Monday, December 20, 2004

Holiday Cheer Just Doesn't Translate to Flying

Jet Lag sucks. Due to the fact that it's 5:30 or so in the morning and I've been trying to fall back asleep for over an hour I decided to do something, and post about my trip and pretty much this is a warning that this might be the longest blog post in history. For me.

Essentially, my trip started Friday, and I decided to finally heed fucking Super Shuttle's time advice, even though it always gets you there wicked early and serious time to kill. Like who wants to do that in an airport which must have a tax that makes everything $5 more expensive than it should be? I digress, so despite the fact that my flight was a little past 7, those Super people wanted me to be picked up at 3;25 which I decided to edit to 3:50 and they give you that blah, blah your own risk lecture. I hung up the phone and became paranoid because of normal Friday traffic coupled with the fact that the airport could be crowded so I decide on a pick-up at 3;35. Which I am seriously glad for now. I was the first, and seriously I should sue Super Shuttle because no one else was ready, with one person giving the dude lip on the phone for being there so early, and it's like Shut It, Woman because it's the holiday season and there are obviously people in the van waiting for you, but overall means that they totally put me on the fucking wrong bus. I mean we first went to go pick someone up, waited 10 minutes then left without her, went to the next and waited and she actually came out, and it was pretty much rinse and repeat after that 3 more times, and then we circled to go pick up the girl who we left, and she was then standing on the curb. She was seriously pissed, as would I have been because she probably got that message about coming down and it must have been 45 minutes later. I was in that van for over an hour picking people up. Pissed was I. I should probably mention at this point that my tolerance was a little low due to the massive birthday celebration hang-over I was suffering from. Couldn't make it out of bed before 11 but that's a different story.

The airport, she was a clusterfuck. I couldn't do self check-in as my final destination was international and so luckily the line was relatively short which I'm thankful for now. As I was waiting, there were a gaggle of people suddenly behind me, and for some reason the line just was not moving. I don't know if people were incompetent or what. I mean I'm used to the international lines moving more slowly, but these lines just weren't moving. Clearly due to this, I could begin to hear noises of annoyance from the couple with a young baby behind me. I hate it when people are huffing and puffing at this point. I know that if it's close enough to your flight time that they will push you forward, or beg motherfuckers. I digress though. So as we're closer to the front the agent pushes this kid in and finally they are louder and start complaining to the couple behind them like they have the sob story of the century. She's all, we're going to Norway, I haven't been home in 2 years, and neither have her blah blah husband and baby, and this kid is getting in line, and no one is helping them, so fucking as for it bitch, and going on and on, and they had to travel the Jersey Turnpike and traffic blah. I wanted to be like, dude, if it's been 2 years and the Turnpike is known to a paved waiting line to hell, then you should have fucking left earlier! Or ask for help!! Sigh.

I enter the security line, and I believe that it may have been at this point where I realized that no one was really in the holiday spirit in traveling. Every one is talking about how they are about to miss their flight and jostling their way to the front. Which you know at this point, I understand, because the weekend before after a series of unfortunate events I was running late and I was hustling and pushing people over and asking to be let in front of line, well okay, only once and it was this slow girl who was very nice and let me in, so take that Shavonda from the Real World, and so I have time and I let people through. And I understand because Dulles is a serious motherfucking clusterfuck that is ridiculous to get through. Architect? Should be shot. So the next guy I let through is freaking out about his flight and is a fucking dumbass because he doesn't keep his boarding ticket out and he's holding the line up trying to find it. So then this dude behind me is like you need to go otherwise this person is going to miss his plane and just put your stuff through, which I did. I hope that guy found his flight.

