why "i travel for work" sounds better than it is

1. You sometimes are ill-prepared for weather. You try to be prepared. You look, say, Sunday night while you are packing to see what the forecast is for the week ahead. It says the lowest high is 68. Not bad. You take a light jacket. The lowest high ends up being about 25 degrees colder than that with a wind chill in the teens/low twenties. You wake up in the morning and it is below freezing. There is ice on your windshield. You wish you had gloves.

2. You forget (Honestly! See #3 for reason why...) to remove small make-up bag from purse. You usually put it in the checked luggage, you really do. You know lip gloss and liquid foundation are contraband. You know someone somewhere knows how to combine those two items (or identical looking items) with some spit and maybe a paper clip to do some real damage on a plane. You ignore your oversight and hope security is lax. It isn't. You can't send these two small items through security on their own without being safely secured in a tiny, resealable plastic bag. You wonder how tiny, resealable plastic bag keeps aforementioned "someone somewhere" from doing aforementioned "real damage." You throw items away. Sigh...

3. You sometimes cannot find a gas station near the airport. Rental car places charge you about $9 million, your right pinkie toe, and your first born child if you return the car less than full. You think your credit card limit is less than $9 million, you kinda like your toes where they are, and you'd like to keep your first child if, God willing, you actually find someone who is interested in knocking you up. You turn back around, now going away from the airport, in search of fuel. You finally find a gas station. You get out to pay at the pump. Slide your card. It asks for your zip code. NONE of the number buttons work. You can't even enter a wrong zip code. You think your quest for gas may actually cause you to miss your flight. You become frustrated. You are tired of being cold, clad in your inadequate, thin jacket. Why won't the buttons work?!?! You can't even cancel the transaction to pay inside. You ponder switching pumps about the time another car drives up next to yours. A seemingly able-bodied, 30-something, kinda dirty man gets out and says, "When you finish punching in those numbers, will you help me open my gas tank?" Huh? In a frustrated but not rude manner you reply that you may never finish punching the buttons as they are not working. Even though you are a relatively kind, helpful person you do not want to help this guy because it seems fishy. Your momma didn't raise no fool. You continue to try to get any button to work, even the last-resort clerk button. Meanwhile, strange guy asks guy on other side to help with gas tank. Guy on other side does not speak English as his first language and makes no attempt to help. Super freakin' lunatic guy then starts his rant. Ranting about Jesus and Satan and how the world is and how it should be and how you're a whore and are basically going to Hell yada yada. You do not turn around to face him. You do not ask him why many crazy people bring up Jesus. You do not ask how he deduced that you were a Hell-bound whore. You politely say "thank you," all the while frantically pushing buttons. Lunatic finishes up rant, gets in car, and peels off. You and other normal guy exchange words and feel a little relieved that you were not shot or stabbed or punched or rammed with a beat-up car.