That’s what I have, apparently. And although I am affronted by the notion that I am a beginner (I’m not some country boy stepping onto a plane for the first time going “golly gee, you think this thing can fly?”) I will take any luck that I can get.
It started when my terminal, randomly separate from all of the other international airlines, was the same as my Dad’s, who had a separate flight out from O’Hare at the same time. Score one for Andrew. Then the stakes rose as my luck did. My extra cheap ticket (compliments of statravel.com) only accounted for one bag, meaning that the second I had packed would cost an extra $70. Oh no-es!
Thankfully, I was blessed by both a faulty credit card machine and a magnanimous airline employee who discreetly waved me through. Score 70 for Andrew! Now I sit in the airport with very little to do, hoping that my ten hour flight feels more like a ten minute flight, so I can get this adventure going.