Monday, July 24, 2006

Life is a highway.

Well, here I go again, on my own. Going down the only road I've ever known. Like a drifter I was born to walk alone. Oh wait, that is not me. I am not cool enough to be a White Snake song LOLOL. So DD has been packed away for the week, DH has the house to himself, and I am in Chicago. For some reason, I always think the drive will be too long. I mean, the flight is less than an hour! In that little world in my mind (that does not really exist but never mind that), that one hour flight takes one hour. You can be HERE at five o'clock, and THERE at six o'clock. In fact, with the time change, you can get there around the same time that you left. Pretty nifty. However, real life and flights don't really work that way. I always neglect to remember the hours spent on the way to and from the airport, checking in, security, waiting at the gate. Then waiting to take off, waiting on the plane after landing, waiting for bags at luggage claim. I know I know, smart people don't check luggage. Well, smart people don't have a suitcase AND briefcase and a bad back either. For that 47 minute flight, I had to leave the house 3 hours early (to make sure I could cross the border and get through airport security on time). Then it took the better part of an hour to deplane and wait for the luggage. Another 20 minutes waiting for transportation, and a good 30 minutes driving around because the driver had no idea where to go. He wanted me to give him directions. I can't give directions to my own house and I've lived in that city pretty much all my life. How can get him to a building I have never been to before in a city I have never driven in? Sure, I have been here before. But our branch moved, and I wasn't exactly paying attention as I was being chauffeured around. My cell phone was dead (he wanted me to call and ask directions), and he forgot to pay his bill so he couldn’t use his GPS thingy on it. It was like a circus, I tell you. But I finally made it here. And it only took about 6 hours. FOR A ONE HOUR FLIGHT. It wasn't a total waste though. I managed to get breakfast and knit the entire back of a baby sweater while I was waiting in the terminal. And we got to see security take down a guy that had been drinking all morning then got belligerent. Why do they open the bars so early in the airport? I'll never understand that. Did you know that when people get tackled, they have the most interesting look of surprise on their face? Just a note. If you ever get drunk early in the morning at the airport, don't make trouble. They don't kid around in airports any more. I also don't understand how I can be the first person in the airport practically, and still end up in a MIDDLE seat at the back of the plane. I have a sneaking suspicion that my company made that deal on purpose to save a few bucks on travel. The woman next to me bumped my arm so many times I feel bruised, and kept popping her gum. Hey. I think I may just have figured out why they open the bars so early in the airports… make it easier to take sitting in the middle seat at the back of the plane being bumped by 'blondie-gum-popper' the whole way. I was the last seating as well, and of course there was no space in the overhead bins by the time we boarded. My case fits under the seat usually, but the spot ahead of me had a pop can wedged at the front, so my case wouldn't go all the way under. Just in case you were wondering, it is not the most comfortable thing to be in the middle seat at the back of the plane being bumped constantly by 'blondie-gum-popper' while doing a demi-pliĆ© in first position (that there is a ballet reference. Impressed? Don't be. I had to look it up). No pictures today, just haven't had a chance to take any. But I do have the camera, so I might take some pics of the room and stuff. We'll see.

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