Sad tales of a traveller

Sometimes you just have to accept that the Universe is not spinning in the same direction as you are.
My mum taught me that ladies never sit on public toilet seats so with her admonition  ringing in my ears I took my chances and levitated above the seat at ChCh airport. Sadly I didn't calculate the force of gravity and the tendency of the human body to misfire under duress. The good news is that I missed the porcelain bowl. I did hit the seat, floor and my tights. Strike one.  I found it quite challenging having to climb into the handbasins to clean up.
Needing sustenance  I bought a buttered slice. The butter preferred my dress. Strike 2. So by the time I boarded the airplane I smelt like dried urine and rancid butter.
In the aircraft I felt safe. Premium economy oh yeah.
I made a wee faux pas when they brought the dinner tray as I assumed that the entree was the main so I ate it along with the dessert and cheese. The flight attendant could sense that I was  unaccustomed to fine dining and looked at me with a mixture of disdain and pity as she laid the main dish alongside my empty dessert plate. I explained to her that I had " no English." I did consider my Tourette's go to, but it is a confined space.

Then the toilet.
Trip one: the soap dispenser was under considerable pressure and fired into my hair, over my clothes and down my neck. I must admit it smelt better than the urine or butter. No harm done. Job completed, pressed the pressurised flusher and the vacuum took the longest edges of my dress into the toilet bowl.
It's no wonder I love Miranda.
Trip 2: time to clean the teeth before landing in Vancouver after spending much of the night with my jaw collapsed onto my chest looking like an old lady having a wee zzzz in a rest home.
Now I'm proud of my organisation so equipped with toothbrush and toothpaste, and happy to flash it about to show everyone that my personal hygiene is above criticism, I enter the toilet and squeeze out the paw paw lip balm onto the toothbrush. 
The man in the seat next to the spare one beside me assured me he wasn't a religious man but I think I caught him praying!!!!! Might have been when I started to eat the toothpaste to counter the paw paw moisturiser in my mouth.
My clothes are now 24 hours dirty and no panty liners or underarm deodorant are  going to help. If I get sick here and need any cultures taking I'll just give them my clothes. I have The Lazarus Effect and I stinketh.
O Canada 
If you're into "songs in the Key of M" on YouTube you'll find a great song called "in Canada." Yeeha.
I'm at Vancouver Airport in the domestic terminal. There is more security here than in any other place I have been. They took my toothpaste!!!!! How very dare they. I'm waiting to fly out to Vancouver Island so I've had a 4+ hour wait in a beautiful airport with some of the rudest, most unhelpful people on earth. It's Basil Fawlty Land. My kiwi accent is a killer. My coffee cup at Starbucks read "LIGNTEN." They insisted that was me. I find myself speaking slowly and shouting"

The good news is that the flight to Vancouver Island is overbooked so now we wait. The check in chick was not willing to negotiate me having the pilots seat. I have walked one end of the airport to the other and over several levels. It's a 22 minute flight and I reckon I've walked the kms from here to Vancouver anyway. I even tried a little cry, whimper thing but she gave me the "grow a pair look" so I panicked and told her I could wait several days if it suited her. They are offering a $400 flight incentive for anyone who will take the later flight.

I've seen a bowl of poutine but can't look it in the eye. If Duane were here he'd be ordering a large box of Tim Hortons donuts but I can't brave that either. So now I wait.

But wait there's more. I took the time to have one last nervous pre flight visit to the bathroom. As I was leaving the restroom a lovely lady in airport uniform called me over to tell me that I had my dress caught in my knickers.