Sleeping at Airports

Two hours of booking flights.  Screen to screen, scribbling on notes, using both my phone and computer. I memorize the dates and the airport codes so I can switch between Kayak, Expedia, Delta, Cheaptickets, Southwest, United and Jet Blue.  When I am too tired and too bored to care, I punch in credit card numbers.  I ignore that I will have 45 minutes to sprint from the Gainesville flight to the Phoenix flight in the Atlanta airport.  I will regret that decision.  

I finish up the evening with a detailed email out to my family. I cringe at the itinerary:   

Oct 4th Redmond - Salt Lake City -  Detroit - Hartford   

Oct 9th:  Hartford - Atlanta - Tallahassee 

Oct 13th:  Gainesville - Atlanta - Phoenix    

I always refuse to check luggage:  I'll cram the essentials into a small green backpack, then borrow the rest.   Do my sisters think that I am still 12 years old and I am coming to steal their clothes?  Shirts too small, shorts that don't fit.  Our family photos always amuse me ... much unlike the tight connections, bad food, long lines and tiny seats.  And much unlike the ATL ticketing agent who is going to refuse to put me on the LAST flight to PHX.  No matter how much I beg, the gate will close and I will be sleeping at the ATL airport.  I can't wait ...