THURSDAY FLIGHT

Congratulations. You have a job that’s cushy enough to take Friday off with no repercussions or you’re just smart enough to tie down a solid excuse. The next step is being able to take the following Monday off, too. You’re not there yet unless you work in real estate or podcast ad sales but maybe one day. 

This probably means a late afternoon Southwest flight that you pregamed with two IPAs and then panicked through the 10,000’ ascent because you almost started the weekend off with piss-stained chinos. 

*Tangent: Did you know that Virgin Airways has an in-flight communication system? So you could hit the cute girl in seat 11C with a “how’d you get stuck next to the 6 year old whose parents refused to give him the iPad?”*

Upon landing, you’re greeted by the welcoming yet hollow tones of live music in an airport and the smell of Earl Campbell’s BBQ. Both of which you should ignore entirely given the fact that they’re soliciting folks at 4:14pm on a Thursday. In an airport. 

You take in the surroundings of a clearly renovated concourse due to the wildly unsustainable influx of property tax dollars, collect your bags, and try to coordinate with the guy (one of the groom’s college buddies) who landed 24 mins after you who insisted you wait for him in the group text. He’s nowhere to be found so you eat the $47 Uber to…