SEE AMERICA, BY ACCIDENT
As many of you may know (and many more may not), my beloved agent, Daphne Unfeasible, lives in Denver. This is a fairly recent development. She was your standard, high-powered fancy New York agent—and then she met the dashing Rexroth Implausible and decided to merge their empires. She now runs Unfeasible Enterprises from her mountain stronghold in Denver.
As it ALSO happens, Daphne, ever the professional agent, was born 36 hours before me (to get the lay of the land and set up some deals). In fact, many of us have birthdays at the same time—including Rexroth, and our friend J. Krimble. It has often been our tradition to spend our birthdays together. This year, Daphne suggested that we do so in Denver.
So yesterday morning, J. Krimble, his female companion Pixie Potpie, and I all headed off to the airport to catch what was supposed to be an easy set of flights to Denver—one from New York to Chicago, and then another from Chicago to Denver a few minutes later. We had attempted to get a non-stop flight, but it turns out MANY PEOPLE wanted to come to Denver when we did, and we thought, what’s a quick transfer between planes?
And so, our story begins.
WELCOME TO CHICAGO
“I’ve never been to Chicago,” I said, as we came in over Lake Michigan. “They say your first trip to Chicago is always the best. Doesn’t Lake Michigan look like the BELLY OF AN ENORMOUS DRAGON from the plane?”
“I’ve been to Chicago once before,” Pixie said.
“Oh,” I replied. “Well, they say that your second trip to Chicago is always the worst.”
J. Krimble was looking at his watch in concern.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “Technically, we have forty minutes to make the connection, but we’re almost fifteen minutes late.”
“What are you worried about?” I asked. “It’s not like they would sell us a ticket if it was impossible to make the connection. This was the suggested route. The airline PLANNED this trip!”
“Right!” Pixie said. “And we have, what, twenty minutes to get over there? And they know we’re supposed to be on the plane.”
When we landed, the automatic status alert text I had signed up for blipped on to my phone.
“Here we go,” I said, feeling very efficient. “Gate B29.”
“B29?” J. Krimble said. “We just passed that gate. It’s, like . . . WAY over there. It’s going to take us forever to get there. We’re going to have to run.”
I didn’t really believe this, and neither did Pixie. We truly believed that United Airlines had our backs. (I did mention that this was UNITED AIRLINES, right? I really want to get that fact across.)
But we agreed, mostly to appease the worried J. Krimble, that we would all run over to our new gate. And run we did! All the way across Chicago airport, through an amazing connecting hall with pastel glowing walls and a rainbow of rippling, disco-like lights overhead. I wanted to stay and do some dancing, but was dragged on. We ran and ran and ran. We ran along moving sidewalks, and up escalators, and were rewarded by getting to our gate a full ten minutes early. All three of us ran up to the desk and said, “HiweareherefortheflighttoDenver.”
And the woman behind the counter tipped her head to the side and regarded us in the same way dogs do when you make an interesting noise.
“Oh, that plane is gone,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Five little words, delievered without the slightest amount of care, applied with the light touch like the hand of the fairies as they paint on the morning dew. Oh, that plane? Is gone! Tra la la!
For a moment, we could not process this information. “But . . .” we said, holding out our tickets. “But . . . we have these tickets.”
Because we didn’t just . . . evaporate, the woman was forced to take a better look at us and accept our presence.
“It left ten minutes early,” she said, not without a touch of pride. Look at the good job we at UNITED AIRLINES have done today!
“It WHAT?”
“And it was oversold,” she added, as if implying that we would NEVER have been on that plane, even though we were fully ticketed passengers. As if we should have known better.
“But . . . “ we said. “But . . . we have these tickets.”
She glanced at the tickets out of politeness and gave us slips of paper that more or less said the following: IT APPEARS THAT YOU HAVE PURCHASED ONE OF OUR “TICKETS”! SOMETIMES, WHEN WE AT UNITED AIRLINES SELL YOU A TICKET, IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT WE WILL ACTUALLY PUT YOU ON AN AIRPLANE. IF YOU LIKE, YOU CAN TAKE THIS TO CUSTOMER SERVICE, WHERE ONE OF OUR REPRESENTATIVES WILL ASSIST YOU IN THE PROCESS OF SUCKING IT.
“There’s an 11:09 to Denver,” the woman added. “But you probably won’t make that either. We board in a few minutes, and it’s way oversold. It’s always oversold.” Tra la la!
So we ran all the way to customer service, where we got in a big, long line. While waiting in the big, long line, we had time to process that information. The customer service woman was in a good humor, and seemed to regard our problem as a pleasant dilemma, not unlike a brain teaser.
