Flying the Unfriendly Skies
Oh. My. God.
Normally, my plane trips back and forth to places are unremarkable. Maybe one thing annoying happens. This flight, however, is like a nightmare. That I didn't have because I didn't get any sleep last night.
It started like this: So, you remember how I got new luggage the other day so I would have more room to pack stuff? Yeah. Well, that's a total lie. Both bags - the laptop one and the rolling suitcase - have no more room than the previous ones. In fact, the laptop one maybe has less. I spent most of the night packing and re-packing the bags so I could fit everything in. I still managed to not be able to take my straight iron and my shampoo and conditioner that smell really good. Grr. I also had to do this weird thing with all of my prescription drugs since space was at a premium... normally I take the bottles since you're supposed to have the pharmacy labels with the meds. Well, I just couldn't find room to do that so I improvised. I took those tiny snack-size ziploc bags and stuck one of the extra labels in each baggie along with the corresponding medication. Saved me from all the bulky bottles and the tight-ass security guards didn't seem to mind. Hell, in Austin they probably didn't even notice or care. Now, I wouldn't DARE do this in St. Louis... those guys are serious assholes. Anyway... the new bags were not as cool as I thought. But they look great.
So there's no sleep for Em. Then Mom's late. My flight's scheduled for 9:25am. I asked her to pick me up from my apartment at 7am so we'd have plenty of time to get there during the nasty weather and the rush hour commute since the airport is smack-dab on the opposite side of the city from where I live. I start calling her at 7 wondering where she is. I figure she's running late as per usual (I was never on time to anything as a kid because of her... she seems to think that a start time of seven means you can LEAVE at 7). I call. And call. And call. Finally, at 7:25 the phone rings and Mom in a sleepy voice tells me that it's a good thing I called because her alarm didn't go off and she overslept. My first words were, "JESUS, MOM!" Then, of course, I had to apologize to the Lord for taking His name in vain but, Damn. The one day I needed her to be on time. So she says she'll be out the door in five. Finally, she gets to my house at about 7:40. I tell her that we need to go by Walgreens to pick up my pain medication so I can walk such a long way and not die before getting there. I also needed a Red Bull if I was going to make it at all. She started to bitch me out for adding something extra to the plan. Well, it's either do that, or I'm in pain. And, if she'd arrived on time, there'd be no time crunch. We ran to Walgreens - thankfully only a couple of blocks away - I whipped through the store - though slowed down considerably by the new, ancient pharmacy tech at the counter who didn't know how to work the register - and we were on our way. Traffic was slow in spots, but we made good time, only taking about 20 minutes to get there. I arrived about 8:20.
Mom dropped me off at the curbside check-in for Southwest. That was good. I didn't have to wait in a long line inside to check my bag. Which is UT orange. It's at least got that going for it. I hobbled to the "security checkpoint" with my papers waiting. I got through just fine, but was bitched at by the bastards because THEY weren't doing their job of clearing the bins from the rollers after the x-ray machine and so I was instead just packing myself up where the bins were. Well, finally the three guards realized that things were backing up and they needed to stop chatting about their sex lives down at the end of the line and so the guy came up and did that, "Ma'am you need to move down," thing, naturally right in the middle of my packing my things. I had my boarding pass and ID in my TEETH for fuck's sake. I hate them. I'm forced to move my things down mid-pack and end up snagging my thigh on the stupid metal table they provide you (which I swear they buy second-hand from morgues) I'm sure making a nice bruise. I then hobble to the gate.
I have to wait in line on my knee which is now getting quite painful behind an old couple trying to get on my flight. After about 10 minutes of them weaseling their way on board my plane, I finally get to tell the woman at the gate that I need a pre-boarding pass because of my bum leg. I go to sit in the PB area, and guess what I find? Four elderly people, and one woman with her young daughter. Now, I'm sorry, but if you're just old, but still have functioning legs and whatnot, I think you should board regularly like everyone else. If you have to use a wheelchair or a walker or some other device to get around, THEN you can pre-board. I don't think you should be able to just because you hit the ripe old age of 65. Medicare enrollment does not equal pre-board. Oh, then another mom with kids showed up. Except she had three. One was probably about 8, another 4 and one that is probably somewhere around 2.
So we all get on board. Were does the mommy with the little kids sit? You guessed it. Directly behind me. With the 1 1/2 year old right behind me at the window. And, like any little boy, he WILL NOT BEHAVE AT ALL. He has no inside voice. He's squealing all the time. Talking a hell of a lot of baby jibberish for a kid that old. KICKING THE BACK OF MY SEAT. I had to turn around and ask the mommy to ask her kid to not do that because DAMN. I shouldn't have to ask that. He's just so loud. And I have such a headache. The flight is completely full so I am forced to sit with someone next to me. And she's not small. And neither am I. Let's just say I'm getting claustrophobic. OMG. She just turned on her cell phone. We're going to go down and it'll be her fault. Maybe the NTSB will recover my computer and this writing and realize that it was the chick in 3B who did it by turning on her cell phone.
