You Can't Get There From Here

Wednesday, July 27, 2011 | 0 Comment(s)

I cant pretend like I didn’t kinda abandon you, people who are kind enough to read my rantings on a somewhat regular basis.  I mean, writing that last entry (bad place much?) and then cutting out for my longest blogcation with no warning was a little dick.  And I apologize.  Life happens, and in this case I needed to divest from the blog for a week or two in order to get where I am now . . . which is paradise.  My first vacation with mmf in over a year.  Aaaaaaaaand, lucky for you all, before flying down to the island, we first took an excursion to Chicago Il/Fort Wayne IN, for a friend’s wedding.  And that, my friends, is where blog entries are born.  Lots of em. 

This is the story of our 18 hr. trip from Chicago to St John. 

There are some days that just are born to be no good.  I have found that across the board, days that begin with my alarm going off (correctly) at 5am immediately throw themselves toward this category.  I’m not saying that every time I have woken that early has been a horrific nightmare.  I once woke that early to hike Mt. Masada to see the sun rise.  That was beautiful.  I also woke up at a similar time to watch the sun rise over the grand canyon.  Also beautiful.  

I’m seeing a pattern.  Perhaps my original statement should go like this:  Any day I am woken at 5 am not to watch a sunset is very likely a no good very bad day.  And I will say that usually one of these days (such as the one I am writing this very long introduction to) is juxtaposed by the day following, which more than not is spent in whatever wondrous local I deemed worth suffering the indecency of the previous morning for.  But somehow, in the moment of eyes at half mass, stumbling like a drunken zombie looking for clean underwear, fog filled confusion, I just don’t have that perspective.  I am not a morning person (unless you consider 11am morning, in which case im pretty ok).

On with the show.  Mmf and I wake in my college roommates bed on the south side of Chicago.  Said ol roomy is in his own little slice of post-doc hell, and conveniently his gf lives a mere 2 blocks from his office.  So in my mind, at 6am, when he finishes his daily torture, he kinda lets gravity and exhaustion and his gf’s beauty, tractor-beam his body down the steps of his building and into her bed.  Said gf is insane and wondrous enough to volunteer to pick us up at 5:30am and lug our asses to Ohare.  She either things im insane funny or really loves my old roommate.  The good money is on the later. 

Four zombies drive a bad ass Chevy Caprice (it looks like a futuristic cannon) on the swerving death trap which is the airport road.  I check my phone for emails on the way, mostly out of reflex.  Groupon Groupon Orbitz Orbitz.   UH-OH.  Both Orbitz emails explain our flight is delayed . . . and then further delayed.  The later email has us delayed well past our connecting flight, in Charlotte, to the islands.   An email that essentially says “you could have woken up 2 hours later, been more well rested, and still not made your flight today sucka!”   Least that is how I read it.

I slide my credit card into the self-check in machine and the computer spits back a “you have been rebooked on a later flight.  See below for details.”  Below, there are no details.  Literally blank.  Assistance please?  Us Airways man #1 tells me that we have been rebooked for our same flights the following day, (Unacceptable) and that we should go wait in the line to the left for further assistance.  Wait #1.  When we get to the front of said line US Airways woman #1 tells us that the best she can do (and she seems to genuinely be looking to help us—foreshadowing people) is to send us on our original flight to Charlotte, then connect us to a flight to Miami, and then connect us to a AA flight to the island.  She realizes how sub-optimal this is, but tries to ease the burden of reality by letting us know we are probably one of the few people getting to our destination the same day.  Not really a huge consolation at that moment.  She did give us exit row seats on the Char à Miami flight however, though not in the same row. 

I had to ask.  What is causing this mayhem?  What vile beast of destruction is reeking havoc on our travel plans.  I should have known better.  I really should have.  Knowledge is not always power.  Sometimes knowledge just pisses you the hell off.  There are sandstorms in Phoenix, she says.    I think to myself, “I don’t give a shit about phoenix (though I do have my papers on me just in case).  I’m not headed to Phoenix, not headed even in the cardinal direction of Phoenix and overall phoenix can pretty much suck my balls.  (this is not to say that I am happy that they are covered in sand of course).

Why the hell should weather in phoenix be an acceptable reason for ruining my travel day with no compensation?  Of course she explains that our plane is coming from phoenix and a delay out, means a delay in, means my day sucks.   This continues to piss me off (on the inside—this woman was just doing her job and obviously has no policy control).  Hell, does ANYONE have policy control on the airlines.  I mean, what if I tried this in my occupation.  Sorry doctor so and so, I was going to present my dissertation today, but my cousin in Chicago has the flu, so it’s a no go.  I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fly (travel pun!!!!).  Sorry surgery patient, I was going to perform this procedure on you but the hospital in Albuquerque is experiencing a power outage, so were going to cancel.   It just seems like bullshit that the excuse that you aren’t compensated for your travel troubles if there is nasty weather pretty much anywhere in the country, seems super lame.  

Things actually got worse after we went through security  . . . but that is to be continued.  (I promise there will be many blogs coming now that I have control of my time once again.  Stay tuned and bring a friend.)

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