Delta... you are FIRED.

1. Nicolette should never fly before 2PM.
2. Penn Station should be a child-free zone.
3. Delta needs to be fired.

What made me think I could wake up at 9AM on 3 hours of sleep? No idea. Woke up late, 0 Starbucks, ran to Penn Station, just in time. NOT. When the lady at the front desk told me to go to track 7... I thought she meant track 7, but apparently it is CODE for "I have no effing idea so I'm just going to throw a number out there." Track 7 was not headed to Newark Airport; "Not even close" as the train dude confirmed. So, missed my train. Next step was to stare at a large screen until my track popped up next to "TWD" or some shit. Instead of "Newark Airport," New Jersey Transit thought it would be cute to put 3 random letters next to the train stop to signify the airport stop. Brilliant. So I'm standing in the middle of Penn Station, almost in tears and someone drags their child past me as the thing is screaming... ew. I have never wanted to hurt a child more in my life. Gross. Why must I be subject to such torture. My train popped up, I ran to the track, got there just in time and was on my way to Newark airport.... late, as in I might miss my plane late. Yeah. FML.

So I get to the tram at Newark airport and of course, have to ride the tram to the very last terminal. Once out, I ran as fast as I could, dragging my suitcase behind me. EVERY possible extra step I could have taken... I did. So convenient. The delta people were no help. AT ALL. But I somehow made it to my gate with 3.5 minutes to spare only to find out that my flight had been delayed an hour. Perfect. So now I was sitting waiting and couldn't go get Starbucks for fear that my plane would leave without me. Finally on the plane, we sat for another hour. Ha. It was awesome.

Flight = FING TERRIBLE. Child, sitting behind me. Kicking seat. Not the worst part. I was quietly taking a nap... minding my own business and this alien goblin child reaches through the seats and touches my arm. WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD THAT EVER BE OKAY?! No. I was done. I was ready to hop back on a plane to New York.

In Atlanta... still stuck on plane. Connecting flight leaves in 11 minutes. I push past first class not without scolding. An old man decided to mumble to me.. "Calm down." Bad idea. I made sure he clearly understood why I was in a hurry and why he should probably not comment on my hasty movements again. Plane door opens. 7 minutes til my flight TAKES OFF. AWESOME. I don't think I could have run faster if I was hoping for the gold medal in the Olympics. I got to my gate and they were still there... and it was delayed, 20 minutes. Perfect... FOOD. Vending machine 20 yards away and back. Doors closed. Tears fall. I'm yelling at onlooking civilians, questioning the Delta people, pleading them to let me on, called my mom and cried to her. I was a mess. Running around the wing like a mad woman trying to get on my plane. Nope. Panic attack set in. I found a small corner, curled up and listened to Lil Wanye on my iPod. It helped.

New connecting flight. Left 6 hours later. Eventually got to De Moines. Justin was there. Made me smile for the first time that day.

Never fly Delta. They will fuck you over.

N.