Listen. I haven’t flown out of the country in a while, but I’m pretty sure “customs to leave America” just involved swiping my passport in the self-checking-in kiosk.
It’s like your nation of origin saying, “You have fun now, ya hear? You rascal…lol.”
I have a hunch they will be slightly more concerned when I come back. (“Ack ick ewww! Where have you been– STOP TOUCHING THINGS UNTIL YOU’RE SCREENED!!”)
In other news, I gave myself waaaay to much time to get through the non-existent customs. And, I don’t know if you know this, but airports are hella boring. So here we are. Justine’s stream-of-consciousness boredom-induced blogging. (You miss me already, right?)
I’m literally twenty feet from a Starbucks. Staring at it. Smelling it. But not buying. Because I have lofty goals of sleeping in public. (Even though I hate it. But I’m rocking four hours of sleep right now, and I’m pretty sure my “adventure touring” begins the second I touch down in San Jose. I bought a $5 juice. (Oh, airports!)
I have a lay-over on my flight there. In Miami. For two hours. Which is kind of a bummer because a) come on, I’m already so. Bored. And b) I hear Miami is pretty cool, I don’t think I’ve ever been, and this certainly doesn’t count. It’s kind of a bummer to come just that close, ya know?
I’m hoping there is some kind of gym at the resort. If I could work out two days in a row? Crazy fitness up in here. (I’m so sorry…did I mention the four hours of sleep?)
My fiance is awesome. I’m pretty sure I haven’t mentioned that in at least 48 hours. (Out loud. To anyone else. That isn’t him.) He quite literally dragged himself from his warm bed to drive me to JFK. At four in the morning. Through a rain storm. That’s a boy you marry right there.
Welp, they’ve started boarding! (You’re devastated, I’m sure.) See you in Miami!