Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
A happy place of rolling green fields, where I can let my Snark off the leash to run free among the herds of Bewilderbeests, bringing down the slow and the stupid by the throat.
Feel free to give her a visit. View From the Porch
1.17.2007
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early flight
Well, I'm scribbling again, Matt, so hush.
I just returned yesterday afternoon from New York City. Say what you will about the city, my trip was fantastic. I had a great time, and cut a swath through the garment district that left a 4-square-block wake. ...then I had the honor of having to fly home. *grumble*
I left on Thursday. For reasons that were Not My Fault I had to fly through Chicago. In wintertime. I know what you're thinking...I got snowed in at O'Hare and had to sleep in the airport. You'd think wrong.
I flew to New York via Dallas, O'Hare, then LaGuardia. Amazingly enough, my luggage managed to hop, skip and jump across the country with no adverse effects (like spontaneous disappearance), even after an amazing series of gate changes. My friend, however, was clouded with bad travel karma. His luggage only had to go the last leg of the journey, but alas. Apparently, the shorter trips are worse. The luggage didn't make it. Ever. We left New York via Newark (the armpit of the universe) Monday morning, with only my bags in tow.
The Newark to O'Hare trip was surprisingly decent. The plane was only an hour late (rather than four, like the others), and we made it to Chicago in one piece. Then the party began.
The return trip was a direct flight home after Chicago, which was a GOOD THING, since OKC and Dallas were swarmed under by three inches of ice. The weather in Chicago was great for January, and life was excellent. Then they changed my gate. Twice. Now I'm sitting in the bowels of O'Hare waiting on a plane that is running late. Great. After two delays, we get on the plane. Whee! This is the only flight leaving for OKC, since they have cancelled all the other flights due to the ice sheet over the runway, and I'm on it! Hel-lo home.
We pile onto the plane (a very small jet--don't ask.), and the captain tells us that they have to de-ice the plane, etc. We sit for a while, then pretty soon back away from the gate. Wahoo! We may even leave Chi-town. Pretty soon all the power flickers, and the captain tells us that the plane de-icer messed up the engine and now it won't start. They are going to push us onto the tarmac for a jump start. Well, friends and neighbors, I don't think I like the sound of flying on an incredibly tiny jet for two hours on which half the engines had to be JUMP STARTED.
The jump didn't do the trick, so we were going to get dragged back to the gate. The car comes out, hooks up, starts to pull, and WHOMP! The line breaks. Great. Now we're stuck on the tarmac with planes backed up on either side of us, unable to get around. They send for a mechanic to come look at the wiring, and for some reason, he was unable to make it. The captain turned off the airplane, leaving us sitting with no light, no air, and no patience for about an hour.
Finally, everything conceivable has failed to roust the engine, so they decide to cancel the flight. No!!! This is the only one leaving, and now, it's not either. After about four hours on the plane, we get off and troop back into the bowels of O'Hare. Another hour in line for the agent to reschedule my flight and get me a room for the night...and it's 8:00. Had I rented a car when I get to O'Hare, I'd be almost home by now. *grumble*
My agent told me that I could fly into Denver, and could hopefully fly from there to OKC, but he wasn't sure about that leg yet... Let's think through the logic here: January-Winter. Denver-Mountains. Mountains-Winter-SNOW. Uh, no? I don't have much of a choice but to take the ticket, so at least I can leave Chicago--at 6:00 am Tuesday. Grr.
After hours on the phone at the hotel, I get my flight changed to Dallas. All is well. I get to Dallas, and the Oklahoma City plane is delayed, but I'm good. I'm on first class, and talking to a friendly Manhattanite who has a business in OKC. Finally the plane gets there, and we get on. Home at last.
I go to baggage claim, on the off chance that my bags actually made it past Chicago, and am faced with a sea of luggage. There are about 1000 suitcases spread throughout the lower floor, so I go through best as I can, and lo-and-behold, there's a bag. And it's really mine! So half my luggage is home.
I went back to the airport around midnight last night on the off chance that my other bag had been on the last flight in. Wonder of wonders, it was!!!!! Yay! Success!
I'm home (well, at work). My bags are home. I'm tired (and Chris, don't you say a word about sleep times!), and I wanna go home. Grumpy, sleepy, (and all the other dwarves), and the weather sucks. *grumble*
We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow this weekend to top it all off. If I get off work, I'm happy. If not, life sucks.
