A Scrappy Arrival

Someone dropped something.

After a recent long day of flying my wings off to Philadelphia, the hotel shuttle took me and my fight crew to our modest home-sweet-hotel for the evening. As we unloaded the shuttle and grabbed each of our identical black bags, I saw a small piece of paper on the ground. This is a detail from my day I shouldn't remember, but the shuttle driver made sure I did.

As we gathered our feathers and belongings from the curb, the driver started hollering, "White receipt on the ground! White receipt on the ground!" I glanced at the sidewalk and saw it. There was a slim chance it was mine, I was aware. But I didn't care enough to find out. In the scheme of my day after 10 hours of flying, it just didn't matter.

Changing the World One Trash Can At a Time

fond memories.

It feels good to make a difference. Nearly 3 years later, the strange gods of fate and misfortune brought me back to a previous Hens on Ice hotel. Hello again, Ontario! I flew back for a shorter, skate-less stay without my posse.

I didn't realize how many tour memories I had in this dusty California town until I flapped back to this non-descript hotel. Last time, our boss visited and I told her I'd be quitting the ice show (unsuccessful). I kidnapped 2 of my friends for an epic day trip to the decrepit Salton Sea (gross). My BFF and I wore matching outfits (miss him). I got drunk by the pool with my hen friends (again). But most importantly, I pushed for change at this hotel.