I guess at last dialed calls and correct buttons to make the call I'm trying to make.

I go to the baggage claim. My bag is the last one out.

Go to parking garage and have forgotten where I parked.

I finally find my car. I heave my over-packed suitcase (seriously, I had enough clothes to stay two weeks) into the trunk. I'm exhausted. My plan of picking up Pei Wei and watching Grey's Anatomy has already been killed. Now all I want is to go home, unpack, and go to bed.

My car won't start. I try several times. It's not starting.

I call Volkswagen Service. My service ran out January 31st. I call AAA. They can come in a little over 2 hours. I tell the person that it's 29 degrees. I have no heat. I'm in a deserted parking lot at the airport.

This matters not at all to her.

I take out my cell phone again to give in and call my brother-in-law. Phone totally dead. I plug it in to the car and luckily it allows me to dial (screen still gone, however). He comes, jumpstarts my car, and I go home.

I wake up to find my phone has taken its last breath.

At lunch, I spend way too much $ on a new phone that I buy only because it's ridiculously sexy. No one can hear me on it.

I return it. I get a decidedly less-sexy phone. I leave Cingular. The charger keeps popping out of the phone. I go back to Cingular. I get a new charger; leave; it continues to pop out. I go back to Cingular.

I get another phone. We reprogram it. Chrissie (my Cingular salesperson and I are on a first-name basis now) says, "If I knew you better, I'd say you have bad luck."

"Chrissie," I say, "you don't need to know me better to know this."

I go to my sister's so we can finally take our planned trip to IKEA. My car won't move. Maybe 2 mph with the accelerator completely depressed.

Speaking of depressed.

AAA tows my car to the dealer.

Monday, I find out that my car simply needs a new battery & it's under warranty. This is good news. I pick it up and hit the tollway to go meet my family for dinner. I have Daniel Powter's "Bad Day" cranked up in my car (I think it might be a super-cheesy song, but I really like it), so I don't notice the flashing lights in my rear view mirror for some time.

I pull off the tollway. I wait for the ticket I certainly deserve, as I was doing my regular 85.

I think perhaps I shouldn't listen to songs entitled "Bad Day." I'm just asking my old friend to show up.

Mr. Highway Patrol Man comes to my window. "I'm stopping you tonight because I clocked you going over 55."

Yes, a lot over 55. I almost want to laugh, because, seriously.

He goes back to his car. He comes back. He gives me a warning.

Welcome, Good Luck. Welcome. It's lovely to see you. I hope you'll stay a while.