My Worst Travel Nightmare Ever


A couple of years ago, I had to fly to L.A. to do a major TV appearance. I absolutely couldn’t fuck this up.

I hailed a cab to JFK and efficiently prepared to check in.

But as I looked at my sheet of paper with the travel information, I realized my flight was actually leaving out of Newark!

It was total gay heart attack time. I would have helicoptered to Newark if I could — or just run like the dickens, with my carry-on bag in hand.

Instead, I hailed another cab and started praying.

Amazingly, I was lucky enough to get a genius driver who whooshed and whirred his brilliant vehicle and got me there with 10 minutes to spare.

It was a press-whore’s miracle — like something out of a gay Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

But, oh, what a fright. I’d gotten so worked up about the whole mess that I forgot to even get nervous about flying — I was just so happy to get on the plane!

Ever have a travel plan go similarly awry and live to tell about it?