“Oh, you’ll never make THAT flight,” she said with a smile. “ALL the flights to Denver are sold out. Oversold.”
“But . . .” we said, holding out our tickets and pieces of paper. “But . . . we have these tickets and pieces of paper.”
She took the tickets and pieces of paper.
“Oh, see,” she said. “You didn’t have seat assignments for Denver.”
“They wouldn’t give us seat assignments for Denver,” J. Krimble said.
“Your seats were on standby,” the woman said, still smiling.
“We weren’t standby,” I said. “We bought these tickets months ago. These are full tickets. We were promised seats. On the airplane. To Denver. It’s not our fault that your computer wouldn’t assign us a seat, or that the plane took off ten minutes early, or that the other plane was ten minutes late.”
But I said it nicely, because there is no reason to be rude! But this was all true. We were not standby passengers. We were three people who were supposed to be on their way to Denver.
“I KNOW you aren’t standby,” she said. “But you HAD NO SEATS.”
I ask you, readers. What do you do with that?
“Now what I CAN do,” she said happily, “is put you all on a plane to Tulsa.”
“A plane to TULSA?” I repeated.
Tulsa, for those of your unfamiliar with American geography, is in Oklahoma. Which is not anywhere near Denver, Colorado. It’s not even in the area of Denver, Colorado. So I wasn’t entirely sure why she would think we would be happy about going there. But it seemed like there was a possible plane we could get on in Tulsa that would take us to Denver.
There was no apology offered in any of this—it was all offered as if this was a kind of bonus. “Six more hours of travel!” she was suggesting. “A trip an airport in Oklahoma!”
We asked her what the alternative was, and she made it more or less clear that either we were going to go to Tulsa, or we were going to live in the Chicago airport.
We said we would go to Tulsa. New tickets and pieces of paper were produced.
“Can we sit together?” J. Krimble asked.
“No,” the woman replied. “But this plane to Tulsa is so small, you’ll PRACTIALLY BE ON TOP OF EACH OTHER.”
Our Tulsa tickets required us to go over to F terminal, reachable by a tiny shuttle that looked like it had been produced in Stalinist Russia—grim and gray, with foam popping out of the seats. F terminal didn’t seem as loved as B or C terminal. Our best option to grab some food was a very angry sandwich shop where they threw together some sandwiches that exploded in the bags.
“I feel like they just don’t care,” I said, looking at the total collapse of my sandwich. It had exploded to pieces in the bag. “It’s just a bag of sandwich now.”
“Would you like one of your birthday presents now?” J. Krimble asked.
I said I would. A small wrapped object was placed on the table.
“I would give you yours,” I said, “but it is on its way to Denver.” This was true. I had checked my bag, but inside, there were birthday presents for everyone. I wondered if I would ever see it again. Then I unwrapped my present, only to find this!
Yes! The Unauthorized Biography of Robert Pattison, star of Twilight!
I stared at the book for a moment and flipped through the very unauthorized photographs.
“This is wonderful!” I said. “Now I am going to read this to you. Let’s begin . . .”
SCENE: CHICAGO AIRPORT, A CROWDED GATE
It was Pixie’s turn to read. J. Krimble was looking moderately suicidal. We were on page 15.
“Please stop,” he said.
“No, no,” I said. “This is my birthday present. We are going to read it. Please continue, Pixie.”
“This book is like, fifty pages long,” J. Krimble protested. “And forty of them are about the filming of Twilight. And thirty of them are about his HAIR.”
“Yes,” I said happily. “That is why I like it.”
“Listen to this,” Pixie said, reading, “Rob’s nicknames are: ‘Rob, Patty (what his friends call him), RPattz (what fans call him—though he thinks it sounds ‘like an antacid pill’), Spunk Ransom (long story!)”
“Spunk Ransom?” I said. “I want to hear a story that ends up with you getting the name ‘Spunk Ransom.’ I want to hear it right now.”
“Next fact,” she said, reading on. “‘If he weren’t an actor, Rob would be: a pianist (or Jack Nicholson).’”
“There’s already a Jack Nicholson,” I replied. “Maybe Jack Nicholson is just a job you can have. Maybe Rob Pattison will be the next Jack Nicholson!”
“It also says he doesn’t like children, and it says there’s a picture where it looks like he wants to eat a baby. There are a lot of exclamation points in this book . . .”
J. Krimble put his head on his knees.
The woman at the desk wasn’t lying about the size of the plane. We had to duck to get inside, and the jetway was two feet long. In the front, a very precious little girl was talking to her father.
“I’ve named the plane!” she said, in her adorable little girl voice. “I’m named it AMELIA!”
I turned to look at J. Krimble, who crammed in a few seats behind me. He mouthed the words: NO THAT IS A BAD NAME FOR A PLANE.
