The Addiction

That, of course, is the Devil's bargain of addiction: A short-term good feeling in exchange for the steady meltdown of one's life. --Daniel Goldman

A couple months ago, I flew to Washington, DC. I had not been on a plane in several years, so I have to admit, I was a little excited about traveling on a "big bird". (insert any easily-amused blonde joke here). Some people are really good packers. I'm the girl who needs 8 suitcases for a weekend. I delude myself into thinking I will have nothing to do at my destination. Or I will magically lose 10 pounds, causing me to need my skinny jeans. Also, I live in fear that my trip will be absolutely decimated if I don't bring 43 things I might need if the Special Situation happens. It could be anything from I could get invited to a cocktail party while I'm there. to I won't have anything to do--I'd better take 4 books just in case. And that is why it takes me three days to pack. And then, I will forget something obvious, like my toothpaste.

So, since I had not flown in a while, I created even more horrible situations in my head, the main one being, I will be stranded in an airport for 6 hours without food.

Never mind that there are always places to buy food in airports. I have to bring a small, travel-proof buffet with me in my carry-on. One of the items I decided to pack was of course, candy. For those of you who don't know me personally, my name is Virginia and I'm a candy addict. Once I ate two pounds of Jelly Belly jellybeans in a 24-hour period. I only stopped because my supplier ran out. I literally had withdrawls.

So into the side pocket of my carry-on I shoved anything I might need mid-flight: a book, a handful of miniature Reeses' peanut butter cups, a granola bar, an apple, a bottle of water, a map of Dulles airport and two magazines. Keep in mind this flight is only an hour long. Yes, I am ridiculous. It's a good thing I don't have to travel for work often, because I just wouldn't make it in the shark-infested waters of regular business travellers. They'd eat me for lunch. I'd be airport roadkill.

After lugging my stuff across a very very hot parking lot into the airport, it was eventually time for my flight. As I'm boarding the plane, I found out that my carry-on had to be checked. Apparently, this particular plane was smaller than most. So I had to scramble around and dig out something to read and eat at the last minute. Carrying a magazine, the water and the apple, I settled into my seat. Although I was pretty annoyed about having to check my bag, it was a minor inconvenience which I quickly forgot as soon as I saw my seatmate. He was cute, friendly, single....and sitting right next to me! If this was flying the friendly skies, I need to start cashing in my frequent flier miles!

We began talking and flirting. We had a lot in common and there was some chemistry. He was visiting family in Ohio and had a couple hours between flights in Dulles. I told him my brother was picking me up at the airport, but since it was Friday rush hour, I was expecting to have a little bit of time to kill as well. Right before we got off the plane, he said he was going to go grab a beer at the airport bar and invited me to go too. I said I'd love to. I grabbed my stuff and stepped off the plane to meet back up with him. He took one look at me and said, "Hey, have you been eating chocolate?" Puzzled, I said I hadn't. He said, "Well, then what's all over your shirt?" I looked down. There was chocolate ALL OVER my shirt. It was one of my favorite shirts to boot. Dang it! How did this happen?? Then I realized. The magazine I had been carrying had gotten some of the melted candy on the back cover and when I grabbed my stuff, I managed to smear it all over myself. Fabulous. I hastily dug around in my suitcase for a jacket to throw on over it. When I looked up, the cute guy was gone! And there I was, with sticky chocolate all over me, literally wearing my addiction. It had finally caught up with me.