Oh Woe is Me, or On Fleeting.
I made it finally. To say the least, my flights into Columbia were miserable, but I'm just glad to be home.
To recap:
My flight from Portland to Denver was scheduled to leave at 6:20am. I awake Friday morning at 3:55 am in order to walk over to the Rose Quarter and get on the red line MAX to the airport. I arrive, around 5:00am-ish and the airport is a zoo. People were everywhere.
Luckily, I thought, the check in counter for my airline, Frontier, was relatively open. I wait in the small line and begin to hear mumblings of Flight 102 being canceled. Low and behold, my flight is flight 102. Shit. I go to the counter anyway to find out the scoop on my options. The lady informed me that I was booked for a 6:20am flight still, but only with Alaska Airlines, the airline that housed most of the people in the said zoo. Fuck. Faced with absolutely no options, I tightened my belt and got ready for the line.
I picked a random line, I admit. The sign above it said "Check In" and the Frontier lady told me that all I needed to do was check in. So I waited, and waited. 30 minutes passed and apparently I was in the wrong line all together. To make matters worse, the lady berated me for it. I don't think I've given a person such a nasty look and sarcastic sorry (that'll show her!). She tells me I have to wait in the Customer Service line (still not sure the distinction between the two lines). The Customer Service line was wrapped haphazardly near the door. My cell phone said it was 5:50 by now. I had 30 minutes to get to my flight, period. I don't think our hero is going to make it folks.
I waited in another line. This one taking much longer (now in reflection I realize the times I quoted most people that would actually LISTEN to this yarn were pretty wrong). I stood in that line until just after 7am only for the desk person (who was a lot nicer) to tell me that I had missed my flight and that they didn't have anything until 8:10 pm that evening. To top it off, I needed to arrange that through my old airline.
So I waited in another line, this one much shorter, and arranged my new flight plans. I had to options, fly out that night, sleep at the Denver aiport, get up and catch an early morning flight to Kansas City, or do it all on Saturday. I chose to fly out Friday night.
Another MAX ride back home with luggage in tow. The only bright spot in my day could have been the Whole Foods coffee and breakfast burrito, what would be my only meal of the day, but was very delicious. A lot of Best Show podcasts, tv shows and thank god I downloaded the Office, or I might have slit my wrist. I managed to squeeze in an hour nap, drink 3 High Lifes, and catch up with every person that expected me that night. Then it was back to the airport.
This time went pretty smoothly although I did get flagged for a random security check, which seemed to be the airline's way of really stressing their dislike for me. I stepped in this machine that sprayed 6 blasts of air all over me (the first, which I was not expecting made me jump, to the delight of the cat embroidered obese lady behind me who ran off her mouth a lot), then they swabbed everything in my bag, threw it in a machine which would apparently beep if I wasn't a terrorist and not beep if I was. It beeped and I got to put my shoes back on.
The flight was fine and I caught up on a lot of neglected reading. I had decided to wait until Denver to eat some food because a Starbucks scone sounded disgusting. The plane served me some really gross Rice Cracker mix that had a bunch of artificial colorings in it.
We touch down in Denver and I prepare myself for a night alone in an airport. I tried to recall what those kids in that Fez movie did in the previews for that Holiday movie coming out soon. Maybe I could ride the luggage turnstyle? Maybe I could make additions to the creepy mural they have about America featuring people in caskets. Or maybe I could just get a little toasty in one of their bars. None of the above occurred because everything was closed. The task of sleeping in an airport was daunting enough, but now I have to do it sober, and hungry?
I found my gate and set up camp. I paid the eight fucking dollars for WiFi which only lasted me maybe an hour because my battery lost charge. I opted for episodes of the State and the Office on my iPod from there on until my eyes couldn't stay open. I laid down on the ground with a large light directly before me. Every 15 minutes brought an ominous voice telling me that if I leave my luggage unattended, they are going to destroy it. I slept on my bag, with my peacoat on top of it and the strap of my bag wrapped around my body. Firmly clinching my cellphone set to alarm at 5am, I slept with my glasses on and my stocking cap pulled over my face.
I awoke, sore, to a man who also slept nearby, leaning against the arrival/departure monitors staring at me. I composed myself, took a lazer and headed to McDonald's knowing it was the only thing open by now.
