at 4:03 am

If I tell you what happened to me last wednesday at exactly 4:03 am, you'd probably laugh, or call me stupid. Believe me, I won't take offense because I've called myself even worse names than that. Dumb, idiot, moron... wait they actually mean the same thing. But you get my point.

Nope, I didn't wake up at the butt crack of dawn and found myself in bed with a naked stranger (although, that would be kind of exciting and kinky especially if the stranger looked somewhat like Josh Hartnett). Nope, I did not splurge on a pair of Blahniks and developed a conscience at 4:03 am because: 1) I can't afford it; 2) I don't have a conscience; and 3) I can't afford to have a conscience. And no, I did not overdose on Tylenol PM, ended up in the ER at 4:03 am and found myself falling in love with the attending physician Grey's Anatomy style.

Last wednesday, at 4:03 am, I literally bolted out of bed because -- I realized that I missed my freaking flight! I knew something was off when I went to bed, but I thought it was just the thought of 20 hours or so of flying that was bothering me. How can this happen, you ask? Well, if you're me, at my current state (depressed, lonely, angry) this could actually happen. I don't want to go into the nitty gritty of this most stupid of mistakes, but bottomline is, I mixed up the dates and the check in time. In short, I was one day late. I didn't even have to go to the airport. Imagine going all the way to JFK only to realize that the plane I was supposed to be taking has already left the night before! That would have made it worse!

Go ahead, laugh. I actually find it funny now, but last wednesday at 4:03 am, it was not funny at all. I didn't cry, I actually howled -- in agony and deep frustration.

I've never missed a flight in my life. Never. This was a first. Hey, a smart girl like me is entitled to some act of idiocy once in a while, right? Gimme a break!