Travel Log: PA to ME
12/23 10:06-10:19pm. Gate C51, Pittsburgh.
The lady says that my plane will be here in 20 minutes. And I have to share it with two other guys. Plus the flight staff, of course.
How I got to where I am now: Before departing Dubois, Steph suggested printing my boarding pass ahead of time. I attempted this, but discovered that my PIT>IAD (PA to VA) flight was delayed at least an hour. The IAD>PWM (VA to ME) flight was still on time. This meant that trouble was afoot. Aside from the bit where it can inconvenience those that are helping me get to and from airports, and except for those times when majorly bad things happen when the schedule fails, I happen to enjoy adventures while traveling. And it's not simply because I've lived in boredomtown for the last few months - I actually kind of like bumming around airports, searching for new options, and whatnot. Last time I went through IAD, I was stuck with Erik and Hannah (Maine people) for a day or so - it totally made my day. H and E were less amused.
When I arrived at the airport, my PIT>IAD was indeed still delayed, and the IAD>PWM was indeed still on time. A check-in lady helped me maximize my options, although because I don't fly enough to know the system really well, some of what she was saying went over my head. But basically, we decided to send me to IAD (Hereafter Dulles - one of three Washington DC airports, although it's located in northern VA) tonight, and book me for a 4ish pm flight tomorrow. There were no other options, aside from a slim chance of standby somewhere or other. So I called my buddy Ben, who lives less than an hour from Dulles, and he said he'd be glad to put me up for the night. Didi would also be around to say hi for a little while, and then tomorrow I'll be seeing the Swistocks before heading back to the airport for my 4ish flight.
So, my plan to travel by train failed and was replaced by something cheaper. Then my flight schedule failed and was replaced by something that lets me see my Virginia friends on the way to Maine. I have the best bad luck ever.
I'm putting my computer away to get ready for the plane which will be doing it's stuff in about ten minutes. Only three people are going to be on it - no wonder it was so cheap. I suppose a few folks transferred to other flights when it was determined that they would miss their connections, but still. Three passengers. Nice.
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12/24 2:10-2:50am. Ben's house, Virginia.
I am now in the basement of the house in which I slept last time I had a travel snafu. Last time, it was a case of taking the wrong local bus and finding myself stuck at about 1 or 2 am with nowhere to go - except to Ben. This time, it was a case of me having a place to stay while stuck (the airport), and conveniently being stuck in the best possible airport I could be stuck in. No other major airport (aside from Portland, ME) in the world is closer to as many (or any) friends than Dulles.
The flight from Pittsburgh to Dulles was did not end up taking off until after 11:30ish and it landed at about 12:30. But the in between part was the interesting part. Because there were only three passengers and so many open seats, I sat in one of the Frontward Wide Seats For Rich People. There was a pilot flying standby with us. The flight attendants were clearly ready to get home and go to bed, and both were in rather silly moods. Everyone that was seated toward the front of the plane was being a little goofy and laughing. The standby rider kept pushing the attendant caler button to interrupt the mandatory safety speech. The attendant finalized the mandatory safety speech by pointing out that the call buttons are a privilege, not a right, and they could be taken away. The standby rider responded the only way that made sense - by pushing the button again. The attendant's head sunk. "Damn."
Before we even took off, the attendant (hereafter "Tonya") I simply had water. Before we took off. Oh yes. First class treatment, baby.
After introducing herself and the other attendant over the PA, Tonya attempted to identify the pilot so that we'd all feel nice and comfy. SOP, you know. "And commanding this vessel is captain... uhh..." She looked over her shoulder. It was not clear whethr she actually forgot the man's name, or if she was just playing. "Captain The Guy Who Is Going To Get Us All Home So That We Can Go To Bed." Laughter. "And the first mate is a copilot named Justin."
Throughout the safety orientation that occurs at the beginning of every flight, there was just the tiniest touch of sarcasm in the demonstrator's body language. Following her presentation of How To Buckle A Seatbelt (And Other Safety Tips): A Beginners Guide, there was a round of applause from half of the four passengers.
After the flight was underway, she returned and asked various folks what they wanted to drink. It was the first time I had ever been offered alcohol on a flight. Coincidentally, it was also the first time I'd ever been 21 on a flight. I wasn't in the mood to have any, and wasn't in the mood to inquire if there was an extra fee involved, so I abstained. But I asked what all the options were. After listing out all the possible alcohols, juices, sodas, and other drinks, I asked if I would be a jerk if I said I wanted water. The answer to this question was a definite affirmitive, but it was said with a chuckle. I went for apple juice this time - not interested in water. The juice was delivered forthwith, along with an entire cup of little pretzels, and trail mix of some sort. And a little while later, she came back and refilled my apple juice. Not very usual for flying coach, but then there were only three of us on the plane, and two of us were seated up front in a nice and convenient location.
At one point when I looked out my window, I saw a set of buildings and parking lots. Or rather, I saw the streetlights that lit them, and a little bit of them themselves. And in a manner identical to a breeze rolling along a field of grain, many of the lights turned off and then one. And then some went dim. And then they went out completely - and no lights were in that area anymore. But other areas in my peripheral vision were still lit. It was an interesting thing to see.
