Thursday, September 23, 2010

This week needs one big earaser

If you are in the need for a good luck charm; go to the nearest gas station and buy a purple rabbit’s foot keychain. You should also stay as far away from me as possible.

I need to find a rabbit with 20 purple feet and carry him in my suitcase. Sitting with the same obnoxious man on two flights in a row was a bite of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting compared to the rest of my week. It scares me to death that it is only Wednesday. I think that a time stamped list of events will help express this week’s horror.

Monday 1:15 AM- Plane lands in Boston

Monday 1:30 am- I discover that my luggage has decided not to join me in Boston and instead vacation in Charlotte, NC with all of my work clothing, hairbrush, makeup, and day planner.

Monday 1:31am- Freak out and whisper every word that my father wouldn’t approve of. Every. Single. One.

Monday 1:41am- Calm down and realize that I tend to overreact from time to time. Everything in the bag is replaceable except for the damn day planner that has all of my contact numbers, addresses, appointment times etc.

Monday 1:42 am Fill out missing bag paper work. Still want to nap

Monday 2 am- get lost in Boston because my GPS has decided to seek revenge for all of the times I have referred to her as “bitch in a box” and pretend not to recognize any of the roads in the city. I have new names for her now. Again, Dad would not approve.

Monday 3:30 am- check into hotel

Monday 3:31 am- Thank myself for reviewing my planner before packing it and remember what High schools I am visiting for Monday. I can call the office to get the times for the rest of the week if my bag doesn’t show up.

Monday 6 am – go to walmart to find an ugly frumpy black skirt so that I don’t have to go to my first meeting in sweats. I had to set up for a morning fair at 8:45am and nothing else was open. Great.

Monday 8:45am – Show up to morning college fair. There are 10-12 other counselors walking into the building with me . When we get into the building that guidance director apologizes. They had been getting RSVPs all summer to a college fair at their HS that they knew nothing about. I obviously could not show them my invite because it was still enjoying the southern sunshine, but one of the other counselors had his on hand. The Invite had this high school’s name, address, and phone number, but school had no idea where it came from. Thank goodness the fair had not asked for a participation fee. Although I think that makes it even more weird. The guidance staff was very nice though and met with each of the Admissions counselors individually.

Monday 1pm: High school visit. Nothing worth reporting.

Monday 2 pm: Get a call from God at Boston Airport. They have my bag.

Monday 2:01PM- victory dance.

Monday 3PM: arrive at airport. Get bag. Zipper is jammed…open. Nothing has fallen out.. except for my day planner.

Monday 3:01 Freak out and fill out missing property paperwork. I felt stupid filling out that the financial value of the missing item(s) totaled to about $8. I was suuure that it would become their top priority.

Monday 3:30- decided to take matters into my own hands. I researched numbers for the Lynchburg airport and the Charlotte airport. I figured that if my daIy planner was ever going to be found, it would have already happened and been turned in. I called Charlotte airport first. Talked to a very friendly Man, Nathan.

Monday 3:31- Nathan checks the lost and found box and finds my day planner.

Monday 3:32- I confess my love to Nathan. Nathan laughs and fills out my contact information in the front of my planner, offers to send it to me in the mail, and read me aloud all of the visits that I had scheduled for the week.

Monday 8:30- Call parents to tell them that my day planner is being mailed to their house. Dad tells me that my beautiful sister was in a pretty bad car accident earlier that day. She is okay, but my heart strings get tied into knots

Tuesday 8:30 am – GPS charger breaks

Tuesday 10am- GPS dies and I get lost in East bum fuck, NY

Tuesaday 10:01 am- dad reads me directions out of EBF,NY to my high school and then to Best BUY

Tuesday 7pm- College fair in CT=0 interest cards.

I have decided that when this week is over, I am going to just pretend that it never happened. I may even rip this whole week out of my day planner, that is of course if I ever see my day planner again.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Good luck, Jerry

I like to talk to people on planes. In the past few years I have talked to single moms about their rebellious pre-teens, reviewed a wedding album with a jealous sister, and listened to a old man recite an impressive list of facts about roller coasters. Last Sunday though, I was just not in the mood. It had been a long weekend and all I wanted to do was take a nap. I was thrilled that I would be in a plane where there was really nothing that I could do BUT sleep. I could take a nice long nap without feeling guilty.

