Thursday, May 28, 2009

Some will win, some will lose, some were born to sing the blues...

As you may recall from my blog devoted entirely to being lost, taking the wrong subway train, and other such exasperating matters - I don't have the best luck with travel sometimes.

Yesterday was no exception.  

After saying goodbye to everyone, including that rat that scurried across the sidewalk as I left Liebling's apartment (is a brown rat crossing your path bad luck?), I spent my last morning tying up loose ends, going to the credit union (since my friggin' card was 'misplaced') and getting my last cup of PinkBerry for the trip.  I then grabbed my backpack and suitcase and headed to the Broadway/Nassau station to hop on the A train to Far Rockaway, getting off at Howard Beach.  The train was faster than anticipated and I hopped on the Airtrain to get to the correct terminal.  Sure I accidentally got off at terminal 7 thinking I was flying United again, but I corrected my error thanks to the Crackberry and made it to Terminal 8 with an hour and a half before my flight was to depart.

Cue American Airlines SHIT SHOW.  Really, Am-Air?  After dragging my suitcase into some labyrinth of nylon tape I was directed to go to another line in another area, "Go all the way to the end" she said.  I went.  I had to do the self check-in on a machine which is less user friendly than the ones at the Juneau or Seattle or even San Francisco airports (must just be Am-Air) and then I was in a line to check my bag - for $15.  First there wasn't so much a line as a giant mass of frustrated travelers.  Then there were a number of lines.  Then the jerk-face at the head of my line made us all get into one line, pushing me further back.  Then there were people accidentally in the non-existent line being served, then there were people who were slow and in the way, then there was a woman who couldn't find her passport.  Then there was me.  

"You're too late."  I stare incredulously.  "Too late?"  Then, upset because I totally called it, telling the woman that if I miss my flight because of this shit show, I would be pissed.  Did I jinx myself?  "I'm to late?  No.  I can't be too late.  I'm only late at all because of this FUCKING SHIT SHOW!"  Oops.  I opened my mouth and not so nice things came out.  The man, of some South Asian descent, told shoved my passport and cash back at me and told me to get out of his line, that he would not help me.  Not that he was helping me anyway.  Desperate and upset, I asked the other woman (who knew what she was doing and friggin' went at a speed not metaphorically similar to a snail or a three-toed sloth) and she told me to go to this place - TICKETING.

After waiting in another really long line (my original flight not departing for another 20 minutes at least) I made it to the front of the line.  "Where are you going?" asks the woman.  "Seattle."  Oh, it's too late.  "Yes.  That's why I'm at the ticketing counter.  Can I get another flight?"  After a few minutes I was told that I'd be put on another flight to Seattle.  That left the same time the next day (today).  Ugh!  I walked away, frustrated.  Then I walked right back and asked about my connecting flight to Redmond, Oregon.  "Oh, on standby."


Talking to my mom about how upset I was, the first thing she could say was, "Well I don't have any money to help you."

Great.  Not that I was counting on it, but it just wasn't the conversation I needed.  And since I was going to miss seeing my grandma.  And since my sister isn't actually popping out a baby just yet.  And since my bank account was a little lower than I'd have liked.  And since I was second guessing retaking ownership of my car anyway.  I determined that instead of my AlCan adventure, I would just go home to Juneau.

Defeat?  Maybe.  But I'm fine.  Better, perhaps.  Better because I can go back to work, make money, pay rent next month, buy food, etc.  Oh, and maybe pay bills.  Listing the credit card companies in my phone as "Douchebags" and "Fucking Jerk Faces" and changing the ringtone to mute isn't the most effective way to deal with finances.  

Looks like I'll be back to Juneau, my lovely little town, where everyone knows me and most love me.  

This sounds really self centered and silly but OMG was it frustrating to be so anonymous that I didn't get hit on (except by a select few CREEPERS) and didn't get drinks bought for me and I didn't even have random conversations with interesting people.  Good thing I already knew people in this town.  City.  Whatever.  

Well, now I'm off to try it all again.  This time leaving about an hour earlier, taking the Long Island Railroad, and I'm not taking any crap from any little old ladies or slow friggin' clerks this time.  No way.

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