I opened my Rob Pattison book for a moment, then put my head back and . . . .
zzzZZZZZzZzZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
SCENE: TULSA AIRPORT
I was very groggy when we landed.
“Why are we in Oklahoma?” I asked.
“Because United Airlines hates us,” J. Krimble said.
We had LOTS OF TIME to kill in Tulsa airport, so we wanted to see all we could. The first thing we saw was a police guard at the women’s room right at our gate. We watched as a small team of policemen took a sniffer dog inside.
“Tulsa is exciting,” I said.
We decided almost immediately that we liked Tulsa, largely because they had a large display of these shirts:
But looking at t-shirts could only entertain us for so long, so I pulled out my new book.
CAN ANYONE RESIST?
When they finally called our flight, J. Krimble went up to make sure we were actually on it.
“Is this plane really full?” he asked. “Can we sit together?”
“Oh,” the woman at the counter laughed. “It’s SO full. It’s . . . 101% full.”
“That is one percent more full than it should be,” J. Krimble said, politely.
We all got middle seats. I took a picture mid-flight to commemorate the moment:
ME
And so . . . many hours and states later, we arrived in Denver. And there was Daphne, waiting for me.
We were immediately struck by the fact that they had a carosel for normal bags, and then another one with long, tall compartments, perfect for a person to ride in standing up! I ran for this, but Daphne caught my arm.
“No,” she said. “For skis.”
“But . . .”
“For skis.”
I walked past, sadly . . . every moment twitching to hop on board and ride around. We went off searching for my bag at the baggage service desk.
“Oh yes,” they said, “it’s right there, in the middle of the floor.”
United Airlines, faithful to the last, had left my unattended bag in the middle of the floor for what I assume was about six hours.
So, if you are considering a trip across the country, why not try UNITED AIRLINES?
Now that we have recovered, I resume work on the BLOG OF LOVE, which I hope to post TOMORROW. Thank you all who sent in your romance questions. I study them now, and hope to provide you with the very best of advice for your Valentine’s Day. If you have any questions to get in at the last minute, please ask, and I will certainly try to address them.
As it ALSO happens, Daphne, ever the professional agent, was born 36 hours before me (to get the lay of the land and set up some deals). In fact, many of us have birthdays at the same time—including Rexroth, and our friend J. Krimble. It has often been our tradition to spend our birthdays together. This year, Daphne suggested that we do so in Denver.
So yesterday morning, J. Krimble, his female companion Pixie Potpie, and I all headed off to the airport to catch what was supposed to be an easy set of flights to Denver—one from New York to Chicago, and then another from Chicago to Denver a few minutes later. We had attempted to get a non-stop flight, but it turns out MANY PEOPLE wanted to come to Denver when we did, and we thought, what’s a quick transfer between planes?
And so, our story begins.
WELCOME TO CHICAGO
“I’ve never been to Chicago,” I said, as we came in over Lake Michigan. “They say your first trip to Chicago is always the best. Doesn’t Lake Michigan look like the BELLY OF AN ENORMOUS DRAGON from the plane?”
“I’ve been to Chicago once before,” Pixie said.
“Oh,” I replied. “Well, they say that your second trip to Chicago is always the worst.”
J. Krimble was looking at his watch in concern.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “Technically, we have forty minutes to make the connection, but we’re almost fifteen minutes late.”
“What are you worried about?” I asked. “It’s not like they would sell us a ticket if it was impossible to make the connection. This was the suggested route. The airline PLANNED this trip!”
“Right!” Pixie said. “And we have, what, twenty minutes to get over there? And they know we’re supposed to be on the plane.”
When we landed, the automatic status alert text I had signed up for blipped on to my phone.
“Here we go,” I said, feeling very efficient. “Gate B29.”
“B29?” J. Krimble said. “We just passed that gate. It’s, like . . . WAY over there. It’s going to take us forever to get there. We’re going to have to run.”
I didn’t really believe this, and neither did Pixie. We truly believed that United Airlines had our backs. (I did mention that this was UNITED AIRLINES, right? I really want to get that fact across.)
But we agreed, mostly to appease the worried J. Krimble, that we would all run over to our new gate. And run we did! All the way across Chicago airport, through an amazing connecting hall with pastel glowing walls and a rainbow of rippling, disco-like lights overhead. I wanted to stay and do some dancing, but was dragged on. We ran and ran and ran. We ran along moving sidewalks, and up escalators, and were rewarded by getting to our gate a full ten minutes early. All three of us ran up to the desk and said, “HiweareherefortheflighttoDenver.”
And the woman behind the counter tipped her head to the side and regarded us in the same way dogs do when you make an interesting noise.