I was so excited. I had a new MP3 player that Mom got me for Christmas/Birthday to use while flying for the first time so I had something to listen to besides the hum of the engines and the squealing of the kid behind me. Of course, this being the WORST FLIGHT EVAR, it gets messed up after three songs and gets stuck to the point I can't even turn it off. I have NO idea what's going on. I'm really pissed. At least I actually have that extended warranty at Best Buy that everyone says not to buy. If it is actually broken I can replace it. I may get an iPod though, since it's been a real pain in the ass with this thing. More that I thought it'd be.
I can't wait to see Heather. It'll be just a little while now. We've been in the air for about an hour. Which means I get an hour-and-a-half more of squealing kid and claustrophobia induced by tiny seats not meant to fit people over 150 lbs. I will need quiet. And a nap. Because I have a migraine and it hurts. All loud sounds are killing me. And the glare of the sun off of the cloud cover below? Dude. Owie.
Maybe I'll take a nap and pray that it'll be over soon. If this KID WILL EVER STOP KICKING THE BACK OF MY SEAT.
Oh, God. Now he's CRYING. Just what I need. CRYING KID. Shit. Kill me.
Okay, she quieted him down by reading Thomas the Tank Engine stories to him. She has a good reading voice. Soothing. I might actually be able to take a nap now. Nope. Didn't last long enough.
Ugh. Every time I get comfortable enough, the chick next to me shifts. Because she just can't stand her thigh barely touching mine. I'm not crossing the armrest line of demarcation any more with my thick thigh than she is. So she needs to stop it. Seriously.
Okay. It seems I'm not going to get a nap before I land. Grr. After deplaning... I start to try to hobble my way to Heather myself. I make it two gates before the pain kicks in. So I ask the chick to get me a person with a wheelchair so I don't have to wobble it there. It takes twenty minutes to have someone finally get to me. I had time to get a drink and a Cinnabon and eat the whole thing before the woman showed up. Then it was a straight shot to the place where Heather was waiting. She called me to find out what I was wearing. "Red and a wheelchair." She loved that description. Poor girl had to take over the pushing me everywhere after we passed the security area and we had to grab my rolling bag from baggage claim and have me hold it while she carried my carry-on and pushed me to the car.
We got to her house and I crashed for a while. So nice to finally get my nap. And see Heather. And be around her again. Life feels much better again.
Normally, my plane trips back and forth to places are unremarkable. Maybe one thing annoying happens. This flight, however, is like a nightmare. That I didn't have because I didn't get any sleep last night.
It started like this: So, you remember how I got new luggage the other day so I would have more room to pack stuff? Yeah. Well, that's a total lie. Both bags - the laptop one and the rolling suitcase - have no more room than the previous ones. In fact, the laptop one maybe has less. I spent most of the night packing and re-packing the bags so I could fit everything in. I still managed to not be able to take my straight iron and my shampoo and conditioner that smell really good. Grr. I also had to do this weird thing with all of my prescription drugs since space was at a premium... normally I take the bottles since you're supposed to have the pharmacy labels with the meds. Well, I just couldn't find room to do that so I improvised. I took those tiny snack-size ziploc bags and stuck one of the extra labels in each baggie along with the corresponding medication. Saved me from all the bulky bottles and the tight-ass security guards didn't seem to mind. Hell, in Austin they probably didn't even notice or care. Now, I wouldn't DARE do this in St. Louis... those guys are serious assholes. Anyway... the new bags were not as cool as I thought. But they look great.
So there's no sleep for Em. Then Mom's late. My flight's scheduled for 9:25am. I asked her to pick me up from my apartment at 7am so we'd have plenty of time to get there during the nasty weather and the rush hour commute since the airport is smack-dab on the opposite side of the city from where I live. I start calling her at 7 wondering where she is. I figure she's running late as per usual (I was never on time to anything as a kid because of her... she seems to think that a start time of seven means you can LEAVE at 7). I call. And call. And call. Finally, at 7:25 the phone rings and Mom in a sleepy voice tells me that it's a good thing I called because her alarm didn't go off and she overslept. My first words were, "JESUS, MOM!" Then, of course, I had to apologize to the Lord for taking His name in vain but, Damn. The one day I needed her to be on time. So she says she'll be out the door in five. Finally, she gets to my house at about 7:40. I tell her that we need to go by Walgreens to pick up my pain medication so I can walk such a long way and not die before getting there. I also needed a Red Bull if I was going to make it at all. She started to bitch me out for adding something extra to the plan. Well, it's either do that, or I'm in pain. And, if she'd arrived on time, there'd be no time crunch. We ran to Walgreens - thankfully only a couple of blocks away - I whipped through the store - though slowed down considerably by the new, ancient pharmacy tech at the counter who didn't know how to work the register - and we were on our way. Traffic was slow in spots, but we made good time, only taking about 20 minutes to get there. I arrived about 8:20.
