Apologies in advance for how rambly/incoherent/probably frantic I’m sure this post is going to sound.
You see, I’m currently sitting in an abandoned gate somewhere in the Frankfurt airport. If you’ve ever had the blessing of visiting this vonderfool establishment populated only by security and a few lost Asians all wearing matching t-shirts (and walking at -.2 mph I might add, ugh), you understand my pain. After about 20 years of being the connecting stop for basically all my flights, the Frankfurt airport, for all the free coffee it offers served in tiny cups suitable only for Dobby the house elf, has come to be equated in my mind to the pits of hell. My brother almost got detained here (long story), everything is so goddamn sterile, and I frequently seem to be the only person sitting in an entire terminal. Celine Dion’s All By Myself could be dedicated to my plight in this airport.
The fact that I am currently freaking the FUCK out probably doesn’t help my mood right now either; I honestly cannot comprehend that in a few short hours I will be in Lyon, frantically looking for a man named Raissi who is supposed to come get me via taxi and bring me to a hotel. If I do not find this Raissi I will be in deep shit and might just have to move into the airport because there is certainly no way I am successfully navigating the streets of France with 2.5 suitcases the size of my little brother, zero hours of sleep, and a rapidly dwindling ability to speak French.
Maybe I’ll just give up the French university and become a gypsy. I can sell all my clothes for baguette money and sit on street corners in my harem pants singing sad Celine Dion songs and harassing tourists for money.
Tbh that plan is a lot more solid than my actual plan, which is at this point more of a series of ideas than a concrete plan at all.
Obviously I am not taking this move well. I need a pizza.
Anyway, this is my travel outfit. I am IN LOVE with these slip ons with a basket pattern and always wear them travelling because of how easy they are when you have to take off your shoes and all your belongings to go through TSA. I want to amend my earlier statement: the line to get to TSA is in fact the actual pits of hell. I would take hours stuck in Frankfurt over 15 minutes in line watching the same damn slideshow play about the dangers of liquids over 3 oz.
Since I’ve been flying since I was 2 months old, I like to think I have my airport routine and everything that comes with it (IE throwing everything in a suitcase and grabbing a suitable outfit in under 2 hours) down. The key to a good travel outfit is- get ready for some serious groundbreaking wisdom- layering. Which I’m sure is no news to anyone, and if it is, maybe you should stick to UGGS, leggings, and a sweatshirt because hope is lost on you anyways.
By the way, that’s the easiest way to spot Americans at an airport. It’s like their uniform.
In addition to this tank and sweater, I also carried a large printed scarf that could double as a blanket on the plane. You could pay me all the peanut butter in the world and I would still not touch those blankets airlines give you with a 10 foot pole. They look and smell like they were retrieved off a dead hobo.
If I ever find Raisi. #prayforelly
Sweater- H&M//Tank-Aeropostale//Boyfriend jeans- Target// Slip-ons- Marshall//Watch- LouLou//Obnoxiously round sunglasses- Nordstrom