While waiting for the flight, and while in the air, I worked on a new language project. This marks the fifth time I've designed a new alphabet. Every time I do it, I wind up with a different number of letters, and this time there were 28. There were 4 number symbols, thus the characters total 32, an exponent of 2 but not of 4. And 4, I decided, is important to the culture that will use the language that I will build from this alphabet. I also sorted out some punctuation. Besides punctuation for writing symbols (like a comma) and mathematical operators (like a multiplication sign), I also included a set of logical operators (like an OR). This will tie in very well with the language custom designed for a culture which thinks in philosophical and logical ways. The elements of the grammar with be arranged logically, and the system of vocabulary will enable easier philosophical discussion and understanding. I have only plans for that bit, though. First comes the alphabet. I have 8 vowels.
About halfway through the flight, Tonya and the other attendant stopped referring to us as "ladies and gentlemen" and switched to simply "gentlemen." Understandably, there are many things said by the attendants that are scripted, and that's okay. It's a good way of making sure that specific information has at least gone through people's heads (even if we've heard it all before). Tradition supported the use of the phrase "ladies and gentlemen" for only so long, and then with what I dare call a giggle, Tonya took stock of the genders of the passengers and stopped addressing the ladies that weren't there.
I landed at 12:30 and made my way, eventually, to baggage claim. As I recall from being stranded in Duller for a day back in 2005, their concourses are separated, and one must ride a particularly unglamourous trolley-thing from place to place. I had no baggage to claim, but not because this was merely a connection. I had no baggage to claim because I left my large bag with Steph, for fear of losing it in a flurry of switched flights. I took a few important items out of it and stuffed them into my computer bag. Thus it was with only my computer bag that I greeted Ben and Didi.
Because of course, Dulles is smack dab in the middle of all of my Virginia friends. So we brought Didi home, and when we were there, I got to see JJ and Billy and Danny, which made my day. I think this is the best flight delay experience I've ever been a part of. And it's only bound to get better, because tomorrow I'm probably going to see Mimi and Mark and Becky and Steph (the VA one, of course) and Nate and other folks. Definitely very cool. In this one trip, if all goes as it seems to be going, I'll see my family, my VA friends, my cousin Becca in Boston, Jon and Andrew, and maybe other people - all in one relatively inexpensive trip. I am grateful.
Should be in Maine and on the road to my parents house in about 16 hours. But the weather in Maine around that time may be problemtatic. Time will tell. I will worry about that when I get to it. For now I will sleep, looking forward to seeing people tomorrow that I haven't seen since July. Not a horribly long time, I know. But these are really nifty people.
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12/24 7:25pm. North from Portland, on I-95
After dreams involving people that have roots that suck in evil water to turn them evil, and Ben commenting on how Sophie and Xenia are nice little girls, and Jolene belonging to an entirely different family, I woke up.
...To the sensation of a vibrating phone. I could hear it in my bag, vvvvv vvvvv vvvvv. After several "rings," I looked at the outer panel. It was an 800 number that I did not recognize. Whatever. I went back to sleep. I then woke up again in less than a minute to the sound of another vibration. Voiceemail. I listened to it, and found that it was an AI message from the airline, informing me that my flight the day before had been delayed, and that I had missed a connection. Thank you for calling me at 6:39am, United. I have nothing but gratitude for the customer service shown me by this gesture of information generousity. The recording also let me know that I had been booked for a 4:57pm flight to PWM - a fact with which I was already quite familiar. I rolled over and returned to slumber.
"Hey dude. We should probably get up soon," Ben said.
"What time is it?"
"Eleven thirty."
"Oh."
I greeted the rest of Ben's family that was home, and then Ben brought me to the Swistock's house. There I got to see Mark and Mimi for a brief amount of time. Indeed, I was only there for a brief amount of time, for we headed over to The Original Steakhouse of Ashburn. We had a delightful but brief Ben-mocking session on the way there. While there, Chris went on for a little while about his views on politics, economics, language, and culture. Becky was the voice of those annoyed by his overly polemic conversation choices. But I decided to stick it out and keep talking wit him instead of trying to shift the topic, and I think iI managed to handle it diplomatically.
Back to the Swistocks place for a little while. Steph and Josiah had me take some pictures of them, and I was very pleased to be sitting in their living room. They are my official Ashburn family, of course. But then back to the airport.
The auto-check-in kiosk failed me. I waited in line for a person, but he couldn't help either. He sent me to yet another custservrep, who succeeded in checking me in in under a minute. He wins the prize this time. Security was busy, but not a madhouse. I show less favor to Dulles than many other airports, because it is broken apart and it can take longer to get from one area to another than it would in an airport of similar capacity.
To my pleasure, the IAD>PWM flight was still scheduled as on time when I arrived at the gate, but apparently they overbooked the plane and were looking for volunteers to get off. Or maybe they just had a lot of standby folks waiting. I don't really know. But what I do know is that I was seated in the front row again. Not technically first class, but there was more footroom than the standard coach arrqangement. I was thinking of working on the language project a bit more, but I was too sleepy. Slept most of the flight. Allison and my parents were at the airport when I arrived.