Viva Espana, er, Las Vegas

I am biding my time in JFK Airport for my flight to Las Vegas in an hour for Fun Girl Weekend in Las Vegas. As I approached the ticket window to check my bag and get my boarding pass, it looked like a long line had formed. I groaned a little to myself by realized that I couldn't actually get in line, because there was one of those strappy belt thingies cordoning off the line... wth?

Trust me," a man said, seeing my confusion. "You want to go around us. We're all going to Madrid."

And then- a flash of recognition. Dude, I know what this is. This is a school group flying en masse somewhere. There's all the telltale signs: a clump of passengers with a striking uniformity of age/varsity jacket attire, two adults in front, two adults in back, all with practiced looks of enthusiasm of their faces with just a hint of resignation and top notes of a "What I have gotten myself into?" followed by a role model-y demonstration of patience to finish.

I slide my driver's license out of my wallet and watch a group of teenage girls taking pictures of each other. It takes all I have not to run up and hug them and word-vomit all over them along the lines of "OMG you guys! I went to Spain with some of my best friends when I was your age you're gonna love it I can't believe that was like 16 years ago- but anyway guess what we're still friends and I'm on my way to meet some of them in Las Vegas right now and you guys! BBFs! Have so much fun and oh you're gonna need to wear a skirt over those leggings in Spain because men might just call out whatever body parts they like as you pass by you know that right? okay have a blast SQUEE!"

Instead I grin like a fool as I move through security, right up until the moment when our x-ray machine breaks. Ah, well. Eyes on the prize! Vegas awaits!