Cards and Letters from the Road

Dear Alexandria Louisiana Airport:

Don’t yall have child labor laws in Louisiana?  Why are all your employees under the age of 16?  Don’t you have adults down there?  When the 12 year gate agent couldn’t get me checked in for my flight, I asked to speak to her mother.  Yall need some grown ups at your airport.

Hugs,

Donlyn

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Dear Budget Car Rental:

Please let your employees pick their own clothes.  I feel uncomfortable seeing your people in those front-butt enhancing belted navy blue pants and  golf shirt tucked in and bunched up  their asscracks.  I promise you that your valuable customers, like me, would prefer to see employees in normal clothes, not those outdated and unflattering-on-everyone uniforms you force them to wear.

Hugs,

Donlyn

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Dear DeltaNorthwest:

I hate you with a whitehot hate rivaled only by my hatred for leather seats on 6 hour car ride in the summer in the south.  I have not done ANYTHING to you and yet you look for ways to jack with me at every turn.  I want a divorce.  You disgust me.  You don’t have the courage to tell me you don’t want me, you just keep doing shit to me hoping I will break up with you.  I am about ready to do just that.

I am not in the logistics business but I have common sense.  Common sense tells me that if you have to cancel shipments of people due to your vehicles breaking down, you might want to have a spare vehicle nearby.  It is incredible to me that when one plane breaks down, you have no spare. 

Which reminds me.  Do you know what year it is?  It is 2009.  Why are you still flying itty bitty propeller planes from the 50’s? 

When I purchase a plane ticket to my destination, I expect to ride on an AIRPLANE.  I applaud you for your quick thinking yesterday, but I had a ticket for an AIRPLANE, not a freaking Greyhound bus.  See above paragraph – why don’t you have a spare airplane somewhere?   

Perhaps you should consider stealing some bus drivers and replacing your rude and unfriendly pilots.  Even though you shoved us all on a bus to get us to our destination when your airplane wouldn’t work, the jovial, engaging and fun bus driver made things a bit better by being nice and friendly.  Perhaps you should have Greyhound drivers train your staff on how to be nice to passengars.

This is the second week in a row you’ve sent me to travel Hell, DeltaNorthwest.  I hate you. I hope you get eat up by Southwest Airlines.

No hugs for you,

Donlyn

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Dear Highway Department

Would you mind posting a sign stating the main ramp of the interstate is closed BEFORE people get on the damn closed ramp?  Seriously, just move the damn sign to the interstate so we can see it BEFORE we get on the ramp.  I’m sure the 18 wheeler trying to make a u-turn on the ramp would have appreciated this warning as well.

Idiots.

Hugs,

Donlyn

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Dear Motorola phone makers,

Do you make any phone, at all, whatsoever, that will operate for at least a year before it dies while your customer is on a business trip from hell?  And why do my phones always die when I’m out of town and can’t do shit about it?  Why can’t they die while I’m at home and can run to the Verizon store and start the long stressful unproductive process of getting the phone fixed or replaced?

You do this on purpose, don’t you?  You’re friends with DeltaNorthwest, don’t deny it.

No hugs for you,

Donlyn

Oh, yes, I’m Lucky

How else can I respond to people who tell me just how lucky I am to get to travel to fun places with work?

I don’t talk to people about where I go and what  I do.  Primarily because I want to be a normal person, just a peep in the hood.  I don’t want people to be intimidated by me or like me for what I “do.”  There is so much more to me that what I do for a living.  I want my friends to know the real me, not the me that dresses up in my work costumes and jets off to foreign places, like Florida.

My neighbor, Mrs. Cravitz, always asks if I’m going out of town.  My theory is that she plans her spy activities for the week and if I’m out of town, that frees her  to spy on other neighbors.  So she checks in with me.  She asked me last weekend if I was going to be home this week.  No, I replied, I would be gone through Thursday.

Of course she wanted to know where I was going and what I would be doing.  I always have snappy answers to questions like this, but since I strive not be a heartless snark, I refrain from answering “to hell to cavort with your momma.”

I told her I was going to Florida on business.  She wanted to know where.  I said south Florida but that was not good enough.  So I told her Naples.

Oh, she was ecstatic!  She’s been there this year!  She started asking me if I would go to this restaurant or that shop and when would I go to Sanibel.   I gave her a pitiful smile and said never as I would be working and would not likely leave the hotel property.

I will admit that it is nice to stay in five star hotels and resorts on business.  But how lucky am I?

I set the alarm for 3:30 am Sunday.  I drug my sleeping ass out of bed and got in the shower.  I quickly got ready so I could finish packing.  At 4:30, I drug my heavy suitcase out of the house and with all my might and my bad back, I slung it into my trunk.  I drove to the airport, it was still dark when I got to the parking lot.

At the check in counter, I endured the stress of trying to check in with Delta for a flight originally booked on Northwest (see previous post).  I hurried through security to the gate to (not) spend just a few minutes before boarding (see yet another previous post).

Arrived in Atlanta, I don’t even remember what I did during that short layover.  Arrived in Fort Myers, hopped in the car and drove fast.  I had to set up a trade show booth by 4 pm and then rush to shower, wash my hair and get all dolled up for the reception that started at 5:30.  No time to do anything other than rush.

The reception lasted until 8:30.  My coworker, the damnyankee, offered to buy my dinner but I was exhausted.  I had been up 16 hours and had consumed 2 glasses of wine by that time.  He acted offended that I said no but he is a damnyankee so I didn’t care.

Monday morning I set the wake up call for 5:30.  Showered, got ready and rushed to the breakfast meeting.  Attended a business meeting and break, schmoozing the whole time.  My email was filling up, I had 4 voice mails and I needed to get to work.  I went back to my room where I worked until 1 pm returning calls and answering emails.  At 1, I slapped on sunscreen and bathing suit and ran out to the beach.  I found a chair, pulled out a book and tried to enjoy the sunshine.

The wind was blowing so hard it kept blowing my hat off.  I choose the novel, Sarum, a story of ancient England, as my beach read.  Dear God, what was I thinking?  Who the hell reads books about human sacrifice practices of the ancient Druids on the damn beach?  Apparently I do.

