DISCOVER:
A TRAVELERS RANT

Dear Man at Gate B4 With the Floor-Kissed Hard-Boiled Egg, Ciao, my loves. It is I, Sassy Sorentina, reporting live from the Savannah airport — a place I once believed to be charming… until today’s event unfolded before my innocent Italian eyes. Picture it: I’m sitting at the gate, minding my own glamorous business, touching up my lip gloss, manifesting an upgrade, when suddenly — PLOP. Something white and oval hits the floor. A hard-boiled egg. Rolling. Rolling. Rolling… lik

Dear Man at the Next Table Who Treated the Parmesan Like It Owed Him Money, Thank you for tonight’s unexpected culinary thriller. I was simply enjoying my pasta when you reached for the Parmesan shaker and proceeded to aggressively pulverize your plate like you were salting a driveway in a Michigan blizzard. Sir, I have never witnessed someone commit violence with cheese until today. You weren’t sprinkling; you were summoning. The way you shook that shaker, I thought it might

Dear Uber Driver Hosting a Full International Conference Call, Thank you for picking me up for what I naïvely believed would be a calm 30-minute ride. But the moment I sat down, you immediately launched into a multi-person speaker-phone call in a language I do not speak… and at a volume usually reserved for fire drills and nightclub DJs. Sir, it is 6pm on a Monday night. Most people are decompressing, listening to music, or questioning their life choices. Meanwhile, you are a

Dear Underwear Hiding Beneath the Curtains, Ciao, bella — or should I say ciao, brutta sorpresa? I just checked into my Fairmont suite, ready for a little luxury, a little prosecco, a little “treat yourself” moment… and there you are. Lurking under the drapes like a shameful secret from housekeeping’s past. At first, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Surely, a Fairmont would not come with bonus drawers , no? But alas, there you lie. Wrinkled. Haunted. Possibly sentient. W