OK, I’m ready for the travel Karma god to smile on me and repay me for a hellish relocation to NYC with a phone call from Micahel Kors. I’ll take a new wardrobe and a swanky corner office please…
So remember when I said I had an even worse travel day flying out of Austin to New York….well, any travel day that turns into days can only end in tears and thoughts about attacking security personnel and running. I just had the tears.
I hope you like bullet points:
- I get to the airport in Austin in fine time. My 5:00 p.m. flight is delayed, but the curb-side check-in attendant, the dashing and distinguished Hayward, went inside and rebooked me on an earlier flight, also delayed.
- Going through airport security, the attendant has to scan my bag THREE times, removing half-assed bottles of perfume, a snow-globe I forgot about, hand cream. Apparently my bag was too dense for the 1-scan option. Who spends half an hour at security AFTER they’ve gone through the metal detector?!
- At the gate, all flights to ATL are delayed because of thunderstorms. I don’t leave Austin until 9:00 that night. My flight out of ATL is also delayed, so I’m especially excited to get on a plane only to go and sleep in a freezing cold airport gate.
- Up until I had to start making my bed out of a bunch of benches, I was fine. Then I got on the phone with the BF and starting my first sob-fest.
- Slept haphazardly and haltingly until 5:00 a.m. Conducted a Puerto Rican shower in a bathroom stall, then attempted to feel like a person with a Starbucks coffee and Sandwich. The coffee was perfect, and then the sandwich made me want to chock it all up. Starbucks, I love you, but buy some better ingredients; the ham and cheese on ciabatta is, currently, barf-central.
- I get to my gate for my 7:20 a.m. flight and start to fantasize about landing in New York in 2.5 hours. HA! We are delayed until 11:00 a.m. Apparently the thunderstorm that was in Atlanta has moved specifically to my next airport, La Guardia. Why, God? Whhhhhhyyyyyyyyy?!!
- Finally on the plane, and taxi-ing down the runway, we are fourth to take off. Less than five minutes later, all flights into La Guardia have been grounded. There is clearly a mofo conspiracy going on. There has to be.
- At this point, I start crying from exhaustion. I try to call my mother, don’t get her, so I decide to take my one-man sob show on the road, i.e. down the aisle to the nearest bathroom. The sobs flow, I finally get my mother and I beg her to tell me that I will live through this. She does. By the way, this is exactly how I looked crying in the bathroom. Exactly.
- Moving along…I sob for about 15 minutes in the bathroom, and then it’s back to my seat, where like the little drug-lover I am, I remember I have some Benadryl in my bag. The good kind. I sleep through half of the THREE HOURS we spend on the runway.
- After we exhaust the legal time limit, it’s back to the gate, where the flight is promptly cancelled. At this point I should have rented a bicycle. I really think I would have made it NYC before I actually did.
- We are re-directed to some other random gate to re-book our flights and the tension is high, people are breaking out into [verbal] fights, they’re arguing, ready to assault anyone who cuts in line. Well, when the line has 400 people – and I counted – you would almost murder someone too.
- At 3:30 p.m. – and let’s not lose sight of the timeline people, that would be hour number 23.5 being stuck in an airport – I am rebooked on a plane to DC[!], where I will then connect to La Guardia.
- I manage to finally escape ATL around 4:00 p.m., missed the flight they booked me on out of DC, thankfully it was a shuttle-type operation, and I was on the next one out by 6:30.
- At La Guardia I have to wait in a ridiculous line so that Delta can know where to deliver my bags, and then at last, I am in a taxi on the way to a warm bed and a hot bath at 9:30 p.m.
So let’s count, 29 hours of mofo travel!!!! And would Delta give a b*tch a sandwich?! They can the can’t do squat ’cause it’s weather and “not our fault”, but how about you give me a goddamn coupon for some fries!
Anyway, Michael Kors, I’ll be expecting your call.