I didn’t eat lunch, there wasn’t time.  At 3 pm, I went back to my room, reapplied sunscreen, put on running clothes and went for a run on the beach.  Or should I say an attempted run?  The wind whipped sand and salt in my face and contacts.  I’ve never worn contacts on the beach so I didn’t know the salty sweat would cause them to dry out, shrink and suction their dry selves to my eyeballs.  I know now.

My run last all of 20 minutes because that was all I could take.  I grabbed a $25 sandwich to go at the tiki bar and went back to my room.  I showered, washed my hair and took bites of my sandwich as I put on my makeup.  I reported back to the conference for the 5:30 reception, followed by dinner.   At 10:30 I was falling asleep in my chair as my coworker kept poking me with his damnyankee elbow.

I got back to my room at 11 and didn’t have th energy to wash my face.  I set the alarm for 5:15 and went to bed.

Tuesday morning I rose, showered, dressed and gussied up for the 7:15 breakfast meeting.  Followed by a business session and break as my email piled up and 6 voice mail messages registered on my phone.  I left the conference, went back to my room and worked until 3 pm.  I slathered on sunscreen and a bathing suit and headed to the pool with my novel of Druid murder and blood.  I found a nice pool chair in the shade, got situated and promptly fell asleep.

At 4 pm I had to make a decision:  go for a run or a strawberry daiquiris, made with real strawberries.  After a short deliberation, I choose the daiquiris.  I rushed back to the room at 6, showered, washed my hair, got all dolled up and met my damnyankee coworker and 2 clients at the tiki bar for “scooby snacks” and to watch the sunset.  How nice is that?  A gorgeous sunset in a beautiful locale and I’m with clients?

I excused myself at 9, faking swine flu symptons and went back to my room where I set the alarm for 5:15 and went to bed.  I had a break out session the next morning, so once again, shower, get the professional costume on and stand in front of a class of 50 men and tell them what to do.  And while I was doing that, my email box kept growing and so did my voice mail box.

That afternoon there was more work.  Phone calls, conference calls, research, etc.  At 4 pm, I had to stop working.  I was out of deodorant, I had actually used my fingernails to dig out the last morsel of my Dove solid that morning to have enough to get me through the morning.  I still had another conference function and the trip home to get through and I needed deodorant.  My 5-star room had shoe polish, woolite, make up remover, a comb and a loofah, but no deodorant.

Another dilemma was my valet parked car.  It would cost me $10 in tips to get my car and drive a couple of miles to the nearest Walgreens for deodorant.  So I thought about possible solutions.  I believe my ability to be creative with issues and come up with solutions outside the box is what makes me the successful person I am.

I remembered passing a Walgreens just before I turned on the road to get to the hotel.  It didn’t seem to be that far.  I put on my running clothes, put my room key and my debit card in my bra and literally ran to Walgreens.  It took about 12 minutes to get there, so I’m guessing it was just over a mile.  On this particular run, the stress incontinance hit me pretty hard, all the way into my shoes.  I smelled like a sweaty piss pond.  But I had to have deodorant.  I took a few yoga breaths and reminded myself that no one here knows me and I’ll never see these people again.  I marched into Walgreens, sweaty and pissy and bought my deodorant.  Then I ran back.

I showered, got dressed to the nines and descending the stairs for the “formal” banquet  only to see I was one of the few people who took “formal gala closing banquet” to mean “formal gala closing banquet.”  I had on my fabulous black dress and Cole Haan shoes, a velvet wrap and my expensive jewelry.  Most woman had on sundresses and embellished flip flops.  I sat through a very long dinner making small talk with clients and doing my best to be cheerful, entertaining, and engaging.  The banquet just drug on and on…..

At 11 pm, we called it a night and I sprinted to my room.  I still had to pack.  I crawled into bed at midnight and set the alarm for 6.

I got up that morning and quickly got ready.  I drug my 47.5 pound suitcase, rolling briefcase and travel bag down to retrieve my car and speed to the airport.  I left the hotel at 8 am EST that morning.  I traveled all day, pulling up in my driveway at 4 pm CST.  During the travel, the rush to make the connection, the delayed flight and boarding process, I returned calls, answered emails, found time to pee and fill my water bottle at the water fountain. While pulling my rolling briefcase through Concourse A, I felt it.  That deep slow agony in the base of my spine.  THE backache.  Oh shit.  Not now!  I put myself in the positions I learned in physical therapy to relieve the pressure on my protruding disc.  Yes, I looked like an idiot sitting at the gate with my lower back curved inward and my chest poking out and up to my chin.  But I didn’t care.  If people didn’t like that, I could always piss in my pants and see if they like that better.

I was exhausted when I got home.  I could have laid in my hammock and slept for days in the back yard.

But no rest for the weary.  My dear husband was happy to see me and I believe he wanted an attentive wife, not one nodding off while cooking dinner.  So I smiled and kept going.

Yes.  I’m lucky.   I just can’t wait to do this again.  I could just about pee my pants waiting for yet another lucky trip like this.

Guessing

I wish I could read people better.  My manager can sit through a meeting and pick up on body language and nuances that I just don’t see and figure out people.  I can do this to some extent, but not to the extent I’d like to. 

I can pick up the obvious cues, when someone is a an asshole and I’ve got a nice accurate gaydar.  My inability to accurately and completely read people has not served me well in the past as indicated by more than average divorce decrees in my permanent files.

But today I think I did pretty good at reading people and wanted to share my observations.

The place:  Memphis Airport, 6 am, Gate B11, Delta flight to Atlanta departing at 7:05. 

I won’t muss up my clever post with the hassle of getting to the airport that early, you know, the fact I had to get up at 3:30 am and my suitcase was too fat to squeeze into the truck of my new car.  I’ll save that for later.

I sat watching the people arrive at the gate and kept up my eagle eye investigations through our landing in Atlanta at 8:45 EST.

I identified the Infrequent Flyers.  Here they are:

The 60-something man in the patchwork, quilted, seer sucker golf pants in red, orange and pink.  No one wears pants like that in public.  He is either recently single or he played flute in the junior high band and recalls those days as the best times of his life.