“Oh, that plane is gone,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Five little words, delievered without the slightest amount of care, applied with the light touch like the hand of the fairies as they paint on the morning dew. Oh, that plane? Is gone! Tra la la!
For a moment, we could not process this information. “But . . .” we said, holding out our tickets. “But . . . we have these tickets.”
Because we didn’t just . . . evaporate, the woman was forced to take a better look at us and accept our presence.
“It left ten minutes early,” she said, not without a touch of pride. Look at the good job we at UNITED AIRLINES have done today!
“It WHAT?”
“And it was oversold,” she added, as if implying that we would NEVER have been on that plane, even though we were fully ticketed passengers. As if we should have known better.
“But . . . “ we said. “But . . . we have these tickets.”
She glanced at the tickets out of politeness and gave us slips of paper that more or less said the following: IT APPEARS THAT YOU HAVE PURCHASED ONE OF OUR “TICKETS”! SOMETIMES, WHEN WE AT UNITED AIRLINES SELL YOU A TICKET, IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT WE WILL ACTUALLY PUT YOU ON AN AIRPLANE. IF YOU LIKE, YOU CAN TAKE THIS TO CUSTOMER SERVICE, WHERE ONE OF OUR REPRESENTATIVES WILL ASSIST YOU IN THE PROCESS OF SUCKING IT.
“There’s an 11:09 to Denver,” the woman added. “But you probably won’t make that either. We board in a few minutes, and it’s way oversold. It’s always oversold.” Tra la la!
So we ran all the way to customer service, where we got in a big, long line. While waiting in the big, long line, we had time to process that information. The customer service woman was in a good humor, and seemed to regard our problem as a pleasant dilemma, not unlike a brain teaser.
“Oh, you’ll never make THAT flight,” she said with a smile. “ALL the flights to Denver are sold out. Oversold.”
“But . . .” we said, holding out our tickets and pieces of paper. “But . . . we have these tickets and pieces of paper.”
She took the tickets and pieces of paper.
“Oh, see,” she said. “You didn’t have seat assignments for Denver.”
“They wouldn’t give us seat assignments for Denver,” J. Krimble said.
“Your seats were on standby,” the woman said, still smiling.
“We weren’t standby,” I said. “We bought these tickets months ago. These are full tickets. We were promised seats. On the airplane. To Denver. It’s not our fault that your computer wouldn’t assign us a seat, or that the plane took off ten minutes early, or that the other plane was ten minutes late.”
But I said it nicely, because there is no reason to be rude! But this was all true. We were not standby passengers. We were three people who were supposed to be on their way to Denver.
“I KNOW you aren’t standby,” she said. “But you HAD NO SEATS.”
I ask you, readers. What do you do with that?
“Now what I CAN do,” she said happily, “is put you all on a plane to Tulsa.”
“A plane to TULSA?” I repeated.
Tulsa, for those of your unfamiliar with American geography, is in Oklahoma. Which is not anywhere near Denver, Colorado. It’s not even in the area of Denver, Colorado. So I wasn’t entirely sure why she would think we would be happy about going there. But it seemed like there was a possible plane we could get on in Tulsa that would take us to Denver.
There was no apology offered in any of this—it was all offered as if this was a kind of bonus. “Six more hours of travel!” she was suggesting. “A trip an airport in Oklahoma!”
We asked her what the alternative was, and she made it more or less clear that either we were going to go to Tulsa, or we were going to live in the Chicago airport.
We said we would go to Tulsa. New tickets and pieces of paper were produced.
“Can we sit together?” J. Krimble asked.
“No,” the woman replied. “But this plane to Tulsa is so small, you’ll PRACTIALLY BE ON TOP OF EACH OTHER.”
Our Tulsa tickets required us to go over to F terminal, reachable by a tiny shuttle that looked like it had been produced in Stalinist Russia—grim and gray, with foam popping out of the seats. F terminal didn’t seem as loved as B or C terminal. Our best option to grab some food was a very angry sandwich shop where they threw together some sandwiches that exploded in the bags.
“I feel like they just don’t care,” I said, looking at the total collapse of my sandwich. It had exploded to pieces in the bag. “It’s just a bag of sandwich now.”
“Would you like one of your birthday presents now?” J. Krimble asked.
I said I would. A small wrapped object was placed on the table.
“I would give you yours,” I said, “but it is on its way to Denver.” This was true. I had checked my bag, but inside, there were birthday presents for everyone. I wondered if I would ever see it again. Then I unwrapped my present, only to find this!
Yes! The Unauthorized Biography of Robert Pattison, star of Twilight!
I stared at the book for a moment and flipped through the very unauthorized photographs.