As I walked through Lynchburg security, I was greeted by one of the most obnoxious men I have met in real life. He was just one of those people who just assumes that everyone around them wants to hear about their jobs, about their daughter’s report cards, and about the bad case of acne that they had when they were 13. Normally, I would have been delighted to hear his life story, but Sunday I was only able to force polite head nods in his general direction and count the minutes until I would be able to sit in the plane and escape his chatter. I should have known that I wouldn’t be that lucky.

When I got on the plane, I saw that I was assigned to sit next to Sir Chatterbox and was temped to turn around and start walking to Boston. After deciding that if I was too tired to hold a conversation with a stranger that I was also too tired to walk 500 miles, I sat down and prepared myself for the longest 50 minute plane ride known to mankind. I listen to him ramble about his cable bill, about his boss, about visit to the dentist the previous Wednesday. When the plane finally landed, I politely wished him safe travels to his final destination and darted out off the plane like I was an IBS patient in search for a bathroom. I needed to escape before sir chatter had the chance ask me if I wanted to continue our conversation over coffee.

I go straight to the terminal, playing and winning my sidewalk race. I throw my body into one of the sticky plastic chairs infront of my gate and sigh loudly with great relief and confidence that I escaped my predator, sir chatterbox. I imagine that my feelings closely resembled those of jerry the mouse every time he escaped Tom the cat. I send the next hour watching season four of Dexter, which is a blog for a later time. The USAIRWAYS woman comes on the intercom.
Flight Delay.

Flight Delayed again.

And again.


Finally, after what felt like eternity, I boarded my final plane of the evening to Boston . Nap time? I wish. As I find my seat, I realize that I had never asked Sir Chatterbox where he was traveling. I know now that he too was traveling to Boston…. in the seat directly across the aisle from me. He was so glad that we could continue our conversation right where we left off.

Tom the chatty cat:1

Jerry the sleep/cranky mouse:0

Friday, September 17, 2010


There is an awkward convention at the Philly airport today and naturally I attended. Today I have seen women in ball gowns, a handful of large teenagers in small amounts of clothing. I have listened to a young child cry because he father refused to let her to eat pizza at 9am and I watched two separate men trip when they tried to escape the moving side walk. There also seems to be a strong bald population traveling today. I remember Mr. clean fondly. I love airports, the opportunities for people watching seem to be endless.

Sometimes I wonder if people are watching me to. I suppose its not a far fetched idea to think that a stranger may be telling her friends about something silly I have done in public. Maybe I am even in someone’s blog somewhere.

I have a game that I like to play in airports. I suppose that it is more of a race than a game but I often keep score, so I think that it counts.

I never use the moving sidewalks. Even if I am late. It never fails that I get stuck behind someone who either is standing completely still or walks slower than I would like and I felt like I could get to my terminal fast if I just walked at a brisk speed. I also had a bad experience involving a moving sidewalk last year and I am a little nervous about giving them another try.
How does this qualify as a game or a race? Allow me to tell you.

There are always people on the moving sidewalks. They are never completely empty. When people are stepping onto the sidewalk as I walk past the entrance, I use this area as the starting line. I make it a goal to walk fast enough, and dodge child and stroller obstacles so that I can beat my unknowing competitor to the end of the side walk. Sometimes when people are walking slowly and I feel like beating them to my finish line is no great accomplishment, I change the rules. Instead of racing one single stranger, I make a goal to pass as many people as possible on the moving sidewalk. Today for example I was able to pass 10 lazy strangers. Happy Birthday victory to me.

I will write more later about the friends that I made on the airplane today, but I am about to board the plane to Lynchburg!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Madonna and the bald communist

I need to be better about blogging every day. In order to back track and review the important events of the days I missed writing, I think that a list will be the most effective and efficient. If use of the word penis offends you, stop reading now. I use it once in this blog. You may also want to check out

1. On Tuesday I thought I was going to have to shave my head. Madonna and I were singing in perfect harmony in the car when my gum grew wings and flew into my hair. Although I often joke about shaving my head to eliminate the need to remember to pack a hairbrush, I don’t know how well I could pull off the bald look. Mr. Clean had a very smooth and nicely shaped scalp and I am not convinced that I am that fortunate. What if I have a mole shaped as a toilet or a penis on the top of my head and I just never knew about it? That would be embarrassing to say the least. I decided that I needed to make a serious effort to remove myself from this sticky situation without the use of scissors or razor blade.