The 30-something chick who just crawled out of bed and still had on pajama pants.  Yes, I know 7 am is early for a flight.  If you don’t think you can get your ass out of bed in time to at least put pants on, then just sleep in your clothes.

The 30-somthing chick traveling with her bed pillow as her carry-on.

The older (than me) lady who kept reading her boarding pass as if it were a suspense novel.  She seriously could not put it down.  If she did take her eyes off of it to look up and listen to the pre-recorded announcements, she went right back to reading it as soon as the announcement was over.

The group of women carrying bags of foul smelling food and juggling jumbo cups of coffee from the Lenny’s counter onto the plane along with three carry-ons and recent eidtions of National Enquirer.

The tall nice looking 30-something man who sat in the window seat next to me.  I figured this out when he would not let me get up and let him in his seat, instead he tried to crawl over me, stepped on my feet and nearly kneed me in the chest.

The 40-something lady one row behind and across the aisle from me.  Her ipod was on so loud I could hear it over the engine noise. She was bobbing her head as if in a club trying to draw the attention of a dance partner and her ipod was so loud she could not hear the flight attendant’s announcement to turn off and stow all portable electronic devices.  Either that or she thought she was too cool for the rules to apply to her.

The lady across the aisle from me who pulled out her medium sized carry-on, put it on her arm rest and held it there after the flight attendant told her to put it away.  Perhaps the flight attendant only wanted her to put it away for a minute?  Although whether a person follows the rules or not is not my business,  I recognize unsecured carry-on shit as a danger to my safety in the event of a bad landing or wind shear.  Even something as lame a book becomes a deadly missile in just the right unfortunate airlanding event.

There were numerous infrequently flyers I didn’t single out, but they were all obvious when it was time to deplane.  Instead of following the protocol of allowing those in front of you to get up and go down the aisle first, there was a mad push of people barreeling down the aisle not letting anyone out of their seats.

The 60-something cocky man who blocked everyone else from picking up their valet checked bags off the cart because he couldn’t find his.  He fondled and pulled out every black bag on the cart, and due to his size, blocked the rest of us from getting ours.  I pushed to the front to grab mine and as soon as I got my hand on it, Mr. Obivilous decided to head butt me in the crotch while he wrestled a bag from the bottom shelf.   I hope he enjoyed that.  If I were not deathly afriad of the NO FLY LIST, I would have done something horrible to him in return.  Especially since he didn’t even acknowledge he hit me.

See? I’m doing better reading people.  I picked them all this morning. 

Arrival

Welcome to Denver, where the local time is one hour later than your body clock and the temperature is cold and there is not enough air for you to breathe.

Right after I sent my letter to Northwest, I got a love text stating my first class upgrade had been confirmed.  I believe Northwest still loves me.

I felt like a flying virgin today and had a few faux pas along the way.  Before I confess my faux pas, I must put out my disclaimer that I am under more stress than usual and having a bit of struggle keeping my cats herded. 

Stress #1:  Someone came in my house last week allegedly to rob and pillage.  Only problem was that I was at home when they came in.  I didn’t come face to face with my visitors as they were probably as scared of me as I was of them.  When I realized someone was in my house and so was I, I grabbed my keys, got in my car and drove straight to the police station.

Stress #2:  I love to bitch about my aching back because that makes me feel like I am doing something about it.  However, it has become progressively worse over the past few months and all the bitching in the world is not helping it any more.  I hate taking pain pills worse than I hate leather car seats so the doctor decided rather hear me whine and complain about pain but not taking pain pills, he sent me for an MRI. 

The MRI results came back and I did not get the news I wanted.  I’ll report back after I see the neurosurgeon next week.  I am not happy.

Stress #3: A text message from my brother as I was speeding to the airport this afternoon.  “4 soldiers killed by ied in Nephew’s unit.  Not him. Waiting for call, unit on lockdown.”

That’s not the kind of message I want to read or see although I am very aware that message was really good news in a really bad way.

I can’t stand thinking about my 21 year old nephew manning artillery in Mosul.  If I picture him in his uniform, with his child like face smiling at me, standing in that hot desert, well, I can’t think about it.  I imagine many military families struggle with knowing their solider is brave and doing right thing and having pride in them to dying on the inside because you want them out of harm’s way. 

Mr. New President – if you’re reading this, I want our soliders home, OK? 

So by the time I got to the airport, I was half upset, very stressed and not fully focused on the tasks at hand. 

I have a method, a procedure, a way I do things to keep my travel as simple as possible.  I park at the same place.  I go in the same entrance to the airport.  I put my boarding pass and ID in the same place.  I check in, go to the ATM and the potty.  Then I go through security.  I have a system.

Today I didn’t follow my system and couldn’t find my driver’s license when I got to the potty.  I forgot to take my one quart zip lock bag of liquids less than 3 oz out of my bag for xray.  I forgot where the newsstand was located.  But once I got my coffee and newspaper, I settled down a bit and the rest of the trip improved.

The flight was a bit bumpy and I was not pleased.  The flight attendant came around with a basket of goodies and offered each first class passengar his or her choice.  I know what is in the goody basket and I was looking forward to my snack size Twix and banana.  However.  The guy next to me grabbed the last banana!  Asshat!  I wanted that banana! 

He didn’t eat my banana right away, he put it in his seat back pocket.  I stared at my banana and wondered if there was a way I could created a diversion of some sort and grab my banana out of his possession.  I waited to see if he would go to the lavoratory, giving me the opportunity to not only claim my banana, but eat it before he could tattle on me to the flight attendant.  I waited..  He didn’t go anywhere.  I turned my evil thoughts inward and decided if I couldn’t eat my banana, I would make his ride as unpleasant as possible.

So I pulled my Fiber One bar out of my purse, ate it hurriedly, guzzled the rest of my bottled water, tilted my ass toward him and let the fiber do its job.  I bet he’ll think twice before he grabs the last banana out of the goody basket.

