Homeward bound, pt. 2
When I got to the gate to get my boarding pass, they were desperately, desperately soliciting volunteers. Like, they're already up to $500 and a hotel stay. So I call my loving husband and ask him if it's okay if I volunteer. He says yes, even though we miss each other far more than you would think for just two days. I volunteer and hang out waiting with a nice couple from St. Paul. As near as I can tell, the flight is overbooked by about 15. Silly people.
Once they get the flight off, they call us up to the desk. They have upped the offer to a $600 voucher, meals, and a hotel room. Woot! I dicker to get a voucher for lunch the next day, since I don't have much cash on me (sadly) and I'll want lunch if I'm not getting in until 6 in the evening.
Armed with about a thousand valuable flimsy sheets of paper, I go back through security. I decide to eat dinner in the airport, since I don't know if other restaurants will believe my voucher. I pick the nicest restaurant I see -- you get to sit down. There are menus. It's sort of across the concourse from the art gallery. (No, really, they have an art gallery in their airport, and art scattered other places) Dinner is okay, but not great. When I ask for a quesadilla, I do not expect fajita goo slathered on cheese. Wacky me. But I get food.
Then I go downstairs and spend about half an hour figuring out where and how to dial for my little hotel shuttle. I go outside to wait, and it is just a beautiful evening, the kind of night we only start having in late May.
The shuttle driver is southern and chatty. We have a fabulous old conversation about Phoenix, the art, the roads, the retirees, the airport, and private jets. It was fun.
He dropped me off, I waved flimsy paper at the helpful desk clerks, and got a room. At this point, I am profoundly grateful that I got everything into a carry-on, since I'm not missing luggage. Although I did miss a day of antibiotics. Doh. They tell me about breakfast, and I go upstairs to my room. This involves going through the courtyard, which has a swimming pool open to 11, with tiki torches all around it. Now I am very very regretful that funeral packing did not trip my 'take the swimsuit' reflexes. Sniff. 75 degrees.
So I get up there, and it's HUGE. First, there's a living room with a couch and two chairs and a big tv. Then there's a kitchenette, with a fridge and microwave and stuff. Then there's a big-ass bedroom with two beds, a large mirror, and a reasonable bathroom off it. Wow! Now here is a hotel room crying out for a party.
I call silmarian, and am all mushy at him, and extract phone numbers from him. Did I mention the wistful mushiness? I have two phone numbers: azurelunatic and Vi, who is a sweetie of a sweetie. It's now 8 PM. So I call Azz, and try to coax her to bring her friends and have a party at my place. I figure that Vi would go to sleep on a Sunday night, being as how she has a grown-up job. College students are always willing to stay up, right? Sadly, the gods of transportation were against us. (sniff) Instead, we stay up a long time talking local on the phone and chatting and laughing. Suddenly, I'm all out of energy. Goodnight.
I manage to set up a wake-up call, since I am unclear on what time it is. No daylight savings for them. Then I zonk out. Note for the future: high threadcount sheets are sooooo luxurious. Yum.
The phone rings at 6:30. Ng. I haul my sorry ass out of bed, pack up, and go down and get a nice hot breakfast cooked to order. That was nice. Everyone there is so tan. It's very odd. That and the universal spanish literacy. We live in such a white state. Get on the shuttle and head back to the airport.
Oh. My. God. The lines. I hadn't hit any particularly bad lines until now. I spent an hour in various wrong ticketing lines before someone told me that I could check in at the gate even though I had a weird voucher-ticket. I did get to closely examine a cool cape made out of paper bead and embroidery. Then there was the line for security. Oy. OY! I kid you not -- it was 150-200 yards long. They would go through every once in a while and rescue people whose planes were leaving in the next half hour, and run them through a separate line. I was just too far up in the line to get rescued. But I made it through clean this time, yay!
Then I zipped down and got my ticket, and got on the plane. I had been hoping to sleep, but no joy. On the bright side, I got to see the Grand Canyon, and that was cool. I was flying into St. Louis instead of MSP, so it was a different route, slightly.
Arrived in St. Louis starving, and blessed myself for the foresight that led me to get a lunch voucher. Grabbed lunch, let husband know I was okay, and checked in. Now I'm on a Northwest flight. They warn me that since the rebooking is so recent, I'll get extra security screening. Fine.
The extra screening was no big deal, but I didn't think it was hugely thorough. Got on the plane, and we weren't much delayed by the thunderstorms. We set down at about 5:30, I called my loving snoogywoogybuns, and he came to rescue me. Yay.
It's so good to be home. We sleep less well alone, so we both went to bed ridiculously early. Happy sigh.