So I'm waiting for my flight, paying too much money at the ATM for cash I didn't have time before to pick up, thinking about buying the Washington Nationals gear in the giftshop and selling it for a bonus on eBay, which is clearly too organized for me, and generally lounging. When I realize that my dinky plane to New York is carrying at least two European couples. Like who is their travel agent who can't get them a fucking direct flight or at least not farther away that the first? Fire them. So the British chick is talking to the dude who obviously wants to buy something while they wait and so she gets their cash out, and like I know these aren't the streets but maybe you shouldn't be waving your wad of cash in your baggie. Seriously filled with crisp 50s and 20s. Seriously thick wad. They are so going to get fucking robbed in New York. And then I notice there is a sugar daddy couple behind me. He's all so you want to see the tree all lit up, and what else, and something about windows being lit up, which I have no idea what she wants to see, but he's way too old for her. It's at this point that Aloof Co-Worker walks up and is all, where you going. Turns out he missed his flight to Boston and had to wait another two hours. Ha!

I'm also making deals with myself in my head at this point because I'm worried about my connections. Like I'll be happy if I can just get onto my flight in New York, it will be okay if I miss my connector, then like well if I do catch my connector I won't be upset if my bags don't make that connection either. So essentially I worried about this entire trip. Plus, who the fuck actually likes to fly?

So we get on our dinky plane with propellors, which, not really that awesome. I hate these types of planes. Always make me feel less safe but at least had two seats on each side and the one I had to fly to college only fit one person on each side. That was a tiny fucking plane, which I swear I once heard honking at an incoming plane. I digress. So this dude is talking in the aisle about how small it is and I wanted to be all, shut it, this ain't nothing. Clearly kept my trap shut. So then began the beggining of terrible co-seaters.

Now there are a few things. I have flown quite a bit for quite a few years and pretty much have never been stuck next to a hot, chatty guy. I once had a cute guy who said a few words but then his reading on the plane was a Bible. I shit you not. Which? No. So I am always hoping for that hotty who my friends always sit next to, or not next to the huge guy who snores and sleeps on you, which, I've been there.

So this guy is in the aisle and in this totally unecessary tone is "Excuse Me" motioning with his head to the seat next to mine. Now he's sort of cute but I can already tell and asshole. Plus, seriously, bland dresser. So he sits down next to me and already stars sighing. Like, back off motherfucker. So this entire flight he does this fidgeting and sighing, and groaning and then he does the most annoying thing ever. He starts unclasping his table and letting it drop and putting it back up. I mean not only is that annoying to me, but that must be annoying to the person whose chair it is as it's just free falling. Fucker. So then we land and he's still doing that and sighing and fidgeting. Like seriously, yes we had to wait on the runway which was giving me a coronary, and then we were taxing in NY for what felt like we were actually driving to New Yor, but you made your flight and it's pretty puntual. So, step off! I did sit across the teensy aisle from the sugar daddy people and he was actually charming in his own rogueish way. I've decided that there are two military types in terms of relationships, the major fucking assholes who are that way because whatever training they are given pretty much assures it, or the charming ones who are pretty decent and respectful, if not potentially conservative. So I could see why she liked this gregarious man who decided to chit-chat with me. Plus you could see in his earlier days he was probably really handsome and he still had a military body.

JFK Airport? Even more of a clusterfuck. Seriously awful. I studied environmental pszchology in college and we discussed signage and JFK would fail. Horribly. I had never been there and so I didn't realize that you had to leave the terminal and security of the terminal because it there were no SIGNS. No signs saying what airline was in what terminal. So I was trying to find my flight on the floor and essentially circling and freaking out because I'm running later for my international connection. And so I finally decide to go to the British Airways first class lounge where I ask the receptionists for help, and are both total Long Island girls and totally awesome and helpful. Thank you women, and fuck you JFK. So then I have to take the train from 7 to 1 and go through security again, like main security which luckily wasn't that crowded. Unfortunately though they decided they had to look through my bag because my perfume looked like a weapon. I know. But the guy was all loping and smiling and I'm like if you have to keep on putting it through, I'm sort of in a rush. And he was acting as if there wasn't a rush in the world and that is was weird that I seemed rushed. Plus. He was smug. Asshole. So I ran to my flight where it was delayed. And of course then I worry about my second connection.

