Funemployed Day 30: Follow your funemployment dreams

"I'm funemployed too!" - Guest 100, my Airbnb guest, who showed up just in time to motivate my future funemployed friend. 

Tl;dr: Early am flight from Charlotte to Newark (I broke all of my airport rules), chatted with my plane buddy, got back home, got locked out (not my fault), walked to the city, got my key, got inside finally, played tennis with Croatian, made dinner for a friend, and got to know Guest 100. 

Bro took me to the airport at 6am. That was nice of him, huh. 

I've been hearing that security lines are extra long this summer, since the TSA sucks. I still hope they approve me for TSA pre-check after that disparaging sentence. I think I could run airport security better. I bet the guys who run Chipotle could also do a great job running airport security. Just instead of an assembly line of rice, beans, guac, it's people. TSA could take a lesson from our favorite burrito spot. 

I acknowledge that I am not always the smartest person (just most of the time). 

I got through security just fine, with extra time to spare (phew). While I was picking my purse, shoes, and backpack off of the tray I was thinking about the time I left my passport at security in Turkey last year. That was stupid. I just left it in the tray. I noticed it was missing when I was looking for my boarding pass, which I had tucked away inside my passport. Nope. Nowhere. Shit. "Where's my passport?" (rhetorical question). After a mini panic attack, I went back to the security checkpoint. Thank baby Jesus they had it there. They made me prove my identity before I gave it back. I pointed at my face (and showed my Texas ID). That was a close call. I would make sure it didn't happen again. 

So I found my gate in Charlotte, sat down, took a load off my feet. Then I looked around, "Shit, I forgot my suitcase." Yes, that large black roller bag with all of my clothes in it. I just casually left that thing on the security belt. "YOU IDIOT!" I said to myself. I went back and it was just sitting there at the end of the belt looking pretty. "Hey Miz, it's me, your bag. Just been hanging out here while you left for 10 minutes and chilled at your gate." Then I hit my face. #facepalm 

The flight went well

It's a quick trip. I sat next to two people who had spent the night in the Charlotte airport. I made sure not to complain about being uncomfortable or tired. That would have just been insensitive. The guy next to me was so nice. He had this saga of cancelled flights on his way back from a hiking trip in Peru. As we took off I told him it was going to be like that scene in Argo, where they are chasing down the plane, except instead of guns they'd be hauling a cot in the back. I think he was amused. 

We chatted the entire flight. I don't think I've ever talked to someone for so long on a plane (except for a flight to Brazil where I split my Ambien with my seat buddy and we got kinda buzzed together). You just never know where you will meet like-minded people, do ya? I even gave him my Biscoff cookies as a token of my friendship. I love that they pass out cookies on a 7:45am flight. That's a little fucked up. Just don't feed us, American Airlines. That would be healthier. Biscoff cookies are fucking delicious though. We all know that. It used to just be a Delta thing, but looks like American finally got on board the Biscoff train (or plane). Anyways, it was a nice flight with great convo. 

The crack they serve on airplanes

The crack they serve on airplanes

Then I got back to NYC and her shit-hole transit hubs.

I used my time wisely while taking the train back from Newark and talked to my two besties on the phone, Dr. Bff and Cali girl. To update you, they are doing well. I know you were worried. I finally made it back to Williamsburg jsut in time for my phone to die. I had left my key with Croatian since I only have two copies. I wanted to make sure one was nearby in case my Airbnb guests or cleaners had any trouble while I was away. I just sat on my stoop outside and typed on my laptop while I waited for Croatian. 

He showed up with two bananas and his tennis racket. I was like, "Awesome, hi, let me go change and get my racket." "Oh shit (and some Croatian cursing), I forgot the key." Mother fucker. I thought he was kidding, because he's like that, but no. Not kidding. He lives pretty far. 

We worked it out. I used my neighbor friend's key to get inside the building and leave my bags. We got Croatian's roomy to bring the key on his way to work, where we had impeccable timing and met him underground in the subway station, where he was continuing on in one train, and we were continuing on in another. It was much more of a bitch to coordinate than this makes it out, but you don't need all the details. What you need to know is that I got my key three hours later. 

I was pooped. Even if you're pooped you can muster up some energy to play tennis. 

So we went back into the city to the West Side Highway to play tennis. We did not play on the highway. That would have been dangerous. We played on a tennis court. My legs were pretty shot after spinning them so fast the prior day, but I endured. After tennis Croatian and I parted ways. 

On the way to the subway I stopped for one of my vices.

Bubble tea. Yes, bubble tea. I fucking love that stuff. Those mushy tapioca balls lodged at the bottom of your cup. Yum. I was slurping them all the way home on the subway. I think I got some dirty looks but IDGAF (past tense). I really wish I took a selfie with my bubble tea, but I didn't. This would be the fuel to get me to dinner time. I was cooking for my future funemployed friend. She wanted to funemployment advice.

It takes guts to be funemployed by choice.

Future funemployed friend came over. We had a great meal and even better conversation. She asked me questions like, "Were your parents supportive of you quitting your job?" "Not really, but I did it anyways." (I would say they are supportive now.) Sometimes you just need some moral support, because most people are like, "Wait, what, you're quitting and you have no idea what you will do next?" 

They knew I was destined for funemployment

They knew I was destined for funemployment

She wants to take three months off. I did too. No one will tell you to do this. You just have to listen to yourself and trust that you will figure it out before you become poor and homeless. Luckily my Airbnb guest, Guest 100, arrived home just in time to join the conversation. This was our first time meeting, since I had been out of town. He was like, "Omg, I'm funemployed too!" "Omg, really?" "Yes." We commiserated about how we were feeling, our goals in life, and our lust for travel. It was great timing for my friend. She gained one more supporter of her funemployment dreams. 

What's funny to me is that people (particularly Americans) think it's crazy to take a three month break without set future plans. We live in a world of over 7 billion people. It's a huge world, with a lot to see, a lot to learn, and a shit ton of options when it comes to making a living. You are never locked in. If you feel locked in, there's still a way out. Taking three months to relax, enjoy, and reset will do more good than harm in my opinion. If you live to 80 years old, this is just 0.3% of your entire life. I plan to spend a lot more than 0.3% of my life relaxing and enjoying, because what else is there if not?

The end. 

  1. Get fuming mad because of an asshole lady on Airbnb
  2. Get coffee with a guy who works at Airbnb (unrelated to item 1)
  3. Go to Pure Barre to tuck, lengthen, and tone.
  4. Met Philly friend for happy hour
  5. Went to Philly friend's hotel
  6. Went home, made dinner, hung with Croatian and Guest 100