The minute the plane door opened and the Denver air rushed in, I recognized it.  If I were in a room blindfolded, I could breathe in that air and know it was Denver.  There’s no other air that feels or smells like the air in Denver.  That is a good thing on many levels, one of which is there is not enough air in Denver, so I’m glad that is unique to Denver.

I went down the escalator to board the tram to baggage claim.  You know those trams, don’t you?  A spiffed up subway.  As we stopped at terminal B, a family consisting of a daddy and mommy were approaching the tram to get on.  The mommy had a baby less than a year old in her arms along with a huge diaper bag.  As the family approached the trams, the doors started closing.  Dad sped up and jumped into the tram leaving mommy and baby behind.  Mommy started to come through, another passengar on the tram lept to the door as it was closing to keep it from closing on Mommy and Baby.  Mommy jumped back and looked at dad in sheer fright.  He sheepishly grinned at her from inside the tram and shrugged his shoulders.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  ASS HOLE.  I was sorry I used all my fiber on the banana guy.

Once I collected my 34 pound suitcase, I went to the rental car curb where the Budget Rental Car bus was waiting.  The bus was less than half full when I got on board.  A family approached the bus and the driver stopped them.  This couple also had a young child and more shit than either one of them could carry.  Stroller, car seat, 3 suitcases, diaper bag, various carry-ons, a hanging bag, I couldn’t figure out how they were transporting it all without a pack mule.

The driver told them the bus was full and they’d have to wait for the next one.  He told a fib.  Our bus was not full.  But honestly, if I were him, I would not have wanted to struggle with all that shit either. 

It is snowing in Denver tonight, a thick wet snow that blows under the awning of the hotel.  I used to come Denver once a month or so but it has been over 2 years since I have been here.  I like Denver, I have missed coming out here.  I think I could live here if they’d just get some more air.

Travel Quirks

I heard a keynote speaker at a conference last week talking about traveling as part of your job.  He mentioned travel quirks and said his primary hotel quirk was to always look under the bed.  I have a hotel travel quirk.  I must have the curtains open when I go to bed.

There are challenges for me in this matter. I do not generally stay in luxurious high rise hotels, I can be found in Hampton Inn most of the time.  If I am on the first floor of the hotel, I have an issue in that the window looks out onto the parking lot.  Any pervert could easily peer in on me.  Then there are windows that look out over a flashing electronic bill board or other brightly lit sign.  For some reason the AmeriSuites (now Hyatt Place) hotel in the Park Meadows area of Denver found it necessary to shine spotlights on their hotel which made keeping the curtains open a challenge.

My husband does not appreciate my quirk and thinks it is silly.  Why must I have the curtains open?  Easy.  So I will know where I am.  Have you ever woken up in a strange place and been disoriented?  Didn’t know where you were?  Well, as long as the curtains are open, I know where I am.  Don’t bother me with nit picky questions about how it is dark outside so how do I see to know where I am.  I just do.

As I think about traveling and what I do when I travel, the open curtains are the only quirk that comes to mind.  However, there is something else that I do not like.  I don’t know if it is a quirk or not.

I do not like to be dropped off and left at the airport.  I live an hour from the airport.  When I first started traveling with my job in 1994, I lived an hour and a half from the airport.  My husband at the time worked a 7-3 job.  There was no one that I could impose upon to make that 3 hour round trip to drop me off for a flight or make that 3 hour round trip to come retrieve me upon my return.  I figured out off site airport parking and it worked well. Been using it since.

When I first started traveling, it was tough to do so.  I hated leaving my kids. I had to make arrangements for them so they could get where they needed to go.  My then husband was not the babydaddy and truthfully, I didn’t want him responsible for my kids.  Not because my kids were any trouble, but he was an asshole.  had a lot of mommy guilt as I walked into the airport.  I consoled myself by knowing that I was building my career and I had to do that because I had to support my children.  They would go to college, one way or another.  Working hard to get them there would benefit us all.  So I fought the guilt of leaving and got on the plane.

Back then, people could move freely about the airport whether they had a boarding pass or not.  This meant friends and family could escort the traveller to the gate, sit and visit a while and get those last hugs in before the flyer got on the plane.  These scenes bothered me.  No one was ever there to see me off, to say they’d miss me, to pretend to wipe away tears.  I felt left out.  To add to the misery of being married to an asshole, no one cared that I was gone.  Boo hoo.

So I tried my best to ignore all the emotion around me at airport gates, and then later at the security line, and just get on the plane and go.  This was work to me, not a touchy feely going away ceremony.

So now I hate being dropped off and left.  Why?  You’d think I’d like that since I felt so left out back then.  I don’t like it because I get wierdly emotional about it.  A couple of years ago my husband took me to the airport on a Saturday to catch a flight to LA.  There was an actual reason he was doing this, something to do with logistics, but I don’t remember exactly what.  He pulled up to let me out at curb side and I honest to god cried when he had to pull away.  Good grief!  What is that about?

Then there was the trip last summer.  We planned for him to accompany me on a business trip to Banff Springs Canada.  Because who goes on a trip to a fabulous place like that without someone to share it with?  Just before the trip, my boss called a meeting in NYC.  I had to shuffle things around to get to the meeting and then to the conference in Canada.  The shuffling ended up with me going to NYC on Sunday night.  I left NYC on Tuesday and my husband left our home airport.  We met in Minneapolis and boarded the flight to Calgary together.

When he drove me to the airport on Sunday night to drop me off, I teared up before we got there.  What’s that about?  I was meeting him in Minneapolis in just 2 days, why was I all teary eyed about being dropped off?

If I have abandonment issues, I don’t know about them.  It’s not like the airport is a strange and scary place for me.  I am in airports every week of my life (or so it seems).  Its not that I am worried stressed or scared to leave home.  My husband (the new one) and I get along very well so I’m not leaving in the midst of a crisis or unresolved conflict.  I’m not leaving my kids behind as they are both grown.  The cat is rather self sufficient and if he gets lazy, my husband feeds him.  I do miss my husband and my cat when I’m gone, but I am used to it.  I don’t snivel about leaving when I pull out of the garage to drive myself to offsite parking.