Unfortunately since I was in the car without the proper tools and since I was dangerously close to being late to my next visit, I had to put my one-woman crisis management efforts on hold. However, I also knew that I could not let the guidance counselors at my visit know that there was a wad of gum in my hair. Thankfully the flying gum landed in some of the under layers on my mane. I pull the gum wrapper out of the cup holder, and wrapped it lightly around the gum that was molesting my hair. The last thing I needed for the gum to infect other pieces of my head. I was able to hide the infected area for the duration of the visit and the gum was later removed with peanut butter and a little bit of olive oil. I wonder if this had ever happened to Madonna.

2. Sometimes I wonder if P. Diddy wakes up in the morning feeling like Erin Storrs. For his sake, I hope it happens at least once.

3. Until Wednesday I was a little concerned that strange things stopped happening to me as soon as I started to blog. I went almost 3 days with out anything bizarre happening and life was abnormally normal. Wednesday was my first college fair of the season and the high school students didn’t let down. My favorite encounter of the evening involved a lovely girl curious about out communications program. I think that direct quotes are necessary. Please read the following dialog.

Genius High School student: “ So… have a Communication Major”
Me: “ Yes we do! Communication is actually one of LC’s top five majors. Very strong program”
Long pause as a look of confusion took over the girls face.
Genius High school student: “So… does that have to do with like… communism?”

Congratulations. You just made it into my book of quotes

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Mr. Clean is kind of a jerk

This week I came to the realization that I should never, under any circumstance, marry a bald man. Although the idea of being legally bound to a shiny mirror to admire my own reflection in thrills me, I l also recognize that my level of productivity would fall faster than humpty dumpty.
On Sunday evening, as I found my seat in the back of the airplane traveling to Charlotte, I had only one mission. I was going to finish reading a book that I have been nursing for over a year. When I approached seat 12 A, I sat down, fastened my seatbelt, and cracked open my novel. Little did I know that within a matter of minutes my hopes and dreams of finishing my book were going to be crushed by a bag of pretzels and a razor blade.
When the man directly in front of me settled into his seat, I took a moment to admire his bald head and smiled as I compared him to Mr. Clean. Just as I was about to lower my face back into my book, Mr. Clean slighty turns his bald head and I am able to see his scalp wrinkle. It was amazing. With every movement of his neck, I watched the exposed skin shift. When he chewed his complimentary pretzels, I watched the veins in the back of his head wiggle. I was completely mesmerized.
I found myself plotting ways to touch his baldness and making it look like an accident. I brainstormed through take off, through the safety announcements, and through the warm water that the flight attendant so kindly offered me. It just looked so smooth and the skin seemed so thin and I really just wanted to make it wrinkle with my fingertips.
I had finally decided that when the pilot turned off the fasten seatbelt sign, I was going to stand up as soon as possible and use the headrest of the seat in front of me for support. As I wrapped my fingers around the seat, I was going to accidently grace my fingertips across his head and then quickly apologize for invading his space so carelessly.
It was not until the attendant came on the radio to prepare the flight for landing that I realized that I had only read 5 pages of my book during the 50 minute flight. I should have been disappointed with myself for being so easily distracted but I was still too caught up with my plan of attack to care.
As the plane pulled up to the gate I hear Mr. Clean say to his neighbor, “ I actually just moved here from Vermont”. Naturally, I had no choice but to tell him with excess enthusiasm that I too hailed from the great green mountain state and now residing in central, VA. I was hoping that this connection would instantly bond us and that by the time we unloaded the plane, we would be established BFF and that I could just touch his head without judgment.
Fail. Mr. Clean was not at all impressed about our common link and made a few comments about how people living in the greater Burlington area don’t really count as true Vermonters. I was bummed because. A) the man that I wasted so much time watching turned out to be an asshole. B) I was certain that I was not going to be able to touch his bald head and C) I never finished that damn book.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Ready, set, blast off!

My name is Erin and I am a real life, walking, talking, and breathing magnet of outrageously awkward situations. Although it would be sensible to tell you that I do my very best to dodge said awkward encounters, it would also be a lie. I thrive in awkward situations and from time to time I have found myself making awkward situations more awkward, simply for the sake of an entertaining story for my friends and family.
As a College Admissions Counselor I spend a great deal of my time traveling throughout the country trying to make students and their families fall in love with the idea of going to LC. High School students are Petri dishes for awkwardness and when combined with my own oddities, the stories are always epic.
Travel season started this week and I have decided to create a be blog of my travels and adventures. Please be prepared to read about the friends I make on the airplane and on the street. Get ready to hear me vent about the mean man at the car rental center. Brace yourself for comma splices and spelling errors and be ready for what I hope turns into some very entertaining reading!