I was in Philadelphia over Labor Day weekend. In order for me to get home in time to meet the Princess's flight from Portland, I had to leave pretty early in the morning on Monday. So I booked an 8 AM flight out of Philly, which left me with more than enough time to get back to San Francisco.
Of course, since I had to leave so early, it didn't make any sense to actually - you know - sleep, so the Boy and I spent Sunday night in Atlantic City. And when I say "spent Sunday night" I don't actually mean booked a room and slept. I mean we played craps, had dinner, drove go-carts, played skeeball and walked around aimlessly until about 3 in the morning. The Boy even won a pig/cow thing for me by throwing darts at balloons as hard as humanly possible. I was glad to see that all those years of training had finally paid off.
I had never been to AC. It's fun, in a "I really don't want to come here a lot but it's kind of entertaining once in a while" kind of way.
Pig/Cow came to dinner with us at Buddakan
The Boy took this picture. And since he's not here to defend himself, I can tell you that I totally kicked his ass and lapped him at least once.
Caesar's was a little excited about Boardwalk Empire
We also saw the best sign EVER on an ATM in Caesar's that said "We're sorry, this game is out of order". I wanted so badly to take a picture of it, but I was afraid that if I took a picture inside of the actual casino, the cast of the Sopranos would come out of nowhere and kick my ass.
We drove back to Philly, I picked up my stuff and went to the airport.
And it was EARLY. And I was tired. I dragged my tired ass through security (without setting off the scanners...go figure) and went in search of some breakfast.
I found a Le Petit Bistro, ordered my food and got in line to pay.
You know how when somebody breaches your personal space, your radar goes off and you shift your position to put more space between yourself and the offender? This is exactly what happened to me in line. I felt a woman move right up - and I mean RIGHT UP - behind me. So I moved forward as much as I could without invading the space of the person in front of me.
And then she moved forward too. She's yelling to her husband across the room, grabbing drinks, reaching around me for silverware...all of it IN MY SPACE.
Now I'm irritated.
I move up as far as I can to the cashier to pay.
Me: Lady, BACK OFF!
Lady: What?! I don't touch you.
Me: Lady, you imprinted your boobs in my back. I can tell you your bra size.
Lady: ((huffy silence))
Thankfully, she wasn't on my flight.
And I'm still not sure if I should feel amused or violated. Or maybe both.
Regardless, I have decided that (1) I definitely need a break from the general population; and (2) on future flights I need to wear the sharpest Madonna-like bra possible in order to properly defend myself from this situation in the future.
It might even be worth setting off the security scanners.