Diary of a Danceaholic

Entry #8: It's Go Time

We were running very late for our flight to Florida. My mom insisted on redoing my headpiece for the third time and we couldn’t leave until the glue dried.

“I’m not packing it into the suitcase with wet glue, Skyler.”

“If we miss our flight, then it won’t matter anyway. I’ll carry the stupid thing in my lap, Mom, let’s just go!” I rolled my bag out into the hallway of our apartment building waiting impatiently for my mom to follow.

The Uber driver dropped us off to an airport packed full of travelers. It was going to be a long day.

Armed with my fully charged iPod and a really good audiobook about a magical world, I was ready to endure the long flight across the country.

Why does it have to be so humid here?” I complained loudly to my mom as soon as we exited the Florida airport. “I feel like I can’t even take a deep breath.”

“Oh, stop your whining, sweetie. We’ll be at our airconditioned hotel room in just a few minutes.”

“Is the pool outside or inside?”

“We’re in Florida, honey, all the pools are outside.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I’m going to sweat to death. It’s official. This is how I die.”

“You are too much,” my mom said rolling her eyes at me.