I’ve been thinking about this recently because I am going to have an issue next week.  My son is getting married in Florida and we are all jetting down for the ceremony and a 3 day cruise.  The cruise is over on Sunday.  I do not get to come home from the cruise.  My husband and I will get back to the Orlando airport and he will board a plane for home and I will board a plane for Baltimore.  Dammit.  And I’m sure I’ll blow snot all the way to Altanta.

Fall all around

Fall is all around.  And I seem to be fitting right in with the season.

My business trip last week was to Kansas City and Topeka.  Yes, my job is glamorous.  I’ve only flown over Kansas, so I was looking forward to my trip in a curious kind of way.  I have spent a lot of time in Colorado and I expected Kansas, being a “Plains State” and all, to look much like Colorado.  What I found was Tennessee and Colorado got married and had a child and its name is Kansas.

Kansas is like Colorado in many ways.  It is flat with defined “hills”.  There are acres and acres of flat crop land.  But unlike Colorado and much like Tennessee, there are trees.  Not the scrubby trees in Colorado, but tall trees like in Tennessee. 

The leaves were starting to color a bit in Kansas and it was very pretty.  At least it was when I was not driving into the direct blinding searing glare of the setting sun.  I made up my mind last week that my next eye doctor visit will include prescription sunglasses.  I am old school, I use mapquest.  All my directions were printed out but I had to take off my sun glasses (OH! my eyes!) and put on my regular glasses to read the directions.  That got old after 2 days of being alternately blinded by the sun and blind because, well, I’m blind.

There are not many good thing to say about having a ginormously large nose, but I did find my nose to be quite helpful in Kansas last week.  With its extremely large size, it was possible for me to keep my regular glasses on and put my sunglasses on over them.  I am mortified happy to report my nose not only held both pair glasses with no problem, but there was still room for another pair had I chosen to fortify my sun protection with another pair of sunglasses.

I don’t like to go days with exercise, so I chose one evening to go for a nice run.  I stayed in the Overland Park area and the main road has a nice pedestrian path right along side.  I put on my running shoes and sunglasses and headed out.  I’m not sure what my issue was, there is always an issue with chronic hypochondria, but my run sucked.  My right knee started hurting at the onset of my run.  My left ankle still hurts from my unfortunate encounter with the pine cone weeks ago.  I felt like I weighed 50 pounds heavier than usual and it was just a miserable run. 

I ran about 15 minutes and turned around to start back.  On my way back, I noticed a street that went up a hill into a nice residential area.  I decided to take a detour and walk.  I walked up a very steep hill on a sidewalk through a lovely neighborhood.  The homes were all small one story ranch style houses that looked to have been built in the 60’s.  The yards were beautifully landscaped and well maintained.  Tasteful, subtle fall and Halloween decorations were out, none of the obnoxious 12 foot tall blow up shit from Walmart.  I enjoyed my walk and decided right then that if I ever had to relocate to Kansas City for my job, I would not be too mad.

The sun was going down and I still had a ways to go to get back to my hotel, so when I topped the hill I turned around to walk back.  Straight west.  Into the setting sun.  ARGH!  I was blinded.  Yes, there were trees that shaded most of my walk, but there were frequent spots where the blinding sun went through the trees to burn my corneas.  It was in one of these blinding areas that it happened.

I stepped on a freaking gumball, twisted my right ankle and fell flat on my ass on a strange sidewalk in a strange town where I knew no one.  ARGH.  ARGH.  ARGH.

I sat there for a few seconds completely stunned that it happened.  Now what?  The good news is that I knew immediately it was not hurt as badly as the pine cone ankle.  I took a few deep breaths and got up.  I could limp.  Great.  I limped my crippled ass all the way to my hotel, and that was long limp back.

I nursed the ankle a bit once in my room.  I spent the rest of my evening in a comfy chair watching mindless television.   I am relieved to report the gumball ankle is fine.  Can’t tell anything happened.  The pine cone ankle, however, is another story.  It still hurts.  I guess that’s OK as I need something to complain about or I will be disqualified as a chronic hypochondria patient.

Yes, it is Fall all around.  And I am doing my part to actively participate.

Fly Over Update

I owe myself a nice long update, but today’s fly by news is too good not to get on the internet before something else equally stupid happens and I forget.

We boarded the small regional jet yesterday.  An asshole was on his cellphone with a loud voice that almost everyone on the plane could hear.  He was talking to Mark, a compliance person in his logistics company.  Apparently Asshole thinks Mark sabotaged him.  He was yelling at Mark and asking questions like “what problem do you have with me?  Why are you sabotaging all my projects?  Why didn’t you come to me with these concerns?  Why did you take this to my boss?”  There would be a brief silence in which we assume the poor Mark was answering and Asshole would start back in on him.  “How would YOU fix this Mark?  What is YOUR recommendation?  Are you trying to take my job?  What is your problem Mark?  Your killing our whole company with this kind of sabotage.” 

My seat mate and I, who not even spoken the polite “hello” when we sat down started interjecting our comments on Asshole and the poor Mark.  Asshole started his goodbye telling poor Mark he would call him from Tulsa.  I recommended that Mark go home sick for the day.  As soon as Asshole got off the phone with poor Mark the saboter, he called someone else and rehashed his phone call with Mark.  Asshole started saying “I told Mark this and that” and my seat mate and I both looked at each other with wide eyes.  NO HE DID NOT!  We heard the whole conversation and Asshole did not say this and that. 

He had to be firmly told by the flight attendant more than once to turn off his phone. 

Asshole is one of the primary reasons I am adamantly against cell phone usage on planes.  I had heard all of Asshole I wanted to hear cooped up in a crowded tiny airplane.  I sure didn’t want to listen to him all the way to Tulsa.  Not sure he would have made it that far anyway as he was annoying everyone around us.  I’m sure he would have ended up stuffed into the blue water of the lavratory somewhere over Arkansas.

Interlude:  My new favorite airport is Tulsa.  In all my years of flying, I have never been so impressed by the design, calmness, quiet, and the absolute FRIENDLINESS of every single employee in that airport.  It amazed me – in today’s evironment of crabby people and stressed out, rude airline and travel employees, that every single person I came into contact with at the Tulsa airport SMILED and SPOKE.  The TSA people were also friendly and (gasp) helpful. 