“This is wonderful!” I said. “Now I am going to read this to you. Let’s begin . . .”
SCENE: CHICAGO AIRPORT, A CROWDED GATE
It was Pixie’s turn to read. J. Krimble was looking moderately suicidal. We were on page 15.
“Please stop,” he said.
“No, no,” I said. “This is my birthday present. We are going to read it. Please continue, Pixie.”
“This book is like, fifty pages long,” J. Krimble protested. “And forty of them are about the filming of Twilight. And thirty of them are about his HAIR.”
“Yes,” I said happily. “That is why I like it.”
“Listen to this,” Pixie said, reading, “Rob’s nicknames are: ‘Rob, Patty (what his friends call him), RPattz (what fans call him—though he thinks it sounds ‘like an antacid pill’), Spunk Ransom (long story!)”
“Spunk Ransom?” I said. “I want to hear a story that ends up with you getting the name ‘Spunk Ransom.’ I want to hear it right now.”
“Next fact,” she said, reading on. “‘If he weren’t an actor, Rob would be: a pianist (or Jack Nicholson).’”
“There’s already a Jack Nicholson,” I replied. “Maybe Jack Nicholson is just a job you can have. Maybe Rob Pattison will be the next Jack Nicholson!”
“It also says he doesn’t like children, and it says there’s a picture where it looks like he wants to eat a baby. There are a lot of exclamation points in this book . . .”
J. Krimble put his head on his knees.
The woman at the desk wasn’t lying about the size of the plane. We had to duck to get inside, and the jetway was two feet long. In the front, a very precious little girl was talking to her father.
“I’ve named the plane!” she said, in her adorable little girl voice. “I’m named it AMELIA!”
I turned to look at J. Krimble, who crammed in a few seats behind me. He mouthed the words: NO THAT IS A BAD NAME FOR A PLANE.
I opened my Rob Pattison book for a moment, then put my head back and . . . .
zzzZZZZZzZzZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
SCENE: TULSA AIRPORT
I was very groggy when we landed.
“Why are we in Oklahoma?” I asked.
“Because United Airlines hates us,” J. Krimble said.
We had LOTS OF TIME to kill in Tulsa airport, so we wanted to see all we could. The first thing we saw was a police guard at the women’s room right at our gate. We watched as a small team of policemen took a sniffer dog inside.
“Tulsa is exciting,” I said.
We decided almost immediately that we liked Tulsa, largely because they had a large display of these shirts:
But looking at t-shirts could only entertain us for so long, so I pulled out my new book.
When they finally called our flight, J. Krimble went up to make sure we were actually on it.
“Is this plane really full?” he asked. “Can we sit together?”
“Oh,” the woman at the counter laughed. “It’s SO full. It’s . . . 101% full.”
“That is one percent more full than it should be,” J. Krimble said, politely.
We all got middle seats. I took a picture mid-flight to commemorate the moment:
And so . . . many hours and states later, we arrived in Denver. And there was Daphne, waiting for me.
We were immediately struck by the fact that they had a carosel for normal bags, and then another one with long, tall compartments, perfect for a person to ride in standing up! I ran for this, but Daphne caught my arm.
“No,” she said. “For skis.”
“But . . .”
“For skis.”
I walked past, sadly . . . every moment twitching to hop on board and ride around. We went off searching for my bag at the baggage service desk.
“Oh yes,” they said, “it’s right there, in the middle of the floor.”
United Airlines, faithful to the last, had left my unattended bag in the middle of the floor for what I assume was about six hours.
So, if you are considering a trip across the country, why not try UNITED AIRLINES?
Now that we have recovered, I resume work on the BLOG OF LOVE, which I hope to post TOMORROW. Thank you all who sent in your romance questions. I study them now, and hope to provide you with the very best of advice for your Valentine’s Day. If you have any questions to get in at the last minute, please ask, and I will certainly try to address them.
Labels: birthdays, Daphne Unfeasible, flying, travel
posted by Maureen at
5:15 AM
49 Comments:
AHH! SCARY ROB PATTINSON BOOK!
I swear that book is following me. Every day I see people at school with them. EVERY. DAY. There's no escaping it. Or RPattz. I think we all should fear for our lives.
Also, I would love to go to Tulsa. I would spend my time running through the city looking for S.E. Hinton and various things related to The Outsiders. That would be very enjoyable for the Outsiders-obsessed me.
Ohhh, Tulsa! Like in the House of Night series...
Which is yet another vampire series.
I have a question. An age old question at that, but I think asking it again won't harm anyone.
Why are boys so anti-Valentine's Day?
That is a lovely birthday gift. I will not deny it. You will surely impress many people with your new found knowledge of everything Spunk Ransom.