After eating some disgusting egg and cheese sandwiches, I sat patiently for my flight to board. The flight was fine, I nodded off through most of it and I had my whole row of seats to myself. I was glad to arrive in Kansas City and see my mom.
Back in Columbia, I opted to not take a nap and instead go for a drive and then over to Jace's house to watch some tv and drink some beers. I stayed at Jace's for most of the evening with his wife Katie and Katie's mom Connie and we ate some pizza (thanks dudes!) and played some board game with the word Pickle in it. I lost.
Afterwards, we headed to Eastside Tavern where there was an art show and some bands were playing, one band of which was my friend David's band, Bum with a Dog. The art was awful, one showing including a dude's pen drawing of different baseball scenes of players and another included someone taking a page from the paper and applying minimal ink to it. Bad bad bad. Bum with a Dog killed and even covered the Ergs' "Books About Miles Davis" and dedicated it to me. I nearly jumped on the drums for the song, but decided that it might be in bad form and that I might sound like shit considering I haven't played drums in nearly 5 months. A "band" called This is my Condition played next, which consisted of a gent playing a drum set with a guitar placed across the snare and floor tom. He played both simultaneously and it was mind blowing. So fucking great. Unfortunately I had to leave midway through from sheer exhaustion.
******
I just got back from having some drinks with Nathan and his girlfriend Marna. I left midway through writing this, so if the writing is bad after the pictures, I deeply apologize; I've imbibed a few. Anyway, we had a nice time. Shakespeare's followed by some porch/living room action. We chatted it up and watched the This is my Condition DVD.
Tomorrow consists of much needed coffee and then some light Christmas shopping in which I will try to stretch the little money I have in order to appease my family (well, some of it. Most know that I'm too broke to buy anything for myself, let alone others, some just don't realize. Which is a story in itself...). And then? I don't know, there's talks of going out again. I have phone calls to make. The nice part about 3 weeks here is I get to see everyone I would want to see at least once. The bad part is, well, being away from home and possibly seeing people that I'm just getting to know. BUT, let's make the most of Columbia. Shall we?
m welch
To recap:
My flight from Portland to Denver was scheduled to leave at 6:20am. I awake Friday morning at 3:55 am in order to walk over to the Rose Quarter and get on the red line MAX to the airport. I arrive, around 5:00am-ish and the airport is a zoo. People were everywhere.
Luckily, I thought, the check in counter for my airline, Frontier, was relatively open. I wait in the small line and begin to hear mumblings of Flight 102 being canceled. Low and behold, my flight is flight 102. Shit. I go to the counter anyway to find out the scoop on my options. The lady informed me that I was booked for a 6:20am flight still, but only with Alaska Airlines, the airline that housed most of the people in the said zoo. Fuck. Faced with absolutely no options, I tightened my belt and got ready for the line.
I picked a random line, I admit. The sign above it said "Check In" and the Frontier lady told me that all I needed to do was check in. So I waited, and waited. 30 minutes passed and apparently I was in the wrong line all together. To make matters worse, the lady berated me for it. I don't think I've given a person such a nasty look and sarcastic sorry (that'll show her!). She tells me I have to wait in the Customer Service line (still not sure the distinction between the two lines). The Customer Service line was wrapped haphazardly near the door. My cell phone said it was 5:50 by now. I had 30 minutes to get to my flight, period. I don't think our hero is going to make it folks.
I waited in another line. This one taking much longer (now in reflection I realize the times I quoted most people that would actually LISTEN to this yarn were pretty wrong). I stood in that line until just after 7am only for the desk person (who was a lot nicer) to tell me that I had missed my flight and that they didn't have anything until 8:10 pm that evening. To top it off, I needed to arrange that through my old airline.
So I waited in another line, this one much shorter, and arranged my new flight plans. I had to options, fly out that night, sleep at the Denver aiport, get up and catch an early morning flight to Kansas City, or do it all on Saturday. I chose to fly out Friday night.
