Four states in 10 hours
“Yes, but this is the United States, you pay.” “You burp, you fart, you yell, you pay”I had just asked an apparently jaded Middle Eastern man in a shocking red sport coat if Newark had wi-fi.
I responded with, “Denver Airport has free wi-fi.” As if somehow that would instantly encourage Newark to compete with Rocky Mountain standards.
“Well then, go to Denver.” He staccatoed back. He then ranted something about New York and New Jersey, but I couldn't make out much more than his frustrations about paying for everything.
Four states in 10 hours. You'd think I was going for some kind of record or nationwide scavenger hunt, driven by some new cleaning or teeth-whitening product that was supposedly sponsoring me. Nope, this was my sneaky attempt at a cheap ticket home to surprise my siblings and Expedia had stuck it to me. Not one but two lay-overs. Denver to Indiana to New Jersey then finally Virginia.
My journey started this morning, leaving my Boulder apartment just after sunrise, stopping for a quick breakfast with Paul and a hug for Johnny Whispers before driving to DIA. We'd spend the next two hours in line. For a boarding pass. Paul patiently goofed off with me. We worked up skematics to a new game that I'm sure will soon be popular. It might even make the 2012 Olympics. It consists of standing in line. Not for what's at the end of the line. Just for the enjoyable sake of standing in line. We could go to various attractions just to stand in line. We wouldn't ride the ride, or get the ticket to the concert, or get in to hear presedential hopefuls. We'd simply stand in line. Once reaching the end, we'd leave, or run back to the beginning, to start again. It would be all about the journey and nothing about the reward. These are the things you concoct when standing in lines that are too long for rewards that are too short-lived.
The attendant had the mic to her lips and was just about to call my name when I marched up to the gate flashing my ticket like a badge of a sent for CSI at a crime scene. My popularity quickly waned as I became the latecomer and my carry-on resembled a craze fan at a rock concert as four other passengers lifted it overhead to find room in the bins.
For all the nerve shredding antics that Frontier caused in the boarding pass line (shun the line-cutters) I must admit that both my ticket and my phone said 10:50am as we pulled away from the gate.
The window seat is a bad place to be when you realize that you have to pee as you're racing down the jetway. Two complimentary beverages later I still had to go, only now I was considering squatting over a barf bag. When I could wiggle no longer I turned to the lady next me and said, “I gotta go to the restroom, I don't mind crawling under your legs, but I gotta go.” The gentleman next to her was snoring after three consecutive Bloody Mary's. She immediately started knocking on his arm to get him up. I felt guilty about disturbing the peace but seriously, what else are you going to do on plane? I felt justified when I saw both of them use the bathroom before returning to their seats.
Landing in Indianapolis I was informed that my bag hadn't been on my flight. Excellent. I love getting to my destination without all my bags. I wasn't worried about me, I had a spare outfit in my carry-on. My large duffel contained birthday presents for my aforementioned soon-to-be surprised siblings. Just as I was buckling my seatbelt, a really great ticket agent came onto the plane to inform me my bag had joined me. Extra bag o' peanuts for you, kind sir!
The next flight was attended by a short squatty eye-glassed soon-to-be celebrity. Apparently he was finishing his drink-serving, safety-informing gig and landing in Newark to finish filming “Honey I Shrunk the Kids 3” where he would be playing the dad character from the original version. You'd think he would have been a bit more generous seeing as this was his last flight for a while...I didn't even get mini-pretzel crumbs in a bag.
I made it to Norfolk with 20 minutes to spare. I was sprinting down the concourse so quickly I almost missed my dad. Hugs exchanged we made our way to baggage claim where, sure enough, my bag o' gifts had arrived.
Four states in 10 hours. You'd think I was going for some kind of record or nationwide scavenger hunt, driven by some new cleaning or teeth-whitening product that was supposedly sponsoring me. Nope, this was my sneaky attempt at a cheap ticket home to surprise my siblings and Expedia had stuck it to me. Not one but two lay-overs. Denver to Indiana to New Jersey then finally Virginia.
My journey started this morning, leaving my Boulder apartment just after sunrise, stopping for a quick breakfast with Paul and a hug for Johnny Whispers before driving to DIA. We'd spend the next two hours in line. For a boarding pass. Paul patiently goofed off with me. We worked up skematics to a new game that I'm sure will soon be popular. It might even make the 2012 Olympics. It consists of standing in line. Not for what's at the end of the line. Just for the enjoyable sake of standing in line. We could go to various attractions just to stand in line. We wouldn't ride the ride, or get the ticket to the concert, or get in to hear presedential hopefuls. We'd simply stand in line. Once reaching the end, we'd leave, or run back to the beginning, to start again. It would be all about the journey and nothing about the reward. These are the things you concoct when standing in lines that are too long for rewards that are too short-lived.
The attendant had the mic to her lips and was just about to call my name when I marched up to the gate flashing my ticket like a badge of a sent for CSI at a crime scene. My popularity quickly waned as I became the latecomer and my carry-on resembled a craze fan at a rock concert as four other passengers lifted it overhead to find room in the bins.
For all the nerve shredding antics that Frontier caused in the boarding pass line (shun the line-cutters) I must admit that both my ticket and my phone said 10:50am as we pulled away from the gate.
The window seat is a bad place to be when you realize that you have to pee as you're racing down the jetway. Two complimentary beverages later I still had to go, only now I was considering squatting over a barf bag. When I could wiggle no longer I turned to the lady next me and said, “I gotta go to the restroom, I don't mind crawling under your legs, but I gotta go.” The gentleman next to her was snoring after three consecutive Bloody Mary's. She immediately started knocking on his arm to get him up. I felt guilty about disturbing the peace but seriously, what else are you going to do on plane? I felt justified when I saw both of them use the bathroom before returning to their seats.
Landing in Indianapolis I was informed that my bag hadn't been on my flight. Excellent. I love getting to my destination without all my bags. I wasn't worried about me, I had a spare outfit in my carry-on. My large duffel contained birthday presents for my aforementioned soon-to-be surprised siblings. Just as I was buckling my seatbelt, a really great ticket agent came onto the plane to inform me my bag had joined me. Extra bag o' peanuts for you, kind sir!
The next flight was attended by a short squatty eye-glassed soon-to-be celebrity. Apparently he was finishing his drink-serving, safety-informing gig and landing in Newark to finish filming “Honey I Shrunk the Kids 3” where he would be playing the dad character from the original version. You'd think he would have been a bit more generous seeing as this was his last flight for a while...I didn't even get mini-pretzel crumbs in a bag.
I made it to Norfolk with 20 minutes to spare. I was sprinting down the concourse so quickly I almost missed my dad. Hugs exchanged we made our way to baggage claim where, sure enough, my bag o' gifts had arrived.
posted by jessy at 5:32 PM
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