Summer on the Florida Beaches

Danny and I traveled ALOT this summer.

Several times a month we headed out to DFW Airport to hand over all of our blow money to their remote parking attendents.

I am now insanely adept at whipping off my belt, taking off my shoes, throwing all of my carry-ons into two gray bins and tiptoeing through security. Make fun of me if you wish - but I rarely wear socks on a plane and I ALWAYS tiptoe barefoot through security. I'm convinced that less surface area touching the floor means less chances of stepping in grossness. I'm terrified of "airport foot."

Getting through security is like a game to my competetive spirit.

Did I pick the fastest line? Did I leave my shoes on long enough not to get some gross foot fungus from the airport floor, but take them off milli-seconds before I'm called through the metal detector so as not to make anyone wait behind me? Will my bags make it through without having to be searched? The person who makes it in and out of security and emerges fully dressed the fastest is a winner in my book.

Winners should get to keep their Starbucks drink all the way to their gate, since some GENIUS built Starbucks into airports PRIOR to security, but those little TSA employees won't let me carry any liquids past security. And 3 oz. of Starucks in a quart-size ziploc isn't going to cut it for this chica.

It dawned on me that I had been to the airport one too many times when I found myself standing in the security line analyzing the other passengers. "If they would just take their coat off, begin stuffing their purse into their beach bag, and emptying their pockets NOW, then we wouldn't have to stand here and watch them walk through the metal detector 12 times before they stop beeping."

I will admit it. Since marrying Danny I have turned into a travel snob. I am "that" traveler that will RUN you over, and don't get in front of me in the security line at the airport or I'm liable to start taking your shoes and watch off for you.

So, while Danny waltzes through the airport dreaming of the beach, I stress out over getting through security in under 10.6 seconds. We make a hilarious pair, even more so when I try to rush Danny through security.

Nothing like a little stress to help you appreciate relaxing a little more HERE:


We enjoyed a long weekend at Nan and Poppi's brand new condo (in the building pictured below) in Florida.

Danny's preaching lungs (which as of right now are only used on me) were put to good use:

The clouds were delicious and the weather beautiful. We spent the days on the beach and the evenings in town enjoying seafood, ice cream and live music.




We can't wait to go back, and next time I promise to resist the urge to roll my carry-on suitcase right over the passenger's foot who is ahead of me in security, even if they haven't started taking off their shoes yet.