Messing With My Head

Since Sunday's attempt to get home had been such a charming and fun-filled experience, I decided to try and plan for the unexpected on Monday.

First, I printed out my boarding pass, although not without a bit of trouble, thanks to the airline.

Knowing that they would have over-booked the flight (is there any flight, anywhere these days that isn't?) and that the security lines would be long, I got online as soon as I got back to the condo on Sunday night. After squinting at the scrap of paper they had given me at the airport for about twenty minutes and still not being able to find the confirmation code because I did not hold a doctorate in computer programming, I called the 800 number for help (and I use the term loosely).

After listening to the usual litany of choices that you get whenever you call anywhere anymore, and pressing the numbers 1,2 and 3 in various combinations for fifteen minutes, I finally got through to a real, live person--Michael.

I explained that my flight had been cancelled, I had re-booked, and that I was trying to figure out my confirmation code so I could print my boarding pass.

"Oh, sure," he said, "I'll help you. Just let me transfer your call."

Which he did. Right back to the main menu asking me to press numero dos por espanol!!

Oh. My. God. Now I know where the customer service reps from Comcast go when they get fired.

Gritting my teeth and creating various scenarios in my head involving Michael and heavy farm equipment running amok, I sat through the interminably long list of options...again. This time, I got Susan, who seemed genuinely concerned over what Michael had done and wanted to help me, but we kept getting cut off. And now I know where the people from Verizon go when they are fired.

Why were these people messing with my head? Did they not realize how close to postal I was?

Eventually though, I got my pass and continued to plan for my return trip.

I didn't strip the bed or pack away my jammies since my mother was convinced that's what jinxed me the day before. I left for the airport waaaaaay earlier than the previous day and chose a playlist on my ipod that had 413 songs, which I figured I could get through seven or eight times while standing in the security line. And finally, I ate a really big lunch and brought lots of chocolate.

I arrived at the airport to find that all of my precautions were completely unnecessary. There was a grand total of exactly four people ahead of me in the security line and three x-ray machines. Helloooo? Wasn't this supposed to be a Holiday Weekend????? Where were all the people that should have been in front of me, making me crazy? This confirmed it. The airlines were trying to mess with my head. I kept looking around expecting the crowd to jump out any minute and yell, "surprise!"

Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth though, I headed for the nearest x-ray machine... and promptly got flagged for something in my carry-on. The same carry-on that I had breezed through with the day before. The same carry-on I had breezed through with the week before. What was the suspicious item? Turns out my cell phone charger which didn't look the least bit suspicious on Sunday suddenly looked like a weapon of mass destruction on Monday. (Meanwhile, two days later I found my Swiss army knife rolling around the bottom of my purse which I had completely forgotten was there. I guess two prongs and a cord looked dangerous, but the 2-inch blade was fine. Good to know.)

Once I got cleared of all charges by the gestapo, I went straight to the gate only to find the pizza place nearly deserted, lots of seats at the gate and the plane ready and waiting, complete with all the small rubber rings it needed.

Ahhh. But the airlines were not done yet. Yes, we took off on time. But they couldn't let it go. They had to mess with me one more time. As we approached the airport, they made the announcement that we had to turn off all electronic, portable devices, blah, blah, blah...
And then, instead of landing, we circled the airport again, and again, and again.

Finally, I had found the crowd.