You look slightly zombiefied by the events of the day.
Every year my aunt and I fly to Disney World where we proceed to have an excellent time and ride the teacups. I have never had any trouble with the airlines. In fact, I am a good luck charm on flights. But anywhere else I am a jinx. Perhaps from now on when you fly I could sit in the seat next to you, and then quickly sprint off when we hit the ground, so that you don't get lost in the airport or something?
Yes, yes, on your next flight. The mysterious looking girl seeing how long she can hold her breath? yeah, that's me.
I can't believe you RAN through O'Hare. That must have looked epic. (At least I assume you landed at O'Hare. If you landed at Midway, well, that is suck's breeding ground.)
You must come back to Chicago. It's more fabulous than you can imagine.
This sounds a lot like what happened to me this summer. They told me that my flight would definitely NOT be leaving until at least late that night, but that I could NOT leave the terminal in case my flight left before then. Not even to go to the bathroom. Airlines are lovely.
Heh. I remember when I used to believe that airlines only booked transfers that they believed were possible.
I really find the process of overselling flights repulsive. Airlines make all these commercials about their wonderful customer service but nothing could be closer to the truth. They know you need to fly. They know you will not settle for spending 12 hours on a train or in a car. They ignore your needs, wants, and concerns completely and focus only on the money involved. Makes me furious.
Okay, well, I guess they do care about your safety, because if they're not careful about that it means lots and lots of deaths and lawsuits. But it's still fueled by covering their butts.
I'm glad you made it to Denver okay :)
HAHAHAHA I meant "nothing could be FURTHER from the truth", not closer.
Sorry. lol.
Aw, my captcha says "warglypo"!
I do have another 'romance question': Did this experience in anyway diminish your fondness for Robert Pattinson, authorized or not?
I hope your other gifts were at least as entertaining.
BTW, the captcha I need to use to post this is "reshiest". Hmm. That could be decribe either Rob's hair or this trip. You pick.
I love new superlatives!
blerg...I so know what you mean. I flew United over the holidays, booked my ticket (with SEAT #s!) way in advance, and when I went to check in online 24 hours before my flight, they assigned me a random seat! It was so frustrating because I was flying with someone and we purposely bought tickets next to each other. Then we ended up sitting aisles away from each other.
At least you had a fun book to read! :)
1st of all, mine is wawathr, which sounds like especially soggy rain. like wa-wa weather?
2nd, ooh! ooh! my birthday was in the last 48 hours! it is february 11! my birthday is near maureen johnson's! and many of her friends!!
I believe I'm flying with United Airlines this summer.
I can only look forward to it.
Your post is one of the many reasons I decided to take trains instead of planes. At least on a train I have a gazillion seats to choose from - with barely half of them containing an actual human being!
Sure, it takes a lot longer to reach your destination - about a day or two depending on where you start and where you're going - but well, if you count up all the hours in airport terminals between flights, I bet it'd be about the same.
Plus, you can see lots of totally awesome scenery in a train. AND you get to walk around and prance through the aisle! You don't have to sit! What could be better?
I have a major crush on my brother's best friend. Can i pursue it??
xoxo
Hopeless
O'Hare - I remember it fondly
Tulsa - I would just as soon forget
Birthdays - I don't have 'em anymore
But happy wishes on yours! (all of you!)
lol hilarious post maureen! I love to travel- let's all go to Tulsa!!!!
and even tho there are probably a million questions like this- I'm shy, so how do I tell a guy who hardly knows who I am that I like him?
I used to live in Denver and our relatives flew in frequently to visit and I was always tempted to ride the ski carosel. I miss it very much, hope you had a lovely time.
My captcha... obowhiog.
I had a similar thing happen to me today. Driving home from my friends university where I visited to watch her perform in The Vagina Monologues I gave her a ride home, she planned on returning home for the weekend, but I didn't know that I was her ride home. It turned out it was a good thing she bummed a ride from me because our trip home turned into a tour of South Central Pennsylvania, which I wouldn't have wanted to do alone, and is not something I recommend to anyone if getting home is the objective.
We didn't get lost, but I had no idea how to get home the way I came. So I headed toward the city my brother lives in, Lebanon. I have visited him and have successfully driven home from Lebanon. Trouble is the whole time we were driving from the college town I kept wondering if we'd ever make it to where I thought we were going. But we got there, and got to see a lot of things.
"FYI, this is Lebanon, Emily"
"Oh"
Fifteen minutes later...
