Having My Cake and Getting Eaten By It
Radiation Level: 16 Tablespoons of Crisco
Listening To: Sleep To Dream by Fiona Apple
I was to flying Washington DC, but had to change planes at JFK to get to Washington Dulles Airport. This changeover required getting in a tram that went underwater and brought me right into the center of JFK (So European, I thought). Once at JFK, I decided to kill some time shopping for pants, only to get into the store and realize, I’m not interested in trying anything on, I’d better get to my gate. But by the time I get to the gate, I’m too late to board my flight.
I argue with the lady at the counter who assures me there’s no other flights until the next day. I say to her, “It’s my birthday, I have a cake to prove it.” She asks to see the cake and I give her the white cake that reads “Happy Birthday FalloutGirl”. She says, “Well, you’ll have to go to the main ticket counter.”
I walk through the maze of elevators and giant staircases that are JKF and finally find the main ticket counter. It’s sort of like a diner/ticket counter. You can eat lunch while you sort out your travel woes. This sounds great, so I sit at an empty yet messy space at the counter. I get the attention of another lady behind the glass and tell her my problem. She says, “Where’s the cake?” I say I left it at the other ticket counter. Well, she needs to see it.
Skipping the cheeseburger and fries, I go back to the other counter and ask for my cake back. They don’t have it.
My frustration growing, it seems there is a flight to DC at 2pm if only I can find my birthday cake which is now lost in bureaucratic TSA HELL.
Then I wonder if someone has eaten my cake and ponder the horror of being stuck at JFK alone, forever. Cake-less.
Then I woke up.