Chapter One. In which Erin goes through her own personal hell.

I'm going to sound like a wimp in this post. I don't care. I've had 1 hour of sleep in the past 36, I've been fighting with people in two different languages and I'm just exhausted.

Let's start with US Airways. I will never, ever, fly with this company again. Not only was my flight delayed twice and I had to change gates twice, but the new flight I set up (because I missed my first one) was completely ignored and they routed me through two more planes and another country.

On the plane to Frankfurt, I'm doing alright. Quite happy because I'm eating a baquette with butter in the middle. Then the plane gets rocky. Really rocky. Like hurricane rocky. I remember this guy sitting next to me on the flight. I don't remember what he looked like or what clothes he was wearing. I remember his shoes. Nice shoes, kinda hipster shoes (but not obnoxiously so). I remember throwing up all over them. I tried reaching for the vomit bag. Except there was none. I apologized over and over in French and English and I think a language I made up on the spot, and he was cool with it. Didn't even make me compensate him, which I wanted to do.Thank God for nice people. I could've kissed him, but at that moment, I think he wouldn't appreciate it.

So I'm sitting in an airport whose staff speaks a language I can only say one word in: (Schiza, if you were wondering). I think I'll be getting into Brussels at 5. I think I might have someone picking me up. I don't know. I've been close to tears for the past 24 hours but right now, I just want to curl up and sleep.

I won't lie. Halfway to Frankfurt, I wanted to go home really badly. It wasn't worth it anymore. I'm still not sure it is. But, hell, I paid too much and I've worked too hard to get here. I'm not going to let some stupid rerouting and stranding and vomiting get in my way.

Honestly, it could get worse. I could be on my period. Oh wait...