Kathleen's Blog

**Airport Adventures: Trying to Get Back to Vail**

**First Stop:** Gate C17. Flight delayed 45 minutes. I can do this. I’m a strong, independent traveler who doesn’t need Auntie Anne’s carbs. I have the willpower of a monk. A pretzel-hating monk.

**Next:** Moved to Gate A29. Cool, cool, cool. That’s literally across the entire airport. This is fine. At least all this walking burns calories, which means technically I’ve EARNED a pretzel. Wait, no. That’s pretzel logic. I will not fall for pretzel logic about pretzels. I’m better than this.

**What Now:** Back to Gate C17??? THE SAME GATE. The universe is personally testing me. Just walked past Auntie Anne’s twice—once in each direction like some kind of butter-scented gauntlet. Made aggressive eye contact with the cinnamon sugar bites. Looked away first. I’m losing this battle.

**New Gate:** B6. Of course there’s an Auntie Anne’s between me and B6. Of COURSE there is. This is psychological warfare. I can smell the butter from 100 feet away. My willpower is a wet paper bag in a rainstorm. I’m one gate change away from complete collapse.

**Travel Drama Continues:** Delayed AGAIN. A man just walked by with a cup of pretzel bites and I audibly whimpered. The gate agent looked up and asked if I was okay. No, Linda, I’m NOT okay. I’m being held hostage by airport infrastructure and the siren call of processed dough. Send help. Or don’t. I’m beyond saving.

**HELP!:** I have circled DFW so many times I’m basically a DFW resident now. I’ve seen the same Auntie Anne’s employee THREE times and she KNOWS. She can smell my weakness like a shark smells blood. We’ve made eye contact. It’s over.

**FINAL UPDATE:** Bought the pretzel bites. Zero regrets. Actually, that’s a lie—my only regret is not buying them sooner. We’re NOW boarding from Gate B9 (naturally). I’ve accepted my fate. Accountability is important. This was not my fault.