Why do they call it a carry-on if you can't carry it on?!

I love to travel. Luckily, I have friends all over the country, and world for that matter, who still enjoy my company and indulge my need to get the hell out of dodge every once in a while. I quite enjoy a good road trip, particularly when it involves a marathon sing-a-long in the car, but a lot of times my destination is just too far to drive. Enter the dreaded airlines and that great American tradition of complaining about them. The airlines have their faults, and many of them. I will be one of the first to bitch, moan, and raise a stink about the things they do wrong, but the reality is I can't get to where I'm going half the time without them. I recently took a trip where I was moved to make some observations about the joys of air travel and all that comes along with such a pleasure. Enjoy.

1. Middle-aged men inexplicably using a rolling backpacks, particularly one with the High School Musical 3 logo embroidered largely onto it.
2. Baggage handlers, who make you wish you had paid the $25 to check a bag, taking their sweet ass time getting your "carry on" from under the plane while you stand outside on the tarmac, tapping your foot, about to have a coniption because you have 30 minutes to sprint across the Charlotte airport in 4 inch wedges (what? they're too big to fit in the "carry on" and they're cute) to make your connection. 
3. Discovering that you have the same literary tastes as the 13 year old sitting next to you (I still contend that the Hunger Games is a great series. I don't care if it's YA).
4. Moving sidewalks that don't move is one of life's great ironies.
5. The questionable clothing choices some people make when traveling (notice I said clothing choices, not shoes, I don't want to hear it about my wedges). Is there a discoteque in Terminal C that I don't know about?
6. The gentle hum of a plane in flight that lulls me into the deepest of slumbers - and gives me the most fucked up dreams you can imagine. It's incredible the things my subconscious comes up with at 30,000 feet. 
7. Reading seriously awful, yet incredibly entertaining celebrity tabloids (USWeekly, Star, InTouch, OK!) and then leaving them at the gate for some other weary traveler to discover with glee.
8. Watching a really cute guy walk down the aisle, thinking maybe this time, maybe this time, only to have him pass by while Grandma, Chatty Cathy, Big Sweaty Guy or Screaming Three Year Old settles in next to you. (Or in my case last weekend - Still Drunk Guy. Swear to God he was sweating tequila)
9. Wearing multiple layers in preparation to either bundle up or strip down depending on the plane's tempestuous climate.
10. The adrenaline rush of running from one gate to another and the resulting triumphant joy of making the connection or the crushing blow of defeat upon missing it by mere seconds.
11. The disturbing, yet satisfyingly mischievous feeling of realizing you got tweezers/razor/matches/5+ oz of liquid through security.
12. People stopping in the middle of the terminal thoroughfare. Think of it like an interstate. Do you just stop in the middle of I-95 when everyone else around you is going 80? No. Don't do it in the middle of Terminal B either. As previously mentioned, frustrated travelers are literally propelling themselves toward their gate, in very tall and uncomfortable, but very cute shoes, dragging a "carry on," that they weren't actually allowed to carry on, smelling like second-hand tequila sweat, pissed that the moving sidewalk isn't moving and they will run you over. And by they, I mean me. Just test me.

Happy Flying!