<3 minutes to whine>

Well, it's the day before Nationals is going to start, and I have no access to the Intarweb. I can't believe how frustrating this moment is. My phone died a horrible death, and is in an infinite reboot, and won't connect to the phone network when I contort, pray to the phone gods and offer a sim sacrifice to get it to start. So, no phone web access. No wireless access at the condos. The nearest Starbucks is 10 miles away, and everyone glares at me when I ask if anyone wants to go. I'm jones'n for a connection!

Sigh.

<end whine>

Sharon and Kimber used to have timed whine sessions. If one of them started to complain incessantly, the other would say "three minutes" and start counting down the time. The other would then have exactly three minutes to get as much whining out of the way as she could until her time was up. Then, no more complaining, no more whining.

Kris tried it with me once. I immediately began speaking very quickly, and managed to complain about everything from my left foot to the state of world hunger to the fact I did all the clothes washing even though he did all the folding and couldn't he just do all the laundry even though he cleans the bathrooms, too, and I haven't cleaned a bathroom in six years. Please?

I didn't use up my three minutes - ended up laughing too hard while trying to complain about absolutely everything before my three minutes were up.

I find the fact that the longer the wait in line, the closer the people in line squish together.

I'm here in line at the airline "customer service center," hoping to change my returning ticket from Tampa from a Monday ticket to Denver to a Sunday ticket to San Jose with Kris and Heidi. My original ticket was three one way tickets, San Jose to Tampa to Denver to San Jose, the last flight being at the end of next week, the middle flight being at the beginning of next week.

When I called to change my flights two weeks ago, I was told the cost was about $200 to change the tickets: $100 for the ticket price differential, and $100 for the change fee. When I explained my two one way tickets were $50 more expensive than the one-way I was trying to get, according to the prices published online on their website, I was told I would need to purchase a full roundtrip ticket, that they would not (note the wording - would not, not could not) change out the two (more expensive) one ways for a new, single one way.

And Kris wonders why I hate flying any other airline than Southwest. Sure, you have to deal with the first come-first seated, cattle car type of boarding, but at least you don't have to pay for a ticket three times over in a completely messed up way.

So, I'm standing here, hoping to be able to change my ticket for just the $100 change fee. As I'm standing here, having been waiting for ten minutes in this line, the people behind me have been slowly creeping up on me. They were originally standing what I would consider a reasonable personal space distance. As the line hasn't moved (I'm first in line, and they haven't started helping me yet), they've started moving closer and closer to me.

Like moving closer to me is going to get the line moving.

Now, instead of having one woman two feet behind me, I have six women all crowded less than four feet behind me.

Good lord, people, step back!

On our way to Nationals. The flight takes off at 9:05 this morning. We'll see how well this travelling goes. :\ I hate flying.

Heh.

I'm in the Nationals player program three times.

First, as a UPA staff member:
On the roster:	In our team history:

Whoo!

At some point, I'm going to have more content (as in total number of posts, who knows about the total number of characters) than the UPA site. Doyle thinks I'm crazy for even caring.

Spent pretty much the whole day getting things organized to leave for Nationals (er, the Ultimate Players Association Club Championships) tomorrow. Kris managed, without costing us a $100 change fee, to move our flights from today at 6:20am to tomorrow at 9:05am. Early, but not painful. Surely I can get up at 7:00am.

Uh... yeah.

I am, oddly enough, not nervous about the tournament. My lack of nervousness may be due to distance: I'm not in Florida yet. Or the fact that the last day before a vacation is always ridiculously full of last-minute (last-second?) things to do before we leave. Laundry, clean the kitchen, buy $100 worth of gu and clif shots, clean the bathrooms, pay the bills, move the car into the garage, buy shorts for everyone on the team for the third time, run to the bank, hand off the house key, print up the Dummy's Guide to Krikitt Downs, show the house sitter where the dog food is, finish up client projects, prep the computer for offline development, backup the travelling computer, and think, "Oh. Em. Gee. I'm going to Nationals!"

At this point, I'm almost all packed and ready to go. I'm one underwear short of being completely packed. And that's the pair that goes into the carry-on with the cleats and red jersey, in case my bag is, uh, diverted to St. Louis.

Come on, laundry!