We're not the world's most experienced travelers, but we've been around the block a few times. Most days are pretty good, in our experience, if only because we're together, or we're with good friends or loved ones, or we're in exotic places. Some days aren't so great. I remember getting some pretty awful diarrhea the first time we were in Paris, and a pharmacist prescribing something that made it worse.
Today wasn't like either of those kind of days. It was up and down like Space Mountain. Meaning it was up and down and we felt we were in the dark for much of the day.
Bad Karma 1. The first thing was to discover that no matter where we looked, we couldn't find Marjorie's camera. She had been looking for it sporadically for awhile, but this morning we systematically turned the place upside down and couldn't find it. Anyone have odds on us finding it the day we get back?
Good Karma 1. On the other hand, we had a very quick and easy taxi ride to the airport, despite the First Avenue South bridge going up on our way. The driver, showing savvy, went around all the cars and found that the carpool lane over the bridge was nearly empty (we were like the seventh car in line).
Bad Karma 2. So we get to the airport, and the monitor says that the 10:30 flight (the one before ours) is delayed to 12:30), but lists our flight (also scheduled for 12:30) as ontime. Only the woman at the Alaska Airlines desk tells us that our flight is delayed, and that more information will be available at 12:45. In other words, they have absolutely no idea when it is going to leave. She was clicking on her keyboard for a long time (I assume trying to see if there was space on the delayed 10:30 flight), but ultimately just left us with the boarding passes.
Good Karma 2. The security line had only five people in it ahead of us. Although they actually took out our lunch, Marjorie thinks because the lettuce looked weird on the x-ray, we were through in 2 minutes.
Bad Karma 3. Our first stop after security is always the Dilettante. I had a bunch of completed punchcards (it takes a little over a week for me to fill it, what with "Double Punch Wednesdays" and all). So after we found a nice table, since we knew we'd be there for awhile, I asked Marjorie to take the punchcards and get us something. I asked for a dark mocha with orange essence and caramel. Unfortunately, the barista assumed that "caramel" meant caramel syrup, as opposed to caramel sauce, so the thing was way too sweet and nearly undrinkable. I did get to take the first picture of the trip. In March, it was a shot of the Dilettante that Helen turned into my birthday present (which she had turned into a mug from rehab in Spokane, believe it or not).
Now they have a new poster:
I kinda like the message.
Good Karma 3. We made our way down the concourse (the gate was at the end of the concourse; does anyone ever fly from the gates along the way to the end of the concourse? I certainly never have), and the flight showed it was loading. Only they didn't actually load it for ten minutes. Worried about our connection, I emailed our dear friend Cindy in Chicago to see if we could stay with her if we had to spend the night. When it finally did load, the flight was maybe 60% full, because I suspect everyone they crammed everyone they could on the prior, even more delayed plane. We ended up in an exit row, with a lot of legroom. And the plane was only about 50 minutes delayed pushing back.
Bad Karma 4. Unfortunately, the plane didn't take off for another twenty minutes. We just sat and sat and sat on the tarmac. No announcements, no nothing.
Good Karma 4. On Friday, I had taken a huge risk for me: I had started a 600 page novel, which I intended to take on the trip. Not just 600 pages, but 600 pages with small type on large format pages. I am a slow reader, and the book will take a long time to read, but the risk was that this big book might or might not be interesting. It was a slog on Friday and then on Monday on the bus to and from work, and I was still on page 29 when we left this morning. But the book turns out to be wonderful. It's called Seven Types of Ambiguity, by Eliot Perlman, and it's really, really interesting. There are seven different narrators giving different perspectives on what appears to be a combination of a child kidnap in Australia and a political fight over managed health care, with some infidelity and prostitution mixed in for good measure. I'm really enjoying the book.
Bad Karma 5. When the flight attendant came around for drinks, she decided for reasons I can't fathom, to hand both my orange and cranberry juice and Marjorie's water to her, and both full as could be, resulting in maybe a tablespoon of my juice to fall on the aforementioned book and then sort of all over me. I had to clean myself up, with the help of very few napkins. When liquids spill on planes, which I imagine happens more than once a day (foreshadowing), you'd think they would equip the flight attendants with more than flimsy napkins. You'd think that, but then you'd think a lot of things about how to run an airline that don't appear to be how airlines are actually run. Like not using phrases like "Further information at 12:45" instead of "delayed."