Another MAX ride back home with luggage in tow. The only bright spot in my day could have been the Whole Foods coffee and breakfast burrito, what would be my only meal of the day, but was very delicious. A lot of Best Show podcasts, tv shows and thank god I downloaded the Office, or I might have slit my wrist. I managed to squeeze in an hour nap, drink 3 High Lifes, and catch up with every person that expected me that night. Then it was back to the airport.
This time went pretty smoothly although I did get flagged for a random security check, which seemed to be the airline's way of really stressing their dislike for me. I stepped in this machine that sprayed 6 blasts of air all over me (the first, which I was not expecting made me jump, to the delight of the cat embroidered obese lady behind me who ran off her mouth a lot), then they swabbed everything in my bag, threw it in a machine which would apparently beep if I wasn't a terrorist and not beep if I was. It beeped and I got to put my shoes back on.
The flight was fine and I caught up on a lot of neglected reading. I had decided to wait until Denver to eat some food because a Starbucks scone sounded disgusting. The plane served me some really gross Rice Cracker mix that had a bunch of artificial colorings in it.
We touch down in Denver and I prepare myself for a night alone in an airport. I tried to recall what those kids in that Fez movie did in the previews for that Holiday movie coming out soon. Maybe I could ride the luggage turnstyle? Maybe I could make additions to the creepy mural they have about America featuring people in caskets. Or maybe I could just get a little toasty in one of their bars. None of the above occurred because everything was closed. The task of sleeping in an airport was daunting enough, but now I have to do it sober, and hungry?
I found my gate and set up camp. I paid the eight fucking dollars for WiFi which only lasted me maybe an hour because my battery lost charge. I opted for episodes of the State and the Office on my iPod from there on until my eyes couldn't stay open. I laid down on the ground with a large light directly before me. Every 15 minutes brought an ominous voice telling me that if I leave my luggage unattended, they are going to destroy it. I slept on my bag, with my peacoat on top of it and the strap of my bag wrapped around my body. Firmly clinching my cellphone set to alarm at 5am, I slept with my glasses on and my stocking cap pulled over my face.
I awoke, sore, to a man who also slept nearby, leaning against the arrival/departure monitors staring at me. I composed myself, took a lazer and headed to McDonald's knowing it was the only thing open by now.
After eating some disgusting egg and cheese sandwiches, I sat patiently for my flight to board. The flight was fine, I nodded off through most of it and I had my whole row of seats to myself. I was glad to arrive in Kansas City and see my mom.
Back in Columbia, I opted to not take a nap and instead go for a drive and then over to Jace's house to watch some tv and drink some beers. I stayed at Jace's for most of the evening with his wife Katie and Katie's mom Connie and we ate some pizza (thanks dudes!) and played some board game with the word Pickle in it. I lost.
Afterwards, we headed to Eastside Tavern where there was an art show and some bands were playing, one band of which was my friend David's band, Bum with a Dog. The art was awful, one showing including a dude's pen drawing of different baseball scenes of players and another included someone taking a page from the paper and applying minimal ink to it. Bad bad bad. Bum with a Dog killed and even covered the Ergs' "Books About Miles Davis" and dedicated it to me. I nearly jumped on the drums for the song, but decided that it might be in bad form and that I might sound like shit considering I haven't played drums in nearly 5 months. A "band" called This is my Condition played next, which consisted of a gent playing a drum set with a guitar placed across the snare and floor tom. He played both simultaneously and it was mind blowing. So fucking great. Unfortunately I had to leave midway through from sheer exhaustion.
******
I just got back from having some drinks with Nathan and his girlfriend Marna. I left midway through writing this, so if the writing is bad after the pictures, I deeply apologize; I've imbibed a few. Anyway, we had a nice time. Shakespeare's followed by some porch/living room action. We chatted it up and watched the This is my Condition DVD.
Tomorrow consists of much needed coffee and then some light Christmas shopping in which I will try to stretch the little money I have in order to appease my family (well, some of it. Most know that I'm too broke to buy anything for myself, let alone others, some just don't realize. Which is a story in itself...). And then? I don't know, there's talks of going out again. I have phone calls to make. The nice part about 3 weeks here is I get to see everyone I would want to see at least once. The bad part is, well, being away from home and possibly seeing people that I'm just getting to know. BUT, let's make the most of Columbia. Shall we?
m welch
posted by mwelch at 8:44 PM
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