It's pouring (again) so I am hotel bound because I really don't feel like going out in the rain. So far I have: gone to the gym, talked to my BF on the phone, watched some TV (Billable Hours = Hilarious) and had a tuna salad snack pack and a v8 for dinner (the only healthy-ish things I could find in the hotel variety store, and did not require me going out in the rain). I was hoping to go see some more buskers but I doubt any one's eating fire in this weather.

So today started at 5:30am as it always does on flight day and everything seemed to be going according to plan; until I arrived at the airport...

Typically I check in online the night before, but there's never a line at the self check in kiosks so as of last week I started using them, they use less paper and it means I don't have to buy any. So at 6:50am up to the kiosk I go, tap in my aeroplan number and... RESERVATION NOT FOUND.
Okaaaay maybe I put it in wrong. So I tap it in a second time and again RESERVATION NOT FOUND. Crap. Now I have to stand in line. I get to the front and give the lone agent my name. "I'm sorry miss I can't find you on this flight."

I could swear I booked it weeks ago when I booked the tickets for the previous two weeks. Ok I think, don't panic (yeah right my flight is leaving at 8:10 and it is now 7:00). I call the travel agent to find out what happened, they have no record of a booking for me (WHAT!?!). I ask if there is any space on the flight I am supposed to be taking "one moment" the agent replies. All I can think is that I am soooooo fired. Now I'm sure they wouldn't ACTUALLY fire me over a missed flight, but this has never happened to me before and I really wasn't looking forward to trying to explain it. After what seemed like an eternity the agent returns, and tells me that she has booked me on the 8:10 flight and the return on Friday. I thank her profusely and check in. By 7:20 I'm through security and have just enough time to grab a coffee and a smutty magazine for the trip.

The deities of air travel were smiling on me today, but to make extra sure that I never have to rely on them again any time soon I have booked my flights and hotel for the next 3 weeks and triple checked the reservations!

I have heard other female consultants say that they wear a fake engagement ring or wedding band to ward off unwanted attention, so I have decided to conduct a little experiment. I purchased a plain silver band for $10 that I will wear when I'm on the road to see if it does in fact act as a deterrent. In a few weeks we should know if I wasted my money, or if I purchased $10 worth of "back the crap off."

Those that know me will recall with fondness my uncanny ability to attempt to say something completely innocent, and then have it come out entirely wrong. Not wrong in the sense that someones feelings get hurt, but in the sense of I end up blushing. So in the spirit of the phrase "if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at" I am creating a separate category of posts entitled (mis)spoken. And so, without further ado, I bring you:

(mis)spoken 1

Today two clients asked me about travelling, and wheather or not I went home every weekend when the client is out of town. I replied that I typically went home as I have boyfriend there, and you know how men can be with cleaning, I need to go home and... polish things. Client number 1 took the phrase at face value within the context of the conversation. Client number 2 however began to snicker. I then realized what I had done.

Eating alone is always a precarious endeavour, but never more so than this evening...

I decided to head over to the Economy Shoe Shop that my friend LA took me to the week before for a drink. The menu looked decent and the atmosphere was pretty cool. I had my usual eating alone accessory with me, a book. No sooner had I ordered when a large eccentric man came over to ask if I was reading a guide book (I was, Lonely Planet Guide to South India). When he found out that I wasn't from Halifax he proceeded to scold me for not partaking in the atmosphere. Then he noticed what I was drinking (dirty martini) flourished and disappeared. Ok... strange I thought and went back to reading. A minute later he's back with a gift for me, he hands me a copy of "The Martini Companion, a Connoisseur's Guide." I tried to protest that I could not accept it, but he gave me such a look that I quickly thanked him. He then for reasons unknown began to sing his favorite driving song to me, which consisted of him singing the phrase "pinch your nipples" several times over (complete with mimed actions), and then exclaiming "this is how we drive." I told him that I wasn't sure I wanted to know what highways he was driving on. He then left as abruptly as the first time. At this point my meal arrived and I suppose he figured it wouldn't be polite to interrupt me while I was eating, the meal itself was uneventful.

My respite did not last long however, as soon as my plate was bussed, he was back. But this time he had barely gotten a word out, when an oddly attractive man (I say oddly b/c the ones that typically approach me are freaks) came over gave me the "I'll help you out" look, distracted the man and managed to steer him away back to the table from whence he came. Sweet, saved by a well dressed stranger I thought. A few minutes later the distractor came over and I thanked him for the help. He introduced himself as C from Bedford and said that he didn't want me to think this was his usual gig "saving the pretty girl from the eccentric weirdo in a bar" and then asked if I was married or had a boyfriend, to which I replied boyfriend. I thanked him again for the help, and at this point the fiasco should have ended.

But it didn't.

B came back, but before he could make it all the way to my table C swooped in and guided B back to his table. C then came back and I thanked him again. Then he asked "If you didn't have a boyfriend would you talk to me?" After pointing out that I already was talking to him he asked if he was "my type." I replied "hypothetically?" but before I could say more he said "What's the matter am I not good looking enough? I have two degrees." At this point I opted to dispense with the politeness and break out the sarcasm: "Well given that B over there, compared you to Mel Gibson earlier, I don't think your looks are in question." (as an aside, he looked nothing like MG). He then replied that he got it, and then walked away.

I then figured it was time to make my escape, downed the rest of my martini, opted to sacrifice the olives and slipped out unnoticed.