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Momma, where's the Luggage.

• Momma: In the garage. You know, PJ, you're going to have to do SOME things yourself.
• Socks cascade out of my arms like Basilisk fangs.
• Me: Excuse me?
• Momma: It's true.
• Me: I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING BY MYSELF, all you did was pay for the flight! Do you even know where I'm going?!
• Momma: YES.
• Me: GOOD. WALK ME THROUGH MY TRIP.
• Momma: You'll be...at the convention center...in the...LA...area.