Tulsa – you have set the bar.  You have beat Charlotte.

So my connection this afternoon is in Memphis, my home airport.  I was sitting at the gate working on my laptop when I heard commotion coming down the corridor.  A medic was pushing a woman in a wheelchair who was in obvious medical distress.  She was gasping for breath and crying.  The medic was pushing very fast with another medic running along behind.

A tall man in his finest business suit had the damn audacity to STOP the medic and ask for directions to his gate.  Oh my god.  Are people that damn self centered and clueless?  If I had not been in the middle of my monthly report, I would have told the idiot off. 

Airports.  It doesn’t get more interesting than this.

Mergers and Such

I have my own stuff to take up the space in my head, I don’t get all bent out of shape about the corporate giants and politics. That’s not to say I don’t care about stuff outside my front door, I just don’t get bothered by it as generally, there is nothing I can do any way.

I can gripe and bitch about the price of gas and big oil companies with profits, but honestly? I can control my consumption of high priced gas by buying the cheap gas at Walmart and trying not to go so many places, but there is nothing I can do about the big oil companies, so I just don’t bother. Politics? I don’t go there.

I am annoyed right now at Stride Rite, the children’s shoe company, and I guess I could spend a lot of time and energy fighting with them, but it’s not worth it to me. My issue with them is that I bought 2 gift cards for $50 each from their store in Memphis. When you buy a gift card from a national or regional retailer, don’t you expect it to work at all their locations? HA! You’re a fool then!

There was no sign on the gift card display that warned me the gift cards only worked at THAT location. I bought the cards and gave them to my grandchildren who do not live near Memphis, they live near another city with a Stride Rite store. The other store would not honor the cards and the Memphis store will not refund my money. So I am stuck with $100 of Stride Rite gift cards I can’t really use unless I go to a lot of trouble which includes long car trips with 2 toddlers in an SUV that gets 18 mpg. I could initiate a charge back through my debit card issuer, but that involves an investment of my time and energy. I’m not even wasting the energy trying to decide what to do, I’m just sitting on it for now.

So even with $100 invested, I don’t care about Stride Rite right now other than passing along this story and saying to all of you: Don’t do business with Stride Rite. They’re assholes and tricksters.

But there is something I am all worked up and excited about in the corporate world. That is the merger between Delta and Northwest Airlines. The actual merger doesn’t bother me even though I will be affected. I am a Northwest Gold Elite Kryptonite Princess Platinum Silver Granite Crude Oil Frequent Flyer. I like direct flights when I can get them and with Northwest’s hub in Memphis, it makes flying a little easier.

I understand the economics behind the merger. I am not opposed to it, and if it weren’t this one tiny thing, I wouldn’t care one way or another. I’ll still fly and maybe I’ll get direct flights and maybe I won’t, but it is part of my job and I’ll just do it.

I have a dog in the fight on this merger. That dog is Pinnacle Airlines. Pinnacle is a regional airline for Northwest, and who knows, maybe other major carriers. Pinnacle operates many of the regional NW flights I fly on a regular basis so I have flown on hundreds of Pinnacle flights.

Pinnacle flies the small regional jets. However, those itty bitty planes are hard to avoid when flying to smaller airports, so I can’t hold that against them even though I don’t like the small planes.

In the last year when booking my flights, I take my time in researching options to make sure I can avoid Pinnacle flights, no matter what the cost or where I have to fly. I can’t always avoid Pinnacle, but by George, I try hard. My hope in the Delta Northwest merger is that Pinnacle Airlines will go away and I will not have to go out of my to avoid their flights.

Since you all know what a laid back tolerant flyer I am not you are probably shocked that I would have such a strong opinion against Pinnacle Airlines. What’s up with that?

Most airlines are about the same. A flyer is going to be delayed, have lost luggage, get ground stopped, rude gate agents, gestapo flight attendants, cancelled flights, bad service, annoying seat mates, etc no matter which airline he/she is on. Those are the facts of flying. TSA rules are going to be enforced differently at every security checkpoint. Don’t try to pretend they are not. The metal detectors are set differently as I wear the SAME clothes and the SAME jewelry just about every time I travel. Most of the time I go right through the metal detectors and at some airports I don’t. The only thing different is the metal detector.

So for me to notice that one particular airline is REALLY and CONSISTENTLY bad means this airline has beat me over the head with how bad they are on a consistent basis. Most of the time I can’t tell you what state I was in last week, much less what airline I flew to get there, but I can tell you in detail about my last 5 Pinnacle flights because they are bad enough to be burned in my memory.

It wasn’t turbulence, delays or cancellations. It was the rudeness of their staff. Consistent rudeness from various flight attendants and gate agents. There was the flight where I heard the pilot and copilot laughing in the cockpit after we landed. The cockpit door opened. I was standing in the aisle ready to deplane. I saw one of the men in the cockpit pass a men’s magazine opened to the centerfold to the other. Laughing. As a passenger, I am just so thrilled to know my life is the hands of men flying the plane at 30,000 feet going 550 mph while enjoying porn.

There was the sudden enforcement of the “one bag” on regional jets. I realize that is an FAA rule, not a Pinnacle rule. On every other airline I fly, when on a regional jet, I obey the one bag rule. I remove my laptop computer (company policy) and valet check my briefcase. This leaves me with a medium sized purse (my one bag) and my laptop in my arms like a book. This is not a problem on any other airline I fly. Just Pinnacle.

This first time this was enforced, I was blindsided. I can’t gate check my purse. I’m not supposed to check my laptop. I work for a company with very strict rules about laptops. The gate agent let me pass but the flight attendant would not let me on the plane with my laptop in my arms. I stood in the gate wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. I saw people getting on the plane with their “one bag” while carrying bags of fast food and a drink. I considered pulling a fast food bag out of the trash, sticking my purse in it and getting on board. I saw people getting on with one bag and a newspaper. I considered grabbing an old newspaper and wrapping my laptop in it.

Why couldn’t I get on with my laptop and purse? I approached the flight attendant again and asked her what she suggested and she flatly and rudely told me to step aside and “get myself organized.” What a bitch.