"FYI again that roads leads to Lebanon Valley College"
"I know people who go to LVC, but I don't remember who"
20 minutes later
*Points to sign on which is huge smiling Hershey Kiss*
"Oh... oh we're in Hershey"
This is why you should always fly Southwest. Seriously, if you can't get a Southwest flight to the place, then you should not be going there. I have had horror stories from just about every airline, from surly stewardesses who didn't care that I just threw up in a trash can, to the airline not telling us our flight was cancelled after it had been delayed for six hours, to forcing us to sleep in the Honolulu airport (which is freezing). But I've never had a bad experience on Southwest. Except when I got the middle seat between to fat women, but that was my own fault for getting Starbucks and being late.
Gahhhh. *shudders* I'm glad I'm flying American.
And if you have any horror stories about them too, PLEASE DON'T TELL THEM TO ME. o_O
That is the third most unfortunate airline story I've ever heard.
When I grow-up I want to be Robert Pattinson's stalker.
And I would totally NOT MIND AT ALL to read a whole book about his hair. When I imagine God, he has Robert Pattinson's hair.
NO ONE CAN RESIST ROBERT PATTINSON.
-Maggie
I just received my holiday CHEER card the other day!
I wasn't expecting one, you see, because when I sent my address in, I typo-d my zip code.
Hmmm.
It must be CHEER magic!
Also, you are lucky your bag wasn't suspicious looking! Once I forgot my bag at the airport and when I went back all these security guards were around it with dogs and such.
You definitely look like a woman on the verge in that picture. I flew from Des Moines, Iowa to...oh dear...not Heathrow, but the other airport in London, the name of which I cannot remember at this time. Anyways, I was in the middle seat for that flight. I feel your pain.
Why do airlines DO THAT?? I have had many concourse jogs only to arrive at my gate ten minutes early and find my plane has already departed.
Sometimes the gate attendant smugly tells you that the plane left partly empty. Those are the really evil ones.
The only solution I've found is to (a) only book longer layovers (not always possible or effective), and (b) fly Southwest. They haven't done that to me. Yet.
I am glad you photo-documented this adventure, but I would pay good money to see our dear Herzy Krimble be forced to listen to the fabulous RPatz book. Good, good money.
Oh, I love epic airport stories. Mwahahahahaha.
Once, we were flying from my home to Newark, and we had a layover in Detroit. We also had 50 mintues to make our connection. We figured it would take us 30 minutes to get to the gate. So we stopped at one of the little food places to get a sandwich to go. Did I mention this was Christmas Day? Anyway, the line took FOREVER and we had 15 minutes to make it to our gate. We started SPRINTNG down the people-movers...it's very jolting once you leave a people mover while running... We made it to the gate with two minutes to go. Then we scarfed our crappy airport sandwiches because we were so hungry. Best christmas dinner I have ever had.
Then, we were flying back from Mexico. We realized once we got to the Phoenix airport that we had a seven hour layover. What do you do in the Phoenix airport for seven hours? Mostly, we got lost. Then, we STILL had to sprint to our gate because they decided, randomly, to change it from terminal b to terminal A. gRRRRRRRRrr.
A love question: not to sound super-stalkery...There is this guy. Ahem. Whom I have a ginormous crush on. Problem is, he has a girlfriend. Who I am extremely jealous of, and yet I also feel guilty whenever I see her because I wish they would break-up. This has, until recently, been fine. Unfortuately, I have started having very vivid dreams about the three of us, usually involving big giant global disasters where me and the boy have to team up to defeat the bad guys, of which the aforementioned girlfriend is one of. Also, we can usually fly. Then, he falls in love with me, because of my wonderfulness. So my question is...how do I stop having these dreams and learn to not feel jealous of the girlfriend anymore? Oh, the guy and I also work on the same play together, where I play a woman who is stalking a painting she drew of her ex-husband, who is of course played by the boy. Please help.
I also recommend Jet Blue Airlines. During the infamous week of piling snow a few years ago, my family and our neighbors were forced to travel from JFK Airport to Disney World (in FLORIDA, as in AS FAR AWAY FROM JFK AS POSSIBLE) in a minivan.
Eight people, twelve pieces of luggage, for twenty three and a half hours in a minivan, our only entertainment being truck-stop DVDS and reiterating what an ADVENTURE this was.
Note to self: adventures are not fun.
My sister actually got that Rob Pattinson book for her book report. It was a sad day for children everywhere.
Can't wait for the love blog!
oh my god maureen that is awful! I hate United. BLAH. Do you ever just laugh yourself silly when writing your own blogs? I would! I laughed so hard I woke my poor boyfriend up. He looks grumpy =] yay maureen! That book...is frightening. Wooooooow.
-Holly
I also have a United Airlines horror story that involves my family and I being stuck in O'Hare airport for 12 hours and going through security so many times we got labeled as a potential security threat! We finally got a standby flight to Phoenix but only for two of us. So my brother and I got to sit by strangers on an 11:30 p.m. flight to Phoenix! Yay fun! This was also my first time flying ever. Sooo....yeah.
