You know what’s a great idea? In the midst of planning frantically for your as-yet totally unplanned, semi-solo trip to India, slam your hand in a car door.
Preferably right after you discover that the flights you had been tracking for three months inexplicably tripled overnight; and right before you were about to start sorting through your summer clothes in search of the long skirts and non-cleavage-revealing shirts you already know you don’t own. Just as you realize that, oh my god, you totally never bought any tour books, and why doesn’t the Borders on Broad Street have any, anyway – those Europe-centric travel section pricks – and is Bank of America joking when they tell you that it will take a week to get rupees, because that’s just ridiculous. And was someone seriously expecting you to spend more than seven minutes on the elliptical when you have all this packing and planning ahead of you, especially when your headphones spontaneously combusted – like actually – the second you plugged them in? Because that’s not happening. And there’s no way you’re spending a 15 hour flight without headphones, so that just got bumped to the top of you 24-item to-do list. All those prescription medications and associated malaria-fighting measures still to be picked up will just have to wait.
So, to answer your questions: yes, I am a huge klutz, yes, I currently have a bag of frozen edamame on my left middle and index fingers, and yes, I’m freaking the fuck out. But at least this time I don’t have junior prom to worry about! Just a transcontinental journey to a third-world country. Fab.
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