Live From San Diego

In which Earlgirl shares travel mishaps, toilet tragedies and more.
So I'm here in beautiful San Diego at an ACN convention with a room full of exceedingly fun gals. It was a rocky road of traveling to get here, believe me. We had to fly in a little turbo prop airplane over a mountain range. Patty and I were snug in our seats, vibrating away to the drone of the engines, pitching up and down with turbulence, when this cute mommy with a toddler on her lap leans across the aisle and asked if we had any airsickness bags. We gladly hand her ours, and watch with curiosity. Nothing appeared to me wrong until her daughter started to retch. Remember the movie 'Stand By Me'? The 'total and complete barfa-rama' scene? We lived it. The girl covered her poor mommy. She filled mommy's shoes. She splatted the seat in front of her. Then came the smell. "Focus on the window, smell your juice!" Patty admonished me. I did, and it worked, but I don't think I've recovered yet. It was a very close call.
Then today, I was at the convention with a fresh spiral bound notebook, ready to imbibe wisdom. I took a quick trip to the potty first, and balanced my notebook on the toilet paper dispenser. You guessed it. After I stood and before I flushed, in went my notebook. It was a pitiful sight, let me tell you. There was nothing for it but to grab it by its dry corner and bid it adieu. We had a fantastic conference, and an eternal night-time walk back to the hotel fraught with danger. I arrived back at the hotel anxious for a trip to the ladies room. I had exercised my considerable powers of retention all during the long, long, long walk. It was with great relief that I was able to unburden myself. As I sat there, contemplating life and the meaning thereof, a thought struck me. I was still wearing my jacket that ties around the waist. Instead of belting it in front, I had knotted the belt behind me to a maximize the slimming effect. Just as I suspected, the ends were floating in the toilet water. Ew.
It's not my day for toilet luckiness, is it?
Don't feel too sorry for me though, I'm not cooking, cleaning, or being blamed for items my children have lost. It's all good.