“Sir, I’m going to need something more specific,” the overly cantankerous woman standing behind the Southwest Airlines counter told me. It was the third time she said it.
I gave her a look back that said, “you are ruining all of our fun and I sincerely hope a leper comes through the line and sneezes on you right now.”
The Farmer’s daughter and I had a plan. Show up at the airport with no specific destination in mind and go wherever the last-minute tickets were the cheapest. Instead we were met by cold stares and lots of annoyed “we don’t do that here” statements from airline employees.
The best we did get (and only because she wanted to get rid of us so badly) was a “go to our website and pray for something that’s not double the fifth quadrant of the exponential quotient of full price.” And so, very much annoyed ourselves that no one would help us out, we plopped down against the wall, tapped into the airport wi-if on my laptop and started searching.
After thirty minutes we were unsuccessful finding any sites that would give us last minute deals for the same day and at a loss we finally went to the departure screens, took photos with our phones, and then proceeded with the daunting task of looking up each flight one by one. I promise you, trimming your neck hair with a weed whacker would have been more fun.
We made a list of every possible flight. There were only two that weren’t priced out by Satan himself or on the 2 am flight to heaven knows where. Denver. And Seattle.
So, we flipped a coin (yes there’s an app for that) and $1200 (cough cough, really?!) later we were booked and headed to…
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