Fifteen Minutes, Nine Ounces

Today’s day trip to San Francisco concluded with wine at the airport before flying home to Orange County. I was running a little short on time, but am always happy to accommodate a glass when possible.

“Would you like the small or large size?” our server asked me after I requested a Pinot Noir.

It was like he should have been asking me about fries. Or beer. But no, he was most certainly asking me if I wanted to super-size my wine. One guess what my answer was.

While I enjoy an adult beverage before most flights, this was a tad excessive — primarily because I hadn’t eaten much all day. I was also coming down off something of a stress-high, was exhausted and desperately in need of a nap.

The wine went right to my head and, before I knew it, I was hoofing it to my gate. The five minute walk flew by (thanks, wine), I boarded the plane and collapsed into my Economy Plus seat (such a cruel name, by the way — Plus? Plus what? Plus the perception that you think you’re in a roomier seat when you really can’t tell a difference from the ones across the aisle? Snort!).

Not noticing that my feet were swelling in the pointy-toed kitten heels I foolishly decided to wear for the first time (really, who breaks in shoes on a travel day?), I settled in for a brief snooze. In Orange County, I walked off the ramp, inside the terminal, through the terminal, across the street to the parking deck, through the parking deck and collapsed once more — this time in my car. I peeled my shoes off. Bloody heels! Meaning, literally…bloody heels. Torn flesh. Fantastic. Excited at the prospect of wearing more sensible shoes tomorrow (read: flip-flops) when I visit three more airports.

While consuming nine ounces of Pinot Noir on a weary, empty stomach isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done (nor is it the most stupid, for the record), tonight I am thankful that it lulled me to sleep and erased most of the memory of my feet turning twice their size prior to being torn to shreds on my journey home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I heart you, vino.

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