So for those of you who actually read this blog, this post is in response to the request from some of you on Facebook who have asked me to please, please document my travel travails. I debated the best way to do this. Perhaps a hashtag on Twitter? Just keep updating the Facebook?
Then I sat back and realized, "Bless my corns, I've had a blog since 2002 and I haven't posted in a while." So here we are. If you are seriously interested in reading this, feel free to. This particular assish travel round requires a bit of telling. So settle in. Grab a drink. Have at it:
This week has been particularly awesome sauce in the travel sense. And by that, I mean absolute and spectacular fail. If the time you leave the house to get to the airport counts as the time travel starts, well, that means that I left my house last Tuesday at 4am to get on a flight and won't land until tonight (the following Tuesday at 11pm). I bounced from New York to California to Texas and back to the DC area. Just enough to not just confuse my mind, but my body and emotions, too.
So as I sit here, on my final flight of this trip, ruminating about the "highlights' (can you call them that?), here's where it's at. Not gonna lie, I'm kind of hoping never to have another round like this, but if I do, promise to keep this more updated.
This whole thing started innocently enough. After doing 10 states, 19 cities since March (with many repeat trips to a few of those cities), I've gotten incredibly good at knowing the time to leave my house to park my car, make it through TSA and get to my gate in time. At Dulles. Which is a labyrinth. I even know the good times to travel to hopefully avoid crowds. 4am is a damn good time, in that regard.
Even my cab ride from JFK to downtown Manhattan was quick - a 40 minute ride - on a Tuesday morning. What? I should have known. Oy.
So it all started on Thursday, when my flight was supposed to leave at 11:15 or something like that (can't even remember) with a layover in Salt Lake City (haven't been there yet, thought that might be exciting) before a flight to Sacramento. Everything was alright. Got on the plane, settled in my seat when the announcement came on about hydraulics. And getting someone to look at it. Then it was something about it needing to be repaired. Then replaced. Then we couldn't stay on the plane while they repaired it because they needed to lift one side of the plane at a time. By the way, I had sat on the plane for 40 minutes.
Luckily, I had a significant layover in Salt Lake. Either way, I saw there was a plane through LAX that could have gotten me to Sacramento at the same time (5:30 PDT), so I tried that but I got there just as they stopped boarding. I had just resigned myself to the delay only to hear them crackle over the loudspeaker that the repair now looked like we would be delayed until at least 3pm.
It was 1. Off to the service counter I go. Not many options at that rate. I was definitely going to miss the last flight out of Salt Lake to get to Sacramento for a 9am meeting. So they tried to book me on standby for an earlier flight to keep that flight, but then they put me on an LAX flight at 5. Ok, cool.
By the way, it was a gorgeous day in NYC that day. Not humid, not too hot and a nice breeze. I was staring at it through the glass of JFK and wishing I could at least just sit out there. Instead, I found myself staring at the group of Mormon dudes delayed, carrying on loudly while eating their McDonalds and wondering about those name tags they had on. But I also was not interested in engaging them in any kind of conversation because...well, Mormons. Duh.
My flight at 5 starts to gather at the gate and we hear there's another delay. Another mechanical delay. Oh hell. I go back to the service desk. What are my chances of getting to Sacramento for my 9am? Bleak. The only hope I have is that the plane at LAX is also delayed out. Crap. I get a standby ticket for the first morning flight - just in case. The Delta folks are nice. I should have fought for a drink ticket.
Especially when the woman next to me at the gate pulls off her shoes and proceeds to lotion her legs and feet while we wait. What?
So an hour and half delay later, we finally leave. I am resigned, again, to missing my connecting flight. I watch some movies. I sleep. But when we land, I see in my TripCase that the flight had indeed been delayed. And I run over the teenager that has sat next to me for the flight to get to the gate, the next terminal over.
I make it just as they are boarding. I breathlessly tell the stewardess that I am unsure if they held my seat. She gives me attitude. By the way, Delta has also bumped me to first class for this flight, so I ran to the front of the line. She tells me to stand aside, that if I just arrived on a delayed flight, I probably got bumped to the next morning.
At this point, I had been patient throughout the day, keeping my cool as best I could. But I kind of started to get unglued. It is now 10:30 PDT, I had left my NYC hotel at 8am EST (for those keeping score, that's 17 hours before landing in LAX) and she was giving me attitude. I know I said something in frustration like, "Seriously? I've been delayed since 11 this morning in NY." She remained unsympathetic. Another woman from my flight rolls up and she tells her to stand aside. When the line dwindled, she took that woman first. I stood, fuming. She finally turned to me and said, "ok, let's try your ticket." The green light came up and I said, "Thank you" through clenched teeth as I ran to the plane.