And now my rant about international planes. As we finally begin boarding an entire small country on the plane, couldn't they make seats bigger in economy? I mean the seats are so close together, I had more leg room on my local flights, and the seats are bigger too. It seriously, seriously pisses me off. Plus it's so fucking uncomfortable, and you're still paying loads of money for these flights. So as I'm waiting in that, who the hell knows what the little loader aisle thing is called to the plane, this woman carrying a Louis Vuitton bag that should have been checked it was so massive was complaining about having to travel economy. And woe is her and her family that they had a flight in first class last night but something was wrong at LaGuardia and seriously I hate you woman. She kept on calling it a wooden box to her kids and is complaining. Shut IT, rich lady. I hate you and your pretentious ways.

So then I get to my seat where someone is already making themselves comfortable. I'm like, you're in my seat, thinking if they double-booked us someone is going to get killed and I'm not getting of this plane, and she gets up to show me after looking in her stuff that she is 36G and it's actually 34G and at that moment I wanted to cry because hers was such a better seat. It was the first row to the wall so no one's head with their fucking dandruff and bad smell is in your lap and you can hike your feet up against the wall and get comfortable. Most importantly though, there was no screaming child next to her.

The most dreaded of all co-passengers. Small, crying babies. In the same way there are those you need to be this tall to be a passenger on this ride, there should be the you should be this old to be on the plane. I fucking hate babies on the flight. And unfortunately this one was probably a year old, so more mobile and more vocal. The name Elena is fucking ruined for me. I mean it can't be a good sign when the baby is crying before you even squeeze yourself into your seat. And I overhear that it's her first flight. So we're taking off and the stewardess is like you need to strap her in and the mom's like she's too small and so Elena is in her mom's lap squealing. And fucking struggling. Kicking me in the process. Knocking me. Which, you know, whatever as long as she just shuts her trap. So after awhile she gets a bit better, but she's finicky and not afraid to be really vocal about it. So she falls asleep and everyone else is trying to fall asleep after they serve dinner. Which, my other rant is, why do they serve you a drink, with a snack that are essentially really small and then serve dinner right afterwards where you're thirsty obviously again with the awful plane food. And when you're two-thirds done they come by with another dinky cup. But when they were doing the first round I was tempted to get alcohol because it was free but then was like, dude my liver is still processing liquor from last night. So people, I'm officially not an alcoholic I say. But the mom doesn't take the cashews, but she will take the Gin and Tonic thank you very much. Awesome. Liquored up mom with bratty child. And she doesn't have dinner either but she didn't order more alcohol.

It's pretty much been a problem my entire life that I can't sleep on planes. I just can never find a position to suit me. Even when I used to travel with my sister all the time, she wanted to do the whole rest on me and I'll rest on you thing which I couldn't do and I would always have to bump her head off my shoulder. I know, I'm a bitch, but I couldn't stand it in such closed spaces. Plus, it's my sister. And so I forgot my little neck pillow but was starting to sort of sleep through Around the World in 80 Days, Fuck You Lufthansa and your crappy programming, and here was the miracle of sleep when the fucking child is doing something and her mother is trying to restrain her and she fucking knocks me hard with her head and wakes me up, and I can't fall asleep again. Fuck you Elena, and fuck your mom too. For some reason I swear they are making their planes smaller. When I was walking/running through Frankfurt to catch my connection my muscles were so very sore in my knees. This had never happened before.

I was feeling gross, because seriously hours later, but I did make my connection and suddenly I was like my bags BETTER fucking be there rather than just joyful I made all my connections. And the plane had more leg room. I was so annoyed. Needed it sooner assholes. But at least the middle seat was free for the last hour and so leg, and I was able to get home safely. It seems an hour and 20 minutes really is all you need to make a connection.

Now, Jet Lag. I hate it. I'm going to be so grumpy later today.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow girl. You sound like an angry Bridget Jones! I love it. And you said you had nothing to talk about....
Hope your BIRTHDAY PT 2 went well, and glad you finally made it there. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! And I'll seriously miss you on New Years.

Caren said...

The Real World reference made me bust a gut laughing.

You'll have to fill me in on who Aloof Co-Worker is when you get back.

Have a great Christmas!!!