I stretched my purse straps out as far as they would go and jammed my laptop between the straps. It was not IN my purse, it was between the straps, but that was enough to get me on the plane, where I immediately removed it and carried it in my arms. The flight attendant was rude to everyone for the rest of the flight, which I noticed moreso than normal because she was so rude to me while boarding.

Since I figured out Pinnacle’s rule, I change from my medium purse to a large travel bag when I am forced to take a Pinnacle flight now. This seems absurd to me because my large travel bag takes up more space that my medium purse and my laptop. I have witnessed so much rudeness from Pinnacle staff. I like they way insist the “one bag rule” is not THEIR rule, it is TSA’s rule and they are just enforcing it. I’m wondering how every other airline that flies regional jets is not completely shut down and on trial by the TSA since Pinnacle seems to be the ONLY regional carrier enforcing this rule and not allowing people to carry a laptop in their arms onto a plane.

Since I know almost every Pinnacle flight attendant is rude, I avoid all interaction so that I am not a victim, however, I see the rudeness to the other passengers. Since this seems to be the norm on all Pinnacle flights, it is a company issue, not the case of one or two disgruntled employees.

I have concluded that to work at Pinnacle, you must be fired from another airline for rudeness and treating your paying customers like shit as that seems to be the culture of the airline. I avoid Pinnacle like the plague.

So the thought of a Delta-Northwest merger is interesting to me as rumor has it that may eliminate the need for Pinnacle airlines. When that happens, perhaps I will believe that jingle about the friendly skies again. In the meantime, you can find me flying to Charlotte on US Air regional carriers or to Atlanta on Delta connectors. I will not pay people to treat me like shit.

Baggage

This journey has been better than most. 

I decided to get rid of some old baggage.  Baggage is necessary in life.  You can’t really go anywhere without it.  It is your stuff, and you need stuff.  But sometimes we all just have too much baggage or we carry around the wrong baggage thinking we really need it when actually we don’t.

There are people that have too much baggage, they have more than they can handle.  They are attached to their baggage and feel they can’t function on a journey without it.  They lug their baggage along on the journey and expect that other people will help them handle it.  The fact is we all have baggage on the journey, and most of us, like me, only carry what we can handle ourselves.  We don’t assume we can bog down others to help us with all shit we have packed and decided to carry around.

There are people who love their baggage and take every opportunity to unpack it so that others can see what’s in it.  They lay all their shit out with great pride even as they act like they hate the baggage.  There are people who have the opportunity to greatly reduce their baggage, to unpack all the shit somewhere and say good bye to it, but they wouldn’t know how to be who they are without all that shit in their baggage that they carry around.

I’ve had some bad baggage. I don’t like having bad baggage, and I really want to reduce it to a more manageable size.  The second to the last baggage I had seemed to be just right for me.  It had compartments where I could put different things to keep them separated or hidden.  No one likes dirty laundry exposed, and this baggage had a special place for dirty laundry that kept it out of view.  I liked that.  But the good baggage was not solid and as time went on and I packed more shit it in, it broke.  All my shit was out in the open, all my dirty laundry, mixed in with the nice things I had.  Sigh.

I searched for, but could not find, another good piece of baggage for my journeys.  The last baggage I had was solid, but it wasn’t built just right.  I could put all my shit it in, but my dirty laundry was mingled with my good stuff so that if anyone looked in baggage, it was hard to tell my good stuff from my dirty stuff.  The baggage was cumbersome.  I could not connect this baggage to my work baggage that I must carry with me on all my journeys.  The baggage would frequently fall over and if I didn’t have everything tightly zipped up, chances are my shit would be exposed for God and everyone else to see.  I found this baggage hard to carry around.  It would fall over in the most inconvenient places and I found myself on edge with my baggage, wondering when it would fall over next.  It was bulky and hard to lift in and out of the places I needed to put it. 

But it was my baggage and I just sucked it up and got used to it.  When it would tilt or fall over, I’d just pick it up and go on.  I couldn’t mix my work baggage with it, so I went on my journey dragging 2 full baggages behind me.  There was no relief.  I began to dread journeys because the weight and inconvenience of my baggage was just too much.  I wanted to be free of baggage!  But alas, no one is free of baggage. 

The last baggage went on its last journey just 2 weeks ago.  The damage to my baggage was minimal, but I knew it was time to move on.  It was bent and now had a tear and it was only a matter of time before my baggage completely disintegrated on me, likely leaving me in the middle of an important journey with no where to hide my shit.  I put it off until just a few days before my next journey, but I cast off my old baggage and began anew.

Everyone needs baggage on their journeys, so after I was rid of my old baggage, I searched until I found new baggage.  This baggage is lighter, it doesn’t hold as much shit, but honestly, how much shit am I am supposed to keep hauling around?  I should be light and carefree!  My new baggage is working out just fine.  It has a place for me to connect my work baggage so that I’m only pulling one handle behind me. This frees up one hand so that I can carry a cup of coffee or Diet Dr. Pepper while walking through the journey.  It doesn’t turn over and it stands on its own while I go about the business of my life.  It has compartments so that I can keep things separated and deal with my dirty laundry or my good stuff one at a time.  The wheels roll easily so I don’t feel I am dragging the weight of the world behind me.  My lighter, new baggage has made my journey much easier this week.  Who would have thought getting rid of old baggage could be so wonderful?

 

Infrequent Flyers

I’m traveling this week.

I had a busy weekend with family and was rushed on Monday to get my work shit together and get to the airport.  Part of the rush was my incorrect thinking my flight was at 4:30 pm when it was actually at 2:14 pm.  Another part of the rush was the big mexican meal I ate Sunday night that kept me sprinting to the potty all morning while I was trying to pack and get my work shit together.

I don’t care for infrequent flyers.  First, they have no clue what to do at the airport.  They get in the way, try to talk their 6 ounce bottle of expensive shampoo through security and they get so mad when the normal little hassles of travel occur.  Then there are the infrequent flyers who have flown one or two times in the past 5 years and therefore they know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING related to air travel.  I’m not sure which I would kill with my one bullet. 

