Not Dead Yet
So here I am in Terminal 3 at Heathrow. I stayed up all night and got a cab at 4:15 AM. It’s 6:33 now, and my flight was supposed to leave at 7:55. Unfortunately, my father’s travel agent apparently never confirmed my ticket change from 3 June to today, and they didn’t have me in the system.
So I slogged over to the ticket counter and told the woman my situation. She was under the impression that I was a scoundrel, and she was not about to let me get the best of her. I believe she thought that I had been on vacation here and then suddenly decided to stay an extra eleven days and pull a fast one at the airport. We debated the situation, exchanging increasingly vitriolic comments, until finally I said, “Listen, I’m not trying to trick you here, I just want to get home. Please, just tell me what my options are.” That was all I needed to say, because she booked me on the 10:30 flight and charged me the $75 fee without even a sneer. Why they have room on the 10:30 flight and not this hellish 7:55 flight I do not know, but I wasn’t about to continue this dispute.
At first I was mad about the situation, and then I calmed down when I realized that it could have been much worse. If I had to catch another cab back home and come back the next day I would have been extremely upset. But then I got mad again as I realized that this means I will have to sit in the airport for another three and a half hours. I’m amusing myself by pretending this was a massive conspiracy going all the way up to Elizabeth II; this country just couldn’t bear to let me leave. Now they’re all hoping I’ll fall asleep here and miss my flight.
Anyway, here’s the moral: do not use travel agents. They charge you to do a job that you could do for free and more easily on the internet in the comfort of your own home. And this time they couldn’t even do it right.
Airports are lonely in that full-of-strange-people way. And they are boring even though they’re pretty much just big shopping malls. I just want to get on my plane.
That's what I wrote on 14 June as I attempted to make my way back to the States. The day continued with my flight taking an hour longer than it should have, my second flight being delayed twice and then cancelled, my third flight also being delayed, and me finally arriving in Champaign at around 6:30. So, it took me about 20.5 hours to get from my room in London to my room in Champaign. Also, I left my 18 favorite CDs on the transatlantic flight. But I can't blame that one on anyone but myself.
So I stayed in the 'Paign for a few days and then made my way up to Chicago. I decided to paint my walls "Stadium Red." Here it is in the middle of the first coat, before I knew that it was going to take three to look even halfway decent.
And here it is when I decided I could stop painting and move some stuff in.
I need to put some stuff up on the walls, but I like the color.
I guess I've kept relatively busy. I saw Ted Leo and Fountains of Wayne play at the Randolph Street Festival. I went back to Champaign for a weekend with Johanna and hung out at big state college bars with two members of the C.O.R.E. Last night, thanks to Mike, I got to go see Clinton speak at a Kerry Fundraiser. I didn't get to meet him; you had to pay lots of money for that, like $10,000. I think Bill might have been a little drunk. Or maybe he's just tired from his book tour.
I read two books, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris and Positively Fifth Street by James McManus. The latter was so engrossing that I nearly became one of those people that walks around campus with their nose in a book and their route memorized, only looking up at busy intersections, like the guy I just saw with the long gray ponytail and the Sox hat. After finising those two I went to the Sem Coop and bought a few more, and I started a couple of them. A book of Chekhov short stories, because I've never read him, I feel like I need to read some more Russians, and Hemingway liked him. And Oblivion by David Foster Wallace because he's great and also a hometown hero.
Tonight I'll see Spider-Man and tomorrow I'm going to the fireworks.
Eventually I'm going to need to find a job.
Anyway, I just wanted to post because I haven't really been online since unplugging my computer in London. It's the longest I've gone without some serious internet time in quite a while, and I was surprised not only that I could do it, but that I actually really enjoyed it. The semi-isolation was nice, and sort of a relief. Soon we'll get this SBC shit figured out though and I'll be back. Until then, cheers.
So I slogged over to the ticket counter and told the woman my situation. She was under the impression that I was a scoundrel, and she was not about to let me get the best of her. I believe she thought that I had been on vacation here and then suddenly decided to stay an extra eleven days and pull a fast one at the airport. We debated the situation, exchanging increasingly vitriolic comments, until finally I said, “Listen, I’m not trying to trick you here, I just want to get home. Please, just tell me what my options are.” That was all I needed to say, because she booked me on the 10:30 flight and charged me the $75 fee without even a sneer. Why they have room on the 10:30 flight and not this hellish 7:55 flight I do not know, but I wasn’t about to continue this dispute.
At first I was mad about the situation, and then I calmed down when I realized that it could have been much worse. If I had to catch another cab back home and come back the next day I would have been extremely upset. But then I got mad again as I realized that this means I will have to sit in the airport for another three and a half hours. I’m amusing myself by pretending this was a massive conspiracy going all the way up to Elizabeth II; this country just couldn’t bear to let me leave. Now they’re all hoping I’ll fall asleep here and miss my flight.
Anyway, here’s the moral: do not use travel agents. They charge you to do a job that you could do for free and more easily on the internet in the comfort of your own home. And this time they couldn’t even do it right.
Airports are lonely in that full-of-strange-people way. And they are boring even though they’re pretty much just big shopping malls. I just want to get on my plane.
That's what I wrote on 14 June as I attempted to make my way back to the States. The day continued with my flight taking an hour longer than it should have, my second flight being delayed twice and then cancelled, my third flight also being delayed, and me finally arriving in Champaign at around 6:30. So, it took me about 20.5 hours to get from my room in London to my room in Champaign. Also, I left my 18 favorite CDs on the transatlantic flight. But I can't blame that one on anyone but myself.
So I stayed in the 'Paign for a few days and then made my way up to Chicago. I decided to paint my walls "Stadium Red." Here it is in the middle of the first coat, before I knew that it was going to take three to look even halfway decent.
And here it is when I decided I could stop painting and move some stuff in.
I need to put some stuff up on the walls, but I like the color.
I guess I've kept relatively busy. I saw Ted Leo and Fountains of Wayne play at the Randolph Street Festival. I went back to Champaign for a weekend with Johanna and hung out at big state college bars with two members of the C.O.R.E. Last night, thanks to Mike, I got to go see Clinton speak at a Kerry Fundraiser. I didn't get to meet him; you had to pay lots of money for that, like $10,000. I think Bill might have been a little drunk. Or maybe he's just tired from his book tour.
I read two books, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris and Positively Fifth Street by James McManus. The latter was so engrossing that I nearly became one of those people that walks around campus with their nose in a book and their route memorized, only looking up at busy intersections, like the guy I just saw with the long gray ponytail and the Sox hat. After finising those two I went to the Sem Coop and bought a few more, and I started a couple of them. A book of Chekhov short stories, because I've never read him, I feel like I need to read some more Russians, and Hemingway liked him. And Oblivion by David Foster Wallace because he's great and also a hometown hero.
Tonight I'll see Spider-Man and tomorrow I'm going to the fireworks.
Eventually I'm going to need to find a job.
Anyway, I just wanted to post because I haven't really been online since unplugging my computer in London. It's the longest I've gone without some serious internet time in quite a while, and I was surprised not only that I could do it, but that I actually really enjoyed it. The semi-isolation was nice, and sort of a relief. Soon we'll get this SBC shit figured out though and I'll be back. Until then, cheers.