The next day I flew to DC for the Saturday wedding of my old friend Catherine, which was lovely. I got to stay with my good friend Colleen and also hang out with my other good friend Katie, neither of whom I've seen in about two years. Do you want to see some pictures? Yeah, me too. HAHA. I don't know what it is about me, but I am awful at taking pictures, remembering to take pictures, etc. In fact the only photo I took all weekend was this:
Impressive, no? I actually took this to illustrate to Colleen the depths to which one must go in order to fly to West Virginia. I was thrilled to find a relatively inexpensive flight direct from Charleston, WV to Reagan and back. I don't know if you've ever been to Reagan National Airport in DC, but it's decently nice. I guess. I don't know. I'm not a connoisseur of airports, although I can tell you I hate Charles duGalle in Paris and JFK in NYC, but whatevs. At any rate, I discovered my gate was 36A. Cool. I head to gate 36 and don't see my flight on any of the monitors. To make a long story short, I found out that if you're flying to West Virginia, you don't get to wait upstairs with all the other passengers flying to more exotic destinations like Greenville, SC. If you're flying to the Best Virginia, you must escalate downstairs to the world's tiniest waiting area where you can't hear any announcements being made. Not only are you left downstairs, but you don't even get to board an airplane. First you must board a bus (you can see it through the windows there) which drives you to the middle of the airplane parking lot (I kid you not) where you finally get to walk across the lot, up some steps and board your plane. Good God. What did West Virginia ever do to you?
Anyways, that pretty much sums up my weekend in a nutshell. I'll be leaving you with a picture of Snicks sorting coupons because who doesn't want to see a rabbit sorting coupons?