Which also didn't take off right away due to traffic at the airport. I stared at a video screen taunting me with images of tequila for about 30 minutes before we finally left.
I landed at 12:30am PDT, or 3:30am EST. Only to find out that my more economical hotel choice was another 30 minutes away. I mean, not much I could do but laugh. And cry. And maybe swear. A lot. That's not normally a long distance. But at close to 24 hours of travel, it's a lifetime to get to that warm hotel bed.
Saturday, I headed out to Dallas. If you've ever been through the hell that is a small airport (Sacramento) that is really quick to get through EXCEPT for the fact that the rental car place requires a shuttle (why, it's not a big airport) that does not come often - so much that there is a line of people waiting and four shuttles have to come by before you even get on one - then you know at this point, I feel like the universe is playing a cosmic joke on me. I make it just in time to get to my flight as they are just starting the boarding process, get in my seat and...
...mechanical issue that has to be looked at. Uh. FML.
At this point, I'm lucky that in both of these cases, I have given myself a travel day, I wasn't necessarily rushing, but I also had to get there. But still. What.
Long story short, ended up with a 40 minute delay. Then another delay at the connecting at MSP because the plane we were getting on was delayed. What I know is that I was supposed to land in Dallas at 10pm. I landed at 12:30 am. Late enough for the shuttle to the conference center to stop running, but had to pay $30 for a cab ride to go 6 miles. Really, Dallas? Really?
So today, on my last day of travel for a few days (I don't get on a plane again for another week, I think), I snorted when I saw an alert that my plane was delayed 8 minutes. Seriously? 8 minutes?
But the tomfoolery otherwise has not stopped. One thing about spending all the time in the airports that I have, I've been doing some people watching. You know, for a long time, New York was the penultimate in people watching. I think airports may now take the cake. There's so much random shit people do. But today alone was memorable:
For starters, I plugged in my eGo charger with two USB slots in the phone charge area, sitting right next to it, playing on my phone. Suddenly, I feel my phone vibrate as a notice comes up that the charger is not compatible. I glance back to my charger. Someone has plugged in their phone in my extra USB slot. Look, given the rest of this story, you can tell my irritation level does not take long to get to red flag. I turned around again, I think out of sheer confusion and almost utter surprise that anyone would do that without asking. By the third time, the guy sitting next to him goes, "Oh, that's him, not me," and as he says it, unplugs him. And the power usurper glances at me with an annoyed look on his face and I say, "yeah, thanks, it made it not work on my phone just now." He then looks surprised and says sort of apologetically, "oh, really?" and continues his conversation on the phone.
Notice I said "sort of". No apology. What the hell. He was sitting in first class when I boarded my 8 minute delayed flight. I nearly pretended to drop my bag on his head.
Then, my seat mate on the plane not only moved his bag under the seat to squish mine so he could stretch his legs out (look, I'm not judging because I have short legs and even I have to be creative with the leg space, but again, what's with not asking) and fiddled with his phone the whole time. He also had his settings so that his font was huge, so I'd find myself unexpectedly looking over and reading his email (awkward). But then he spent a good deal of time reading some MMA Fanatic blog. I learned a lot from that.
By the way, that 8 minute delay turned into a late enough arrival that I had 10 minutes to get from the plane to my next flight. Another terminal away. Whyyyy.
And now, I sit here as the two dudes in front of me, who just met, babble loudly because apparently they can't hear each other over the plane. But the rest of us can. I mean, yelling. YELLING. Everyone around has headphones on, but glaring at them during moments of particular high volume.
Oh, and remember that guy who borrowed my power without asking? Here's the beauty of karma: as I ran from that last flight out of Dallas, he (and the unplug guy who I realize now is his partner), ran over me and other people to get to their connecting flight. I mean, pushed elderly people out of the way on the moving walkway. I was doing my usual New York hustle when I saw the tram that said Concourse D and the door just seemed to be hanging open with spot for one more person. I glanced up, saw them disappear in front of me and hopped on the tram. Two minutes later, I arrived just at my gate (which really was a much longer haul than I think I realized) and moseyed up to my gate. Only to see power strip dude and his partner huffing it in 5 minutes afterwards.
Some semblance of balance achieved after a hell travel week. I'm weirdly jet lagged. My body basically is telling me to go eff myself. My back and neck are in a wide disagreement about where they should be. I go from wide awake to wanting to sleep forever. But I'll take my small victories and enjoy them. No matter how petty it might seem when I read this with fresh eyes in the morning.
But again, I'm not even home yet. Just blogging from the air. I still have one more airport to survive before I get home. Damnhellass.
Oh, and the dudes are still yelling. I may just start kicking the seat.