Maureen, why does it feel like some people just meant to be single?
-Ava
That is SO AWESOME that you are here in Colorado! We usually never get the cool people!
Glad you finally got to Colorado. I hope you enjoy it.
Wow, makes me want to not fly somewhere anytime soon. That book is kinda creepy, Maureen. And yes, I can resist both rob and Edward. Creepy.
where is this "Love Blog" you have been talking about?
it is almost ten.
me want love blog!
Happy Brithday!!!!!!!!! :o)
sorry about your scary airplane experience. :o(
Kate
Happy Birthday!
And Tulsa is a wonderful place...except when you want to go to Denver...then maybe not so great.
But lots of cool authors live here (Tulsa). I've spotted three different authors at grocery store-but two of them were mother and daughter, and together.
:)
I know that your first Chicago visit was awful, but most of us are really nice people. I'm saying this honestly. We may have a crazy ex-governor and mean airport officials, but overall, we're very pleasant. Just don't come in the winter. It's cold, which makes us cranky. But O'Hare sucks. Um, yeah... Come anyway!
Aww, it sounds like you had quite the adventure!
J. Krimble does not appear to excel at math. 40+30 does not equal 50...
This blog seriously just made my day, Maureen. Thank you.
You RAN through O'Hare? Really? We were almost late for our flight there, one time, but we took a train-type-thing.
And Tulsa is only like an hour away from here. Their airport confuses me so much. I like the OKC airport much better.
This is hilarious because I have done something very like this, very recently. This summer, to get back from my aunts house in Michigan, I was flying alone a layover for the first time. My layover was in O’Hare. Which everyone knows has two billion terminals. And is in Chicago, where I do not know anyone.
So inevitably my (United Airlines) plane was late by about two hours. This meant that my two hour layover had turned into a five (5) minute layover. So I got to be the crazy person running full speed from B terminal to G terminal. I got to beg the people who close the doors onto the plane to ‘PLEASE don’t close them yet, I’m right HERE!’ Needless to say I swung into my seat gasping (as a Nerdfighter I do my best not to run. Ever.) And then the plane was on the tarmac and then we waited on the tarmac for 2 more hours. I got into DIA at about 3 AM. Isn’t United Airlines WONDERFUL?
I really do think most airlines require their employees to take Apathy and Stupidity classes before they're allowed to work for them.
Chicago is wonderful, though.
I was in Denver with my best bud last month and I wanted to ride the ski luggage belt thing too!!! My friend said the same thing, "No! Not for People! Skiis." me: "please?" Friend: "No."
Fly Southwest if possible! Much friendlier and they don't charge for luggage.
That connecting tunnel/hall in O'Hare with all the pretty colors and pretty lights is my favorite place EVER. It's just so pretty and cool and MADE OF AWESOME. I want to live there.
I live in a rural area of Northern California. Our airport is rumoured to have been initially built as a airforce training field for foul weather landings, thanks to its copious amounts of fog. This, of course, leads to innumerable delays and cancellations and general suckiness.
EVERY airplane trip I've taken goes pretty much like this.
Also, there are only 3 airlines, United being the only one that ever seems to have routes going in the right direction.
Tons of fun ;-)
OOH! I have a United Airlines story!
This summer, my dad and I decided to use his free airline tickets on United. We went to Montreal...by way of six separate flights.
TO MONTREAL:
Phoenix - Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. - Montreal
TO PHOENIX:
Montreal - Chicago
Chicago - Sioux Falls, SD
Sioux Falls - Denver
Denver - Phoenix.
We spent 18 hours on the day we traveled home. SO MUCH FUN. And Sioux Falls? I think it's worse than Tulsa. At least they had nifty shirts. Sioux Falls had a newspaper with this headline: "Three men killed in plane crash; were coming to SD to hunt prairie dogs". I kid you not.
In other happy news, Denver was shut because of storms. We were stuck in SD for another hour. And then stuck on the tarmac in Denver because the winds were too high for planes to take off. I listened to air traffic control while waiting. I heard our pilot be all, "Oh? That many knots? It's our max, but we'll take it!" WHAT? NO! WE DO NOT TAKE MAX. THAT MEANS PLANE BARELY ABLE TO FLY. THAT IS BAD!
But I made it safely home to Phoenix.
PS - That connecting tunnel at O'Hare is the best! I used to live in Chicago when I was little. Before 9/11, I went there with my daddy every weekend to watch planes and visit that specific tunnel!
No Maureen, Cow tipping is cruel! Don't you feel bad for the cows?
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