Mornings are never my thing. Mornings at the airport especially are not. I’m sorry to everyone at JFK airport this morning. This is my letter to you all.
Dear Terminal 4,
I am sorry to the Delta employee whom I asked, “Are you from Hell?” You are probably from somewhere nice like Detroit or Westboro.
I am sorry to the Duty Free fragrance store for the multiple times I was caught dropping several Giorgio Armani perfume bottles and proceeding to spray half a bottle over all of my belongings.
I am sorry for yelling out “Matt Damon” to someone who was not Matt Damon. And I am sorry to Matt Damon if that was actually you.
I am sorry to the Shake Shack employee who took my order. You spoke with your blank expressions and inhuman body movements, my asking “What?” 13 times was the best I could do.
I am sorry again, to Shake Shack for making them give me three different versions of my soda, I really can tell the difference between Diet Coke and Coke Zero, it ails me.
I am also sorry for everyone who watched me eat Shake Shack at 6 am in an airport. It was open. I was hungry. I did the right thing.
I am sorry to my airport Romeo. Just no. Please, no.
I am sorry to my fellow passengers that I brought on 5 carry-ons. I can’t help that the TSA does not do their job and I just don’t care.
I am sorry to the cheery flight attendant whom I asked for a glass of rosé knowing that it wasn’t on the menu. And then continuing to ask if she could mix white and red wine together. Wink.
And sorry to the woman sitting next to me, I definitely farted. I am most sorry for that.
All of my Love,