Orlando Trip
I woke up, and it was pitch black. I checked my phone, and it was after 5. My flight flies out at 5:30, and I panic. I somehow managed to sleep through all 4 of the alarms that I had set. A cartoonesque montage of throwing last minute crap in suitcases and running out the door leaves me rushing towards the airport. Ok, I know I'll miss my flight, but I might make the next one.
I kinda hate sleeping like I am dead.
I make it to the airport, talk to the woman at the check-in. "There's a 5050 chance you'll get out today.". "Like hell," I think, "I have all day to get out of here."
The final motherfucking four. It's basketball, so it's on my radar in the same way professional quilting championships are. I'd kind of heard of it in the same way I'd kind of heard superfluids. Well, the Final Four attendees hit me full in the face. Turns out the fuckers had filled all flights out of NOLA and had overflowed out of Baton Rouge. Which meant all flights were either full or overbooked. After a couple of flights to Houston, I was #1 on the standby list.
Turns out this is the Airline equivalent of being friendzoned. You would be the perfect passenger, but you will never be their passenger. They talk to you about the passengers they have and they complain about their passengers, but you will never actually be their passenger. After waiting literally over 12 hours, I am able (Though my travel agent) able to get a flight out of New Orleans at 6:30 AM. Which meant I'd need to be at the airport at 4:30 AM. Which meant, if I left from Baton rouge, I'd need to leave my house at around 3 AM. Which meant getting up at maybe 2:30 AM.
I ended up staying with Elena in NOLA, but we still needed to get to bed ASAP to get me out of her place by 4 AM. We did pretty good, but at around midnight, all hell broke loose. It sounded like God and Satan were gangbanging the world's largest tin roof right above our heads. I guess it could have been louder thunder, but it would have started requiring saving throws vs. Damage. I didn't sleep much, and took off in the rain. The plane was delayed by an hour, seeing as how the raindrops were flying sideways and everything. An hour, whcih, by the way, was how long I had as a layover for my Orlando flight.
So, sitting as I was in the very back of the plane, I managed to miss my flight by about 5 mins, which is how long the very, very slow people in front of me took. So, I got to wait, all day. Again. Till maybe 2 PM. Day two in the same clothes. I was feeling awesome. The plane is delayed, because the Airline Gods have said, at this point, 'Hey, you know that guy? Screw that guy. Right in the ass.'. After an hour of delays, it starts boarding. I'm near the end, because it's always fun to kick a guy while he is down. At this point I have developed a compulsive need to check my ticket every 2-3 mins or so. I know it is right. Every detail. I hand the woman my ticket, and she throws it under the scanner. *BRRRT* with a big red light. 'I'm sorry Sir this ticket has no value.'. WTF does that mean? 'Well, it means this is just a piece of paper, it's no good as a ticket.'. Cue a montage of me running around to customer service desks and old sassy black women bitching at people on phones and tapping away on keyboards. I get a replacement ticket and run back to the gate, just in time to interrupt what, apparently, is a big kerfuffle about a foreign family who is scheduled to be on an exit row, none of which apparently feel like they could possibly open a door if there was a damn fire on the plane. I volunteer to take over such heavy responsibilities, and they all thank me to an extent which I feel is far more than it deserves. Well, by all except the little girl held by her mother. She took a look at me and decided that not only had I pissed in her cheerie-o's, I had also shit in her cornflakes, vomited in her fruity pebbles, was the number 1 suspect in a 'farting in the Wheaties' incident and was wanted for questioning in a pop-tart queefing incident. Her ace screwed up into a rictus of hatred and horror, and she immediately broke into uncontrollable, inconsolable tears, burying her face into her mother and trying to hide from me. Great. I got on the plane and found my seat. 'Fuck that kid,' I tought, 'I'm going to Orlando.'
I kinda hate sleeping like I am dead.
I make it to the airport, talk to the woman at the check-in. "There's a 5050 chance you'll get out today.". "Like hell," I think, "I have all day to get out of here."
The final motherfucking four. It's basketball, so it's on my radar in the same way professional quilting championships are. I'd kind of heard of it in the same way I'd kind of heard superfluids. Well, the Final Four attendees hit me full in the face. Turns out the fuckers had filled all flights out of NOLA and had overflowed out of Baton Rouge. Which meant all flights were either full or overbooked. After a couple of flights to Houston, I was #1 on the standby list.
Turns out this is the Airline equivalent of being friendzoned. You would be the perfect passenger, but you will never be their passenger. They talk to you about the passengers they have and they complain about their passengers, but you will never actually be their passenger. After waiting literally over 12 hours, I am able (Though my travel agent) able to get a flight out of New Orleans at 6:30 AM. Which meant I'd need to be at the airport at 4:30 AM. Which meant, if I left from Baton rouge, I'd need to leave my house at around 3 AM. Which meant getting up at maybe 2:30 AM.
I ended up staying with Elena in NOLA, but we still needed to get to bed ASAP to get me out of her place by 4 AM. We did pretty good, but at around midnight, all hell broke loose. It sounded like God and Satan were gangbanging the world's largest tin roof right above our heads. I guess it could have been louder thunder, but it would have started requiring saving throws vs. Damage. I didn't sleep much, and took off in the rain. The plane was delayed by an hour, seeing as how the raindrops were flying sideways and everything. An hour, whcih, by the way, was how long I had as a layover for my Orlando flight.
So, sitting as I was in the very back of the plane, I managed to miss my flight by about 5 mins, which is how long the very, very slow people in front of me took. So, I got to wait, all day. Again. Till maybe 2 PM. Day two in the same clothes. I was feeling awesome. The plane is delayed, because the Airline Gods have said, at this point, 'Hey, you know that guy? Screw that guy. Right in the ass.'. After an hour of delays, it starts boarding. I'm near the end, because it's always fun to kick a guy while he is down. At this point I have developed a compulsive need to check my ticket every 2-3 mins or so. I know it is right. Every detail. I hand the woman my ticket, and she throws it under the scanner. *BRRRT* with a big red light. 'I'm sorry Sir this ticket has no value.'. WTF does that mean? 'Well, it means this is just a piece of paper, it's no good as a ticket.'. Cue a montage of me running around to customer service desks and old sassy black women bitching at people on phones and tapping away on keyboards. I get a replacement ticket and run back to the gate, just in time to interrupt what, apparently, is a big kerfuffle about a foreign family who is scheduled to be on an exit row, none of which apparently feel like they could possibly open a door if there was a damn fire on the plane. I volunteer to take over such heavy responsibilities, and they all thank me to an extent which I feel is far more than it deserves. Well, by all except the little girl held by her mother. She took a look at me and decided that not only had I pissed in her cheerie-o's, I had also shit in her cornflakes, vomited in her fruity pebbles, was the number 1 suspect in a 'farting in the Wheaties' incident and was wanted for questioning in a pop-tart queefing incident. Her ace screwed up into a rictus of hatred and horror, and she immediately broke into uncontrollable, inconsolable tears, burying her face into her mother and trying to hide from me. Great. I got on the plane and found my seat. 'Fuck that kid,' I tought, 'I'm going to Orlando.'