Good Karma 5. This was really the best karma of the day, because when we got to O'Hare, even though our flight was scheduled to depart as we were "deplaning", in fact we got out, read the monitor, made a mad dash to the gate, only to find the flight not only still there, but not yet boarding. Marjorie made a quick run to the ladies' room, and we got on. It was a tiny little plane, the kind where they make you tag your carryons, but we had seats and it was flying. Now if only the luggage made it, too.
Bad Karma 6. The guy in front of me never did put his seatback in its full upright and locked position for takeoff, or at any other time. Result: it was hanging over my tray table when the flight attendant came. I got some Dr Pepper (thanks, American Airlines) and then she came back and gave me the full can. And lo and behold, it spilled. First a little, then when I was trying to clean that up, I think the guy leaned back one more time and suddenly the whole thing was spilling. The whole front of my pants were soaked, my book was soaked, and some got on the foot of the woman behind us (the flight attendant seemed to think her feet were more important to get cleaned up than me). So I left the plane with sticky pants, and not in the way you're thinking.
Good Karma 6. Everytime we get to a baggage claim, I note that someone's bags have to be first off, so why not ours? I've been first and I've been last, and first is better. Of course, I've also been "not there at the baggage claim," and the place where this has happened more than anyone where else on the planet is Baltimore-Washington International Airport. So it was a nice surprise that we heard the baggage line start up as we got to the baggage claim, and the first bag off the belt was Marjorie's. And the rest of our bags came very quickly thereafter.
Bad Karma 7. It was a long line to get on the bus to the rental cars. There are two ways airports do this: either the rental car companies have their own separate buses, or the rental cars are all in one facility, in which case they share a single bus. When the companies are competing with one another, the drivers will help with your bags (and when you're leaving for five weeks, you have a lot of luggage). When there is just one bus, even at nearly 11 at night, the bus is packed and no one is helping with the bags. And since the people on the bus don't care either, the luggage racks are used very inefficiently. Result: we were standing, holding our bags in the aisle, while exactly two bags were in the top luggage rack, on their bottoms instead of on their sides. But this wasn't the bad karma of this part of the trip. We got to Avis (only Avis has a downtown dropoff point open on Sunday, and since I'm dropping off the car and taking the train to Philadelphia on Sunday, it made no sense to go to the airport to drop off a car, and then have to drive Mary's car back from the airport, so it pretty much had to be Avis), and there seemed to be only one person in line and two people behind the counter. Only it turned out that one of them was going on break or something. It is a pure 00's sense of customer service at a company like that that a "customer service agent" will make no eye contact with genuine customers when doing something like leaving on break. The whole time he was gone, the other agent was typing and typing and typing for the one customer ahead of me in line. But this wasn't the bad karma of this part of the trip. Finally, the other guy came back and it was pretty efficient getting to me. Now I swear he told me to go to R07 to get the car. We got into the car at R07, which had a nice spacious trunk, and drove to the exit. Only apparently our car was in R04. This necessitated me backing up, and the huge trunk turned into a detriment for this. And naturally cars were behind us, so we had to maneuver this boat around them. Then back the humungous thing back into the space it came from. And then--now the bad karma--get into a PT Cruiser. With all due respect to whomever designed this abortion of a vehicle, I note the following: the trunk is tiny; the seats fold down, but don't match the floor of the trunk, so the space with the seats folded down is actually less useful than if they weren't folded down; the stupid button door locks annoy me (yes, they were authentic for the era, but my Uncle Sam, who had a car with those buttons at one point, has been dead nearly 30 years); putting the controls for the windows on the dashboard is not only inauthentic (they ought to be hand cranks) but someone trying to find the window when already pretty damn frustrated and tired--and there was no manual in the car--is not likely to see them; and the damn thing has about as much pickup as a wheelchair. I take that back. That's unfair. It has less pickup than a wheelchair. It goes from 0-20 mph in about a minute. Downhill.
Good Karma 7. We got to the hotel. A nice man named Duncan both handled our bags and the car. The reception guy found my Hilton Gold MVP number and suddenly we have free breakfast. The room is nice. The internet is free, and will work for both our computers at once (Marjorie is hard at work on posting jobs, even though it's 1:30 am EST). I took a quick shower to get the Dr Pepper off me, and Marjorie made herself coffee and me a cup of tea. We're safe, and alive. And although I'd have loved to have seen Cindy, it turned out her train back from Quincy was late so we probably would have done nothing more than to crash anyway, and then have to get up for an early flight. Instead, we're here. Tomorrow, airlines willing, Phil arrives, and we'll see Mary (we're about four blocks from her--this is the Colonade Hotel on University Parkway) and Barbara tomorrow.
So Happy Thanksgiving, and good travel karma to all!
No comments:
Post a Comment