Dog poop.

Even the best laid plans…

I’m not actually sure what the end of that expression is but I think it’s something like “Even the best laid plans can step in a giant pile of dog poop every once in awhile.”

Maybe that’s not it.  

To be honest, I was actually prepared for once.  Or thought I was.  I had everything packed, knew everything I needed to know, and I thought it was physically impossible for my mom to have any more tears.  I was completely wrong.

About ten minutes into my day, I realized we never had weighed the suitcase.  No worries, we can just pop that on the scale and no worries.  Using my bathroom scale, it weighed 55 pounds.  Five over the limit.  But that’s okay.  My bathroom scale is wrong about my weight all the time.  Just like every other scale with a woman living in the home.  It wasn’t wrong this time.  

But no big deal.  After all, you don’t have to diet and exercise to lose weight off of your suitcase. 

All ready to gohmygoshwhere’smyhornmouthpiece.

Pause for question: Wait, Nikki.  Why isn’t your mouthpiece with your horn?

Well there’s a very good reason for that.   I bring my mouthpiece everywhere: the movies, the park, even prom.  I’m not kidding.  What if a famous horn player walks into prom,baby blue tuxedo and all, and has a horn that they want me to play but they're missing the mouthpiece?  Huh?

My mom thinks it’s ridiculous, but I’m a teenager, you aren't supposed to understand me.  Gosh.  

After finding it in my suitcase, we have now averted two crises and it's 9am.  When we finally got to the airport, I discovered that my mother is a direct descendant of Hoover Dam.  No joke.  As soon as we saw the security line, the floodgates were released.  If she hadn't been squeezing so tightly, I'd have requested a mop.  

I usually don't have many problems going through security and this time was really no exception.  I was through in no time.  The biggest hold-up I've had with the horn is between two TSA agents trying to decide if it was an oboe or a tuba.  I told them it was a tuba.

Soon enough, we are on the plane.  Now, I did a lot of flying for college auditions and basically the rule was, once we got on the plane, we were all set.  Especially on my direct flight.  Nothing else to worry about.  Oh, how naive I was.

The airport was too busy.  We couldn't land because it was too crowded and so air traffic control had us circling.  And circling.  To top it all off, the pilot hadn't been as prepared as (I thought) I was, we had to go back to Dulles airport because we ran out of fuel and had to refuel the plane.  

We weren't allowed to get off because the captain told us that he "would leave us right there in the Dulles airport with your hamburgers in hand and a stupid expression on your face."  Word for word.  I didn't leave.  We didn't leave the people who did.

But after that, things got better.  Two hours later I made it.  And the people who had been waiting for me all this time were just as happy as I was.  We had a long car ride compounded with traffic. (I know--traffic in NYC, no way.) So the six of us got to know each other and despite the fact that we missed the NYO photo scavenger hunt, we still took three pretty good instagram pictures complete with catchy filter and all.  

And I realized something.  There's a silver lining to every dark cloud.  Sometimes, the dog poop that your best laid plans clumsily stumble into can lead you to the new shoe that you've always dreamed of.  

And then I got back to the dorm room and the ethernet wouldn't work.  

Goodbye optimism.