I just returned yesterday afternoon from New York City. Say what you will about the city, my trip was fantastic. I had a great time, and cut a swath through the garment district that left a 4-square-block wake. ...then I had the honor of having to fly home. *grumble*
I left on Thursday. For reasons that were Not My Fault I had to fly through Chicago. In wintertime. I know what you're thinking...I got snowed in at O'Hare and had to sleep in the airport. You'd think wrong.
I flew to New York via Dallas, O'Hare, then LaGuardia. Amazingly enough, my luggage managed to hop, skip and jump across the country with no adverse effects (like spontaneous disappearance), even after an amazing series of gate changes. My friend, however, was clouded with bad travel karma. His luggage only had to go the last leg of the journey, but alas. Apparently, the shorter trips are worse. The luggage didn't make it. Ever. We left New York via Newark (the armpit of the universe) Monday morning, with only my bags in tow.
The Newark to O'Hare trip was surprisingly decent. The plane was only an hour late (rather than four, like the others), and we made it to Chicago in one piece. Then the party began.
The return trip was a direct flight home after Chicago, which was a GOOD THING, since OKC and Dallas were swarmed under by three inches of ice. The weather in Chicago was great for January, and life was excellent. Then they changed my gate. Twice. Now I'm sitting in the bowels of O'Hare waiting on a plane that is running late. Great. After two delays, we get on the plane. Whee! This is the only flight leaving for OKC, since they have cancelled all the other flights due to the ice sheet over the runway, and I'm on it! Hel-lo home.
We pile onto the plane (a very small jet--don't ask.), and the captain tells us that they have to de-ice the plane, etc. We sit for a while, then pretty soon back away from the gate. Wahoo! We may even leave Chi-town. Pretty soon all the power flickers, and the captain tells us that the plane de-icer messed up the engine and now it won't start. They are going to push us onto the tarmac for a jump start. Well, friends and neighbors, I don't think I like the sound of flying on an incredibly tiny jet for two hours on which half the engines had to be JUMP STARTED.
The jump didn't do the trick, so we were going to get dragged back to the gate. The car comes out, hooks up, starts to pull, and WHOMP! The line breaks. Great. Now we're stuck on the tarmac with planes backed up on either side of us, unable to get around. They send for a mechanic to come look at the wiring, and for some reason, he was unable to make it. The captain turned off the airplane, leaving us sitting with no light, no air, and no patience for about an hour.
Finally, everything conceivable has failed to roust the engine, so they decide to cancel the flight. No!!! This is the only one leaving, and now, it's not either. After about four hours on the plane, we get off and troop back into the bowels of O'Hare. Another hour in line for the agent to reschedule my flight and get me a room for the night...and it's 8:00. Had I rented a car when I get to O'Hare, I'd be almost home by now. *grumble*
My agent told me that I could fly into Denver, and could hopefully fly from there to OKC, but he wasn't sure about that leg yet... Let's think through the logic here: January-Winter. Denver-Mountains. Mountains-Winter-SNOW. Uh, no? I don't have much of a choice but to take the ticket, so at least I can leave Chicago--at 6:00 am Tuesday. Grr.
After hours on the phone at the hotel, I get my flight changed to Dallas. All is well. I get to Dallas, and the Oklahoma City plane is delayed, but I'm good. I'm on first class, and talking to a friendly Manhattanite who has a business in OKC. Finally the plane gets there, and we get on. Home at last.
I go to baggage claim, on the off chance that my bags actually made it past Chicago, and am faced with a sea of luggage. There are about 1000 suitcases spread throughout the lower floor, so I go through best as I can, and lo-and-behold, there's a bag. And it's really mine! So half my luggage is home.
I went back to the airport around midnight last night on the off chance that my other bag had been on the last flight in. Wonder of wonders, it was!!!!! Yay! Success!
I'm home (well, at work). My bags are home. I'm tired (and Chris, don't you say a word about sleep times!), and I wanna go home. Grumpy, sleepy, (and all the other dwarves), and the weather sucks. *grumble*
We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow this weekend to top it all off. If I get off work, I'm happy. If not, life sucks.
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