I find many infrequent flyers to be obnoxious, as that one plane ride 6 years ago made them “experts” in air travel.  They love to share all their ignorance knowledge with everyone within ear shot.  I possess an ipod for this very reason.  I find air travel to be less stressful when I don’t have to listen to idiots blathering on in the already stressful environment of air travel today. 

You’ve seen them.  I know you’ve heard them.  They are the guys/gals sitting at the gate in the airport or at the bar and they are calling everyone they know on their cell phone and each conversation begins with “yeah.  I’m ’bout to get on a plane fer Etlanta. Yeah. I’m flying to Etlanta.”  They can also be identified by the shit they cart around – pillows, teddy bears, all their luggage, blankies, etc.  This is tricky, but sometimes you can pick them out by what they wear.  Clothes that look like pajamas, 4 inch spike heeled shoes, a fleece lined tobaggan in Miami in August, you get the idea. 

Infrequent flyers bog down security lines, they are either in such a hurry they run over everyone to get to their gate 2 hours before their flight, or they are so slow they delay everyone.  They stop in the middle of busy terminals, right in the middle of the corridors and cause others to slam into them or injure themselves trying not to slam into them.  They have luggage they cannot handle alone.  I think every traveler knows you must be able to handle your own luggage as there aren’t friendly sky caps on each plane to assist you in lifting that 75 pound carry on into the overhead bin.  Infrequent flyers do not know this. 

Infrequent flyers get really really mad if a flight is delayed or cancelled.  They love to blame the particular airline they are flying for the personal insult of a cancelled flight.  You’ve heard them, “I’m never flying Delta again, every time it rains in Atlanta they cancel MY flight.”  What infrequent flyers do not realize is that when it rains in Atlanta, they cancel everyone’s flight or greatly delay them all.  Infrequent flyers do not realize that most airlines operate the same way.  There are cancelled flights, weather delays, mechanical problems, lost luggage, etc. 

An infrequent flyer will take one issue on one flight and damn that particular airline.  My favorite is a good friend of mine who says he will never fly AirTran because they are just horrible.  He is basing his “fact” on a story told to him by a friend who was with a group flying from Memphis to Charlotte through Atlanta.  One of the flights was delayed a long time and the group had a long layover in Atlanta and then their luggage was lost.  That one travel experience he “heard” about was enough to convince him that AirTran was the worst airline in the US.  I did laugh at him when he told this story as AirTran is one of my favorite airlines to fly.  I have issues with them, sure, but overall, AirTran is a good airline for a frequent flyer. 

Infrequent flyers will bitch about one airline screwing up all the time, yet if you ask them how many times they have flown, the answer is usually less than 10.  If you ask them what other airlines they have flown other than the offending airline, it is unusual if they have flown any other.  So they base their expert assessment of the airline based on 10 flights with one airline over the course of several years.  And they are SO SMART!

I was lucky enough to get in an unusually long security line behind a group of teenagers. Their parents were sticking with them until the last possible moment to make sure they managed to get through OK.  My thoughts are that if you are sending your kid on a plane somewhere on a school/church trip, let’s hope they can stand in line with everyone else without something going so wrong Mommy and Daddy have to be there to take care of it for them. 

To make my long wait even more unpleasant, there was an infrequent flyer behind me traveling with his little sweetie, who had never flown before.  He was telling EVERYTHING about air travel.  Most of his instructions were of “this is nothing, just wait” variety.  He never explained what might be coming next, but his tone of voice let us all know it would not be much fun.  His little sweetie looked more anxious with each story. 

As I was approaching the table, where I can get my laptop out, shoes off and one-quart zip lock bag of liquids 3 ounces or less into the bin in less than 5 seconds, a mother of a teenager was attempting to argue with the TSA agent about her daughter’s contraband 5 ounce tube of toothpaste.  Mom kept saying “someone told me it the limit was 6 ounces.”  Yeah, that’s a good arguement dimwit. 

It is on billboards, signage, announcements and every travel related website on the face of the planet and in outer space:  3-1-1….3 ounces or less.  1 quart zip lock bag.  1 bag per passengar.  The fact that “someone” told her she could pack 6 ounce containers would have been cause to point and laugh hysterically at the mom, but I was busy getting my stuff through security. 

I was insulted a bit when the TSA agent asked me twice if I had liquids in my travel bag.  My liquids were in their travel-worn zip lock bag, in plain sight on top of my sweater in the bin.  He gave me that condenscending look like I was in the third grade and said “are you sure, ma’am?  Sometimes you girls’s lotions and stuff gets in the bottom of your bag.”

I gave him a go to hell look and smiled, “Yes, I am sure.”  I travel almost every single week.  I have been traveling like this for over 10 years.  I do not appreciate being mistaken for an idiot infrequent flyer who gets their incorrect air travel instructions from “someone.” 

Upon boarding the flight, a little old lady, probably in her late 70’s, was struggling to get her huge carry on down the aisle.  Why do this?  Seriously.  Check your bags people.  It is so convenient and makes the rest of us less likely to want to cuss you out.  Little Old Lady could barely pull her bag down the aisle, there was no way she was going to lift it.  I am a good samaritan of sorts and I usually jump up to assist people who look like they need it.  But I was not inclined to jump up and help Little Old Lady.  She left her bag in the aisle and took her seat.  A flight attendant realized the bag was blocking the aisle and for the sake of an on-time departure, he hoisted it into the overhead. 

Little Old Lady commented to her seat mate, “Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to do.  You just leave it in the aisle and a nice man will come put it in the bin for you.”

Infrequent flyers do not know the deplaning etiquette and this is where many frequent flyers risk injury.  There is an unspoken order in getting off the plane, but infrequent flyers do not know this, nor are they astute enough to notice what everyone else getting off the plane is doing so they barge down the aisle and will run over you if you get up when it is your turn.  It’s like watching for Mack trucks running redlights.  Here they come!

Infrequent flyers are not going away and neither am I.  Although they annoy me and I wish there were separate security lines for them and special planes they could all ride on together, they do provide me endless laughs and fodder for my blog posts.