Yesterday started as a normal last day of
vacation BlogHER 2012. I mean,the vacation conference was clearly over, and a simple day of travel was what was on the agenda.
It started with a woozie cab ride through Manhattan to LaGuardia airport, where upon arrival, Casey lost her cookies, and my breast pump was given a body cavity search. But nonetheless, the day was looking up, and it appeared to be business per usual.
An uneventful flight took us from NYC to beautiful Washington DC. From what I can tell, DC looks lovely and I want to go back.
But friends, my adventurous zest for travel was crushed in our nations capital. You guys, it was horrific. I’ll give you the quick and dirty:
1. Casey, Shireen and I boarded our Washington DC flight, and the plan was for it was to bring us back to the beautiful land of Indiana in less than 90 minutes. We got on the plane, and we sat. And then we sat for an hour. Oh, then another hour. And lastly, the better half on another hour. Almost three hours in, our flight was cancelled because of weather.
AFTER SITTING ON A PLANE FOR 3 HOURS, THE FLIGHT WAS CANCELLED.
In their defense, it rained 3 raindrops and a really big brown cloud passed overhead. Clearly reason to abandon flight.
2. We get off the plane, immediately call US Airways (yes, that’s the lovely company we were flying with) and try to re-book. I get a flight to Charlotte, North Carolina, but my girls Casey and Shireen were not so lucky. I leave my besties and run to the next gate, where my flight is set to take off within the hour.
3. I sit on my next plane, still in DC, for another hour. When the flight finally takes off, the ride is uneventful. The only slight problem was that the plane landed only 13 minutes before my next flight (to Indy! Woo Hoo!) was to leave. The flight attendant assures me that I have time, because the gates are only steps away from each other. We dock at what she said was C13, and I needed C19.
4. I get off the plane, and realize we’re not in concourse “C”, we’re in concourse “D”. Yep, It’s time to be that person. The person who takes off her flip flops, hauls ass running though the airport yelling at stranger to move out of the way. Friends, I deserve a gold metal for people hurdling or something. I honestly jumped over a hipster on his iPhone. Looking back, I ran from the very farthest point in concourse C, to the very farthest point in concourse D, in a matter of 10 minutes. I also sprained my ankle and pulled a muscle in my calf.
Related: I really need to start running again.
5. I get on the plane, sit down in the very last seat on the bird, and realize it’s next to the meanest, douchest dude in First Class. He drinks (3) beers and is clearly annoyed he’s sitting next to a strung out 30-somthing year old hyperventilating chick who’s obviously not paid for her upgraded seat.
6. I finally make it to Indianapolis, after 13 hours of travel. I have no luggage, I hadn’t pumped my boobs in over 8 hours, but I was home. I take a $50 cab ride home with a serial killer in the dead of night, and live to tell.
I’m tired but thankful. Remember my friends Casey and Shireen? At the time this post was publish, they sill were stuck in DC, maybe Philly if they’re lucky. I’m sure they’ll blog about their take on the situation, assuming they live to tell about it.
Funny side note: My carry-on luggage had to be run through the x-ray machine 3 times. My breast-pump got violated, but my full-sized bottle of Dolphin Organic lotion was never detected.
I think their new tagline should be: So natural, even TSA can’t detect us.
I can laugh about it now, but yesterday I’ll admit to doing the ugly cry into an overpriced burrito somewhere around gate C40. There is nothing friendly about flying.