Wednesday, May 14, 2008

In Which We Learn that I have Bad Travel Karma

So I'm stuck in the Cleveland Airport. This is either the start of a horrible joke (isn't my life just one big joke some times?), or just another tragic statement of reality...It turns out, I bear the worst travel karma of anyone else I know. Currently, I'm thanking my lucky stars that nothing has been cancelled, and nobody's asked me to (a) sit co-pilot, or (b) "step on the scale, please" before boarding my flight (yeah. More on that, later.). Clearly, it could be worse than a weather delay, right?

It seems appropriate to reflect on the travel, as I've now put a solid 1L year between this and my last "stuck in the airport" post. This side of the equation is a little less starry eyed, but, ironically, alot calmer. It seems that having had 1L year thrown in my face, dodging travel woes is a little less worrisome. It can't be worse than being on-call in crim, right? ("If you can dodge a can dodge a ball": this is a perfect metaphor for 1L year, by the way).

...The automated voice on the loudspeakers here did not have English as a first language, and places odd emphasis on odd is vaguely disconcerting, in dystopian/futuristic sort of way. Cleveland is an odd place.

Still: The good, the bad, and the ugly of today's foray into the jet-set lifestyle:

The Bad: Bad weather in Houston has caused all flights in & out to be delayed- I’m stuck in Cleveland, trying to get to Houston, and wondering if I’ll ever on to my final destination (oh, the glories of cheap student tickets). The terminal is bordering on riot status.

The Good: My gate is across from an airport bar named “Tequileria”- enough said, I think. Also, hilariously angry and self-righteous people to watch scream (shockingly, this has yet to make the thunderstorm in Houston go away), and a Very Peeved Stewardess With Microphone. Over my margarita & nachos, the following just blared:
“we have ONE LINE...I don't want anyone yelling at me. ONE LINE for the elite pass customers. No hollerin’, sir."
I, naturally, am not hollerin': I have nachos, a million kinds of tequila, internet access, and empathy.

The Ugly: The Cleveland airport. Oh, and they make their rent-a-cops wear plastic cowboy hats here….tee hee hee. Because clearly, THAT situation couldn’t be imbued with a little more ridicule.

Rock on.


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson