Thanks to my very generous, very kind cousin, I had a flight scheduled to take me home so that I could attend family festivities for the greatest holiday of the year (Thanksgiving, folks). I have not been home for Thanksgiving since 2003, and so I am thrilled to be here. I hope it lives up to all my memories.
On the non-stop flight from Salt Lake to Cincinnati, I was assigned the seat 6B, which any frequent flier knows is a middle seat. Ugh! My luck with middle seats is not great. I usually end up between two very large, very smelly sorts of folks, and....
Honestly, I was just grateful that I had a seat.
I was the first to arrive in my row, so I sat down and waited, anticipating having to get up for the person who had the window seat. After a few minutes, a very cute bearded man with incredible brown/green eyes sat down with a friendly, "How's it goin'?" We watched as other people boarded the plane looking for their seat assignments, always targeting their glance further down the aisle. We were seated second row in economy, and so it was easy to see that each person was looking for a larger number than row six.
After a while, Beard mentioned that he thought that the passengers were likely to be all loaded, and we were not going to have someone sitting at the window.
I'm just not that lucky, and I told him so. I was going to wait a few more minutes, because they hadn't shut the door yet, and so it was very likely that the passenger was late, but most certainly on his way. The passengers were coming fewer and further between. And then they started coming in sucking wind, evidence that they had just run the length of the airport in order to catch their flight.
Every time someone appeared at the end of the first class cabin, my neighbor and I held our breath, hoping that we did indeed get to claim the extra seat.
"You've gotten my hopes up now," I commented.
"I think we're safe," he said.
I waited just a minute more and then moved over and buckled my seat belt. But the door wasn't shut, and there were still a few more passengers that had to find their seats. A Colts fan walked purposefully to our row and then looked around. We were certain we had his spot.
We held out breath again, waiting for him to ask me to move.
He moved on, and we both sighed in relief.
"I wish they would just close the door," I said.
"Any minute now," he confirmed, looking at his phone.
We talked about how he was a golf caddy, but currently it is off-season, so he just travels. He told me he was from Cincinnati, and asked why I did not fly in to Dayton instead of Cincinnati. We talked about the podunk airport he has to fly out of to leave the area of Oregon where he lives.
And then finally, they announced that the door was shut, and we were pushing off the gate.
Success! I broke out my Kindle, and enjoyed my window seat all the way home.
Showing posts with label airport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label airport. Show all posts
Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, November 18, 2010
First Observations
!!!!!!! I'M IN NEW YORK !!!!!!!!!!
I think I was so nervous this morning, that I didn't dare sleep through my alarm, which is really good considering we just made it to the airport. Luckily, I was all checked in and ready to go, I had no problems with security and I literally just walked on the plane. I also tested out using my passport, which was great to know that I'll be able to get through security without having to break out my soon-to-be-expired license when* I go home for Christmas.
*if
There have been lots of stories on the news about the new scanners that see right through your clothes and how they are mandatory, unless you want to subject yourself to being felt up by TSA. A lot of people are unhappy with this, and I am among them. I think it is invasive and unnecessary. However, whilst Salt Lake City airport does have the new scanners, they aren't mandatory - yet - and so I didn't have to worry about going through it. They do have the technology, though, because I'm pretty sure I've gone through one before. (Unless it was in Ohio... but now I can't remember. I really just try not to think about it too much...) All of these measures that are meant for our safety... ugh. I'm not really one of those people that shares the philosophy of "better safe than sorry" or anything, because I know that I am not a terrorist, or even so much as a security threat, and so yeah, I feel really inconvenienced when they want to look through my clothes or "pat" me down or refuse to let me bring my perfume and shaving cream because they don't meet the required liquid regulations...
Anyway, I love the airport in the morning. People are cranky. I don't know why. The man who made my smoothie - worst smoothie of all time, by the way - was in no way willing to offer a "good morning," smile or...anything. I also saw a man walking around with a flannel cream colored shirt with elk drawings on it, and coordinating camouflage pants. Oh, Utah. I wish I had a picture, because really, I think they should take that look to fashion week.
Upon boarding the plane, I noticed that ALL of the flight attendants were OLD. I've seen a few older attendants in my day, but... not all of them, and not all of them close to retirement age. The man was sort of funny. He would get on the intercom and say, "Good news, everybody!" and then proceed to tell us some pretty good news (e.g. everyone boarded the plane on time, and so we left early; we arrived almost forty minutes early, etc.) but then he finished up his joke with the Geico tagline, and I lost all respect.
I slept for most the flight, but was wide awake when I landed and I must say that that I was extremely disappointed that I did not have a window seat. I would have loved to see the city as we were flying in. I kept trying to get a look, and the guy that was sitting next to the window pointed out three large container ships that were likely bringing in products from China. The ocean looked awesome... at least the part that I could see. At first I thought I was looking at a pod of whales, but I'm sure it was just really big waves, and I guess that's cool.
Because we were early, we had to go on a passenger car, which was this... box-like structure that would lift all the way up to reach the plane, we boarded it, and then lowered down and drove. It was seriously nuts. You couldn't see the driver....
I wandered around the airport for a while, listening to all the different languages and seeing all kinds of people, which I love to do anyway. I was so nervous that I was going to get lost, but I found the air train OK. I was told that I could buy a metro card at the airport, but I didn't see a kiosk so I just hopped on a train and hoped that I would know which stop to get off... I didn't, but I chose a stop that had a very cute, very helpful (and likely gay) man who noticed I looked lost and told me to get on a train - which WAS different than the one I had been on - so that was really, really nice.
The subway was SCARY. Not the people. They all seemed cool. And there were a lot of delicious looking black men... seriously. Colin had warned me that the subway conductors spoke in ebonics, but... it was like no ebonics I ever heard. Are people actually meant to understand them? I am certain that even the black guys on the train had no idea what he was saying. Luckily for them, they knew where they were going.
I managed to get off on the right stop, but once I got off the subway, that is where the trouble started. I found the numbers that I was looking for, but no red lines (like I was told there would be) and no "John Street," which is what I was looking for... So I finally just picked an exit and made my way aboveground. Honestly, I do not like subway stations.
Once again on ground level, I began walking, hoping to just bump into the street I needed. Colin was in a meeting and unable to assist, and my GPS was not picking up any satellites. (Thank you, tall buildings!) So I was on my own and decided to enjoy walking around. Which I did. I saw St. Paul's church and Trinity Church and knew that I was on the wrong path when I hit Wall Street and the giant bull. And, I'm pretty sure I walked past the World Trade Center site... but that is unconfirmed. But I watched people take pictures and then I found a map. As far as maps go, it was helpful, but completely turned around. I had to think backwards in order for it to tell me anything. So I turned around and headed back down Broadway, and found the street I needed.
My first meal experience was an Lenny's. I had a roast beef sandwich, and either I was starving, or it was seriously the best sandwich I've ever had. I am sated and pleased with my purchase.
My overall impression is that the City is nice, but... I am a small town girl at heart. I kept waiting for the subway to empty out, but it only got more and more full! I like to sit and observe, but I don't think anyone appreciated me...I think they thought I was trying to listen to their conversations or something, but that wasn't the case. Anyway, there are tons of people here, obviously, and they all stand on the outside of their buildings and smoke. But for the most part, I've noticed that everyone is really friendly.
Now I am awaiting Colin's arrival and we are on to the midnight showing of Harry Potter.
I think I was so nervous this morning, that I didn't dare sleep through my alarm, which is really good considering we just made it to the airport. Luckily, I was all checked in and ready to go, I had no problems with security and I literally just walked on the plane. I also tested out using my passport, which was great to know that I'll be able to get through security without having to break out my soon-to-be-expired license when* I go home for Christmas.
*if
There have been lots of stories on the news about the new scanners that see right through your clothes and how they are mandatory, unless you want to subject yourself to being felt up by TSA. A lot of people are unhappy with this, and I am among them. I think it is invasive and unnecessary. However, whilst Salt Lake City airport does have the new scanners, they aren't mandatory - yet - and so I didn't have to worry about going through it. They do have the technology, though, because I'm pretty sure I've gone through one before. (Unless it was in Ohio... but now I can't remember. I really just try not to think about it too much...) All of these measures that are meant for our safety... ugh. I'm not really one of those people that shares the philosophy of "better safe than sorry" or anything, because I know that I am not a terrorist, or even so much as a security threat, and so yeah, I feel really inconvenienced when they want to look through my clothes or "pat" me down or refuse to let me bring my perfume and shaving cream because they don't meet the required liquid regulations...
Anyway, I love the airport in the morning. People are cranky. I don't know why. The man who made my smoothie - worst smoothie of all time, by the way - was in no way willing to offer a "good morning," smile or...anything. I also saw a man walking around with a flannel cream colored shirt with elk drawings on it, and coordinating camouflage pants. Oh, Utah. I wish I had a picture, because really, I think they should take that look to fashion week.
Upon boarding the plane, I noticed that ALL of the flight attendants were OLD. I've seen a few older attendants in my day, but... not all of them, and not all of them close to retirement age. The man was sort of funny. He would get on the intercom and say, "Good news, everybody!" and then proceed to tell us some pretty good news (e.g. everyone boarded the plane on time, and so we left early; we arrived almost forty minutes early, etc.) but then he finished up his joke with the Geico tagline, and I lost all respect.
I slept for most the flight, but was wide awake when I landed and I must say that that I was extremely disappointed that I did not have a window seat. I would have loved to see the city as we were flying in. I kept trying to get a look, and the guy that was sitting next to the window pointed out three large container ships that were likely bringing in products from China. The ocean looked awesome... at least the part that I could see. At first I thought I was looking at a pod of whales, but I'm sure it was just really big waves, and I guess that's cool.
Because we were early, we had to go on a passenger car, which was this... box-like structure that would lift all the way up to reach the plane, we boarded it, and then lowered down and drove. It was seriously nuts. You couldn't see the driver....
I wandered around the airport for a while, listening to all the different languages and seeing all kinds of people, which I love to do anyway. I was so nervous that I was going to get lost, but I found the air train OK. I was told that I could buy a metro card at the airport, but I didn't see a kiosk so I just hopped on a train and hoped that I would know which stop to get off... I didn't, but I chose a stop that had a very cute, very helpful (and likely gay) man who noticed I looked lost and told me to get on a train - which WAS different than the one I had been on - so that was really, really nice.
The subway was SCARY. Not the people. They all seemed cool. And there were a lot of delicious looking black men... seriously. Colin had warned me that the subway conductors spoke in ebonics, but... it was like no ebonics I ever heard. Are people actually meant to understand them? I am certain that even the black guys on the train had no idea what he was saying. Luckily for them, they knew where they were going.
I managed to get off on the right stop, but once I got off the subway, that is where the trouble started. I found the numbers that I was looking for, but no red lines (like I was told there would be) and no "John Street," which is what I was looking for... So I finally just picked an exit and made my way aboveground. Honestly, I do not like subway stations.
Once again on ground level, I began walking, hoping to just bump into the street I needed. Colin was in a meeting and unable to assist, and my GPS was not picking up any satellites. (Thank you, tall buildings!) So I was on my own and decided to enjoy walking around. Which I did. I saw St. Paul's church and Trinity Church and knew that I was on the wrong path when I hit Wall Street and the giant bull. And, I'm pretty sure I walked past the World Trade Center site... but that is unconfirmed. But I watched people take pictures and then I found a map. As far as maps go, it was helpful, but completely turned around. I had to think backwards in order for it to tell me anything. So I turned around and headed back down Broadway, and found the street I needed.
My first meal experience was an Lenny's. I had a roast beef sandwich, and either I was starving, or it was seriously the best sandwich I've ever had. I am sated and pleased with my purchase.
My overall impression is that the City is nice, but... I am a small town girl at heart. I kept waiting for the subway to empty out, but it only got more and more full! I like to sit and observe, but I don't think anyone appreciated me...I think they thought I was trying to listen to their conversations or something, but that wasn't the case. Anyway, there are tons of people here, obviously, and they all stand on the outside of their buildings and smoke. But for the most part, I've noticed that everyone is really friendly.
Now I am awaiting Colin's arrival and we are on to the midnight showing of Harry Potter.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Mother's Day
On my return flight from Florida, I had a layover in Cincinnati. Cincinnati airport happens to be about an hour and a half away from home, and when we flew over the Ohio river it made me utterly homesick, and I had this heartbreaking pain from missing my family. I was trapped at an airport, and only an hour and a half away from them! And there was no way I was going to be able to see them before my next flight took me to freaking Utah.
When I'm flying, I hate being in a rush. So I typically go straight to my gate and entertain myself there. That way, if any changes are made in the gates, I have plenty of time to find out and relocate. So I found my gate, made sure it was close and then called my mom to tell her how much I missed her. How much it was killing me that we were so close.
I walked over to the departure screen and noticed that there was another flight that left at 6:50 p.m. instead of the scheduled 4:20 p.m.
"If I pay to change my flight to the later one, will you come?" I ask. Knowing it's a long shot. Knowing that even if she leaves right that second, she won't make it until 5 p.m. and we'd only have an hour. Knowing that it's probably not worth the gas. And there isn't much we can do around the airport or in the airport or for that short amount of time.
"Sure," she responds.
That "sure" was enough. Within minutes, I had switched flights (for absolute FREE) and Mom had gathered all the girls so that they could head to Cincinnati. They hit traffic. We couldn't find anywhere nearby to eat (no one coming/going to the Cincinnati airport likes to eat apparently) and by the time they got there we literally had 60 minutes to spend time with each other.
If this isn't an example of pure love and devotion to her children, I'm not sure what is. I know that I felt incontestably loved.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thank you for being you. Thank you for loving us so well. You're truly the best!!!
Friday, January 22, 2010
You Know They're a True Friend When
they pick you up from the airport.
My Aunt Elouise and I were discussing last night a situation where she and my Uncle Craig were stranded at the airport after Christmas because someone they had counted on to pick them up wouldn't answer their phone call and never did arrive.
My Uncle is an airline pilot and so he has done A LOT of flying in his life for work, for travel and for recreation. And it has always been a saying of his that you know who your true friends are by if they are willing to pick you up or drop you off at the airport.
As I sat and thought of all the times I have gone to the airport and all the friends and family that have dropped me off - I realized that he is exactly right. I always have my closest friends - if not my awesome grandparents - take me to the airport. Because they are reliable. And they are happy to see me when I fly back in (images of Becca and me screaming as we run for an overly-dramatic hug that cause body parts to rip off and eardrums to burst come to mind). Going to the airport is never really convenient. Sometimes it requires taking off work. Most the time it requires waking up way earlier than you ever intend to, or staying up way later than your eyelids can even handle.
So to those of you that have ever driven me to the airport - defying death (Carla) or sleep (everyone else), I thank you. You guys are awesome. And true, true friends.
Post scriptum: I extend this post to some of my friends who were absolutely angry with me when this happened because I had my car in the airport parking lot. When I was telling the story, the first thing they asked was "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME? I could have come to get you." I have so many friends that I can ask to retrieve me from the airport. And that level of comfort, I do not take for granted. My friends/family are absolutely the best.
My Aunt Elouise and I were discussing last night a situation where she and my Uncle Craig were stranded at the airport after Christmas because someone they had counted on to pick them up wouldn't answer their phone call and never did arrive.
My Uncle is an airline pilot and so he has done A LOT of flying in his life for work, for travel and for recreation. And it has always been a saying of his that you know who your true friends are by if they are willing to pick you up or drop you off at the airport.
As I sat and thought of all the times I have gone to the airport and all the friends and family that have dropped me off - I realized that he is exactly right. I always have my closest friends - if not my awesome grandparents - take me to the airport. Because they are reliable. And they are happy to see me when I fly back in (images of Becca and me screaming as we run for an overly-dramatic hug that cause body parts to rip off and eardrums to burst come to mind). Going to the airport is never really convenient. Sometimes it requires taking off work. Most the time it requires waking up way earlier than you ever intend to, or staying up way later than your eyelids can even handle.
So to those of you that have ever driven me to the airport - defying death (Carla) or sleep (everyone else), I thank you. You guys are awesome. And true, true friends.
Post scriptum: I extend this post to some of my friends who were absolutely angry with me when this happened because I had my car in the airport parking lot. When I was telling the story, the first thing they asked was "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME? I could have come to get you." I have so many friends that I can ask to retrieve me from the airport. And that level of comfort, I do not take for granted. My friends/family are absolutely the best.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Airport Observations
Every time I go to the airport, I want to blog about all the amazing observations. After all, between two 3-hour flights and a 3-hour layover, you are bound to see some things that you like, i.e. gorgeous black men; and things that you do not like, i.e. lots of saggy breasts. I will explain...
There was nothing too interesting to report the first day I spent at the airport. Flying stand-by is always a risk - and this time I was not too lucky. I couldn't focus on entertaining myself, because I was too busy trying to figure out if I had a way to get home or not. Or at least to Atlanta. That was a no go. --- How could I have forgotten? When I approached the lady at the ticket counter to see if she could direct me at one point, I watched as she clicked away at her keyboard and then looked up at the tall, intimidating blond in front of her and said, "Could you back up about four steps? I can feel your energy in my space." I'm pretty sure I looked at her in shock and amusement. Who says that? She proceeded to ignore me, and did not seem to want to help me at all. ---
Today - I knew that I had a confirmed ticket. I knew where I stood with relation to time and place and everything went very smoothly. I watched the ticket agent at the gate patiently walk people over to the screens so they could see where there connections were. She didn't make the passengers come to her - she went to them in order to help out. I was very impressed. I wanted to give her a gold star.*
*Wouldn't it be great if I carried around gold stars and awarded people with them whenever I was super impressed with the way they handle a situation or treat a customer? I am not always able to show my thanks to that individual because they aren't helping me directly - and honestly, they might think that I was weird observing them and then commenting on it. BUT, if I were to hand out gold stars...
While waiting to board the plane, I notice a fairly attractive man-boy standing nearby. He happened to have his boarding pass out and he obviously wanted me to see where he was sitting - and - he obviously wanted me to see that he was sitting right next to me! I was mortified and excited all at once. He was cute... but it would be difficult to stare with him sitting so close...
That didn't matter - he started talking to me. I felt like Cady in Mean Girls when she is documenting every conversation she had with Aaron Samuels - "On October 13, he asked to borrow a pencil..." Anyway, I was cataloguing what he was saying. "There's a dog on the flight..." He mentioned with enthusiasm. "You're a pro at this, you read right through the take-off," he said with awe. I tried to come up with witty responses - they never lasted long. However, I did manage to talk enough to learn that he lives in Atlanta where he is about to begin his first year of nursing in order to become an anesthesiologist. He drinks rum and cranapple juice (To which I wanted to say, "I thought only pirates drank rum?" But didn't.) And his brother is getting ready to serve a mission in Nicaragua.
When I landed in Houston, I noticed that women in the Houston airport do not need to wear bras. Nor do they feel the need to cover their extremely saggy breasts. Yes, it is as disgusting as you just imagined. I needn't say more.
Houston airport also serves as a transit place for a lot of really, really good looking men. Of all colors, shapes and sizes. I am OK with this, as I was just looking anyway. When sitting on the sky tram, I was able to observe a whole basketball team (one guy said "Hi," and I took that as my cue to make sure they were basketball players...) and a hot Indian guy (you didn't think they existed, did you? They do) and a man that nearly made me swoon. I only smiled at him - but I was seriously contemplating just letting him know how beautiful he was. I would have given him ALL my gold stars - just for smiling back. Too bad he needed to get off at terminal C.
The sky tram is a great place for people watching. And so watch I did. The sky tram is also very punctual. It takes exactly 7:42:89 minutes to get from terminal B to C to D, E and then back again. Even when it claims that it is being delayed, it does not change times. Which means, my friends, that there is a standard deviation of 0 when it comes to the mean run time of the sky tram. The tram is also a lot more rickety and ghetto than it was when Amy and I rode on it so many years ago. I was grateful that no one else thought to ride the sky tram for longer than they needed to, because I felt like Luna Lovegood (see Harry Potter) staring with a half-smile on my face, content in my odd behavior. The whole time I was biting my tongue because I wanted to ask everyone where they were going or where they had just been.
There was nothing too interesting to report the first day I spent at the airport. Flying stand-by is always a risk - and this time I was not too lucky. I couldn't focus on entertaining myself, because I was too busy trying to figure out if I had a way to get home or not. Or at least to Atlanta. That was a no go. --- How could I have forgotten? When I approached the lady at the ticket counter to see if she could direct me at one point, I watched as she clicked away at her keyboard and then looked up at the tall, intimidating blond in front of her and said, "Could you back up about four steps? I can feel your energy in my space." I'm pretty sure I looked at her in shock and amusement. Who says that? She proceeded to ignore me, and did not seem to want to help me at all. ---
Today - I knew that I had a confirmed ticket. I knew where I stood with relation to time and place and everything went very smoothly. I watched the ticket agent at the gate patiently walk people over to the screens so they could see where there connections were. She didn't make the passengers come to her - she went to them in order to help out. I was very impressed. I wanted to give her a gold star.*
*Wouldn't it be great if I carried around gold stars and awarded people with them whenever I was super impressed with the way they handle a situation or treat a customer? I am not always able to show my thanks to that individual because they aren't helping me directly - and honestly, they might think that I was weird observing them and then commenting on it. BUT, if I were to hand out gold stars...
While waiting to board the plane, I notice a fairly attractive man-boy standing nearby. He happened to have his boarding pass out and he obviously wanted me to see where he was sitting - and - he obviously wanted me to see that he was sitting right next to me! I was mortified and excited all at once. He was cute... but it would be difficult to stare with him sitting so close...
That didn't matter - he started talking to me. I felt like Cady in Mean Girls when she is documenting every conversation she had with Aaron Samuels - "On October 13, he asked to borrow a pencil..." Anyway, I was cataloguing what he was saying. "There's a dog on the flight..." He mentioned with enthusiasm. "You're a pro at this, you read right through the take-off," he said with awe. I tried to come up with witty responses - they never lasted long. However, I did manage to talk enough to learn that he lives in Atlanta where he is about to begin his first year of nursing in order to become an anesthesiologist. He drinks rum and cranapple juice (To which I wanted to say, "I thought only pirates drank rum?" But didn't.) And his brother is getting ready to serve a mission in Nicaragua.
When I landed in Houston, I noticed that women in the Houston airport do not need to wear bras. Nor do they feel the need to cover their extremely saggy breasts. Yes, it is as disgusting as you just imagined. I needn't say more.
Houston airport also serves as a transit place for a lot of really, really good looking men. Of all colors, shapes and sizes. I am OK with this, as I was just looking anyway. When sitting on the sky tram, I was able to observe a whole basketball team (one guy said "Hi," and I took that as my cue to make sure they were basketball players...) and a hot Indian guy (you didn't think they existed, did you? They do) and a man that nearly made me swoon. I only smiled at him - but I was seriously contemplating just letting him know how beautiful he was. I would have given him ALL my gold stars - just for smiling back. Too bad he needed to get off at terminal C.
The sky tram is a great place for people watching. And so watch I did. The sky tram is also very punctual. It takes exactly 7:42:89 minutes to get from terminal B to C to D, E and then back again. Even when it claims that it is being delayed, it does not change times. Which means, my friends, that there is a standard deviation of 0 when it comes to the mean run time of the sky tram. The tram is also a lot more rickety and ghetto than it was when Amy and I rode on it so many years ago. I was grateful that no one else thought to ride the sky tram for longer than they needed to, because I felt like Luna Lovegood (see Harry Potter) staring with a half-smile on my face, content in my odd behavior. The whole time I was biting my tongue because I wanted to ask everyone where they were going or where they had just been.
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