But then I went to Omaha.
Considering how little I enjoy flying, I've done quite a lot of it lately. Plus, if you fly to Omaha on Frontier Airlines there is a good chance that at some point you're going to get on a plane that is so small they can't hook up one of those accordion tunnel things to it so you have to cross the tarmac and climb the stairs into the plane. Or, my favorite, deplane down steps before crossing the tarmac to the terminal, which allows you to pretend that you are the President or royalty or whatever as you come down the stairs.
Although- travel tip here- I do not recommend flying if you have a head cold. Not that I would have done things any differently even had I known what was about to happen to me but it's still good advice. Because if you are in an airplane (especially a small one) and you are stuffed up from a cold you will probably, at some point, experience gut-wrenching, eye-popping, little-freaky-animals-with-talons-searing pain throughout your head and you will think that you are having an aneurysm and while one part of you fights to keep from screaming like a little girl the other part of you will regret all the Bret Michaels jokes you ever told and then the plane will finally land and the pain will subside but you'll be nearly deaf for the rest of the day.
So instead of looking all pretty and happy and let's-celebrate-your-40th-Poodle giddy when JP picked me up I was red of face, teary eyed and kept saying, "Huh?"
Fortunately, after a very nice Italian dinner (which he allowed me to buy for him because he always pays for everything when I'm in town which is nice but come on now, it was his birthday) and some advice from a diver about how to clear your ears and after we watched "The Office" and after he made me tea and built me a tent and set up the humidifier and I slept the sleep of the righteous, I woke up the next morning with my hearing restored and ready to party.