Mom dropped me off at the curbside check-in for Southwest. That was good. I didn't have to wait in a long line inside to check my bag. Which is UT orange. It's at least got that going for it. I hobbled to the "security checkpoint" with my papers waiting. I got through just fine, but was bitched at by the bastards because THEY weren't doing their job of clearing the bins from the rollers after the x-ray machine and so I was instead just packing myself up where the bins were. Well, finally the three guards realized that things were backing up and they needed to stop chatting about their sex lives down at the end of the line and so the guy came up and did that, "Ma'am you need to move down," thing, naturally right in the middle of my packing my things. I had my boarding pass and ID in my TEETH for fuck's sake. I hate them. I'm forced to move my things down mid-pack and end up snagging my thigh on the stupid metal table they provide you (which I swear they buy second-hand from morgues) I'm sure making a nice bruise. I then hobble to the gate.
I have to wait in line on my knee which is now getting quite painful behind an old couple trying to get on my flight. After about 10 minutes of them weaseling their way on board my plane, I finally get to tell the woman at the gate that I need a pre-boarding pass because of my bum leg. I go to sit in the PB area, and guess what I find? Four elderly people, and one woman with her young daughter. Now, I'm sorry, but if you're just old, but still have functioning legs and whatnot, I think you should board regularly like everyone else. If you have to use a wheelchair or a walker or some other device to get around, THEN you can pre-board. I don't think you should be able to just because you hit the ripe old age of 65. Medicare enrollment does not equal pre-board. Oh, then another mom with kids showed up. Except she had three. One was probably about 8, another 4 and one that is probably somewhere around 2.
So we all get on board. Were does the mommy with the little kids sit? You guessed it. Directly behind me. With the 1 1/2 year old right behind me at the window. And, like any little boy, he WILL NOT BEHAVE AT ALL. He has no inside voice. He's squealing all the time. Talking a hell of a lot of baby jibberish for a kid that old. KICKING THE BACK OF MY SEAT. I had to turn around and ask the mommy to ask her kid to not do that because DAMN. I shouldn't have to ask that. He's just so loud. And I have such a headache. The flight is completely full so I am forced to sit with someone next to me. And she's not small. And neither am I. Let's just say I'm getting claustrophobic. OMG. She just turned on her cell phone. We're going to go down and it'll be her fault. Maybe the NTSB will recover my computer and this writing and realize that it was the chick in 3B who did it by turning on her cell phone.
I was so excited. I had a new MP3 player that Mom got me for Christmas/Birthday to use while flying for the first time so I had something to listen to besides the hum of the engines and the squealing of the kid behind me. Of course, this being the WORST FLIGHT EVAR, it gets messed up after three songs and gets stuck to the point I can't even turn it off. I have NO idea what's going on. I'm really pissed. At least I actually have that extended warranty at Best Buy that everyone says not to buy. If it is actually broken I can replace it. I may get an iPod though, since it's been a real pain in the ass with this thing. More that I thought it'd be.
I can't wait to see Heather. It'll be just a little while now. We've been in the air for about an hour. Which means I get an hour-and-a-half more of squealing kid and claustrophobia induced by tiny seats not meant to fit people over 150 lbs. I will need quiet. And a nap. Because I have a migraine and it hurts. All loud sounds are killing me. And the glare of the sun off of the cloud cover below? Dude. Owie.
Maybe I'll take a nap and pray that it'll be over soon. If this KID WILL EVER STOP KICKING THE BACK OF MY SEAT.
Oh, God. Now he's CRYING. Just what I need. CRYING KID. Shit. Kill me.
Okay, she quieted him down by reading Thomas the Tank Engine stories to him. She has a good reading voice. Soothing. I might actually be able to take a nap now. Nope. Didn't last long enough.
Ugh. Every time I get comfortable enough, the chick next to me shifts. Because she just can't stand her thigh barely touching mine. I'm not crossing the armrest line of demarcation any more with my thick thigh than she is. So she needs to stop it. Seriously.
Okay. It seems I'm not going to get a nap before I land. Grr. After deplaning... I start to try to hobble my way to Heather myself. I make it two gates before the pain kicks in. So I ask the chick to get me a person with a wheelchair so I don't have to wobble it there. It takes twenty minutes to have someone finally get to me. I had time to get a drink and a Cinnabon and eat the whole thing before the woman showed up. Then it was a straight shot to the place where Heather was waiting. She called me to find out what I was wearing. "Red and a wheelchair." She loved that description. Poor girl had to take over the pushing me everywhere after we passed the security area and we had to grab my rolling bag from baggage claim and have me hold it while she carried my carry-on and pushed me to the car.
We got to her house and I crashed for a while. So nice to finally get my nap. And see Heather. And be around her again. Life feels much better again.