"Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again"
Airports...are ruining my life.
How about that for dramatic for ya? Yes, I stand by my assertion. I'm leaving for Dulles again in about half an hour, hopefully. I was just there on Wednesday. Nothing about this week is making me like airports any more than I did, and I already pretty much hate the places. Flying, yes, major love. Airports, with the waiting and the lack of an escape route and the potential to be stranded without food or water, are just simply disconcerting to me.
Well, on Wednesday I spent a total of fours hours in a car getting lost and missing exits and being blinded by furious downpourings of rainwater and wishing unfruitfully to be hit by lightning on my little airport excursion. I don't know how this seems to keep happening to me, but I swear some roads just have a habit of disappearing. Some of you know about the disappearing driveway incident -- driving down a country road after dark one night, miss a turn, turn around in a driveway, go back the next day and look for said driveway and it's NOT THERE. It's actually never reappeared, to my knowledge. Well, that pretty much happened to me again, except this time it was with the airport exit, which is a fairly significant road to have disappear on you. To make it even better, I hadn't eaten in six hours, and I'm hypoglycemic, and my body spiraled into a panic attack to force me to eat something, and I called my mom up in a panic, and yes, Mom, I pulled over and ate something. I felt better then. Before, I really did feel like Armageddon was upon us. I love irrationality. I love even more that I can blame it on low blood sugar and casually go about the rest of my day, humming quietly to myself about how I'm not REALLY crazy.
And then, tonight. I hesitate to write about tonight, because I know who reads my blog (Every single one of you -- yes, you, I can see you right now, I have your IP address and everything, don't think you can hide from me. Okay, well, maybe you can, but if you commented, then I would know, and I would be happy, because I like commenting and readership camaraderie.), and he already feels bad about it, but oh well. All I can say is, Don't feel bad, it's oppressive and terrible incidents like these that will give me the tortured genius appeal that will cause my novels to sell like hotcakes. And then I shall give you nice presents at Christmas. So, tonight. My father has spent the last week in Orlando at some kind of "business conference" (read: he was sitting by the pool sipping martinis all week and getting his picture taken with Goofy, I KNOW HIM), and is now returning home. It is my job to go fetch him from the airport. Except his flight time cuts right into the middle of my Friday night. Malls close at 10, United! Do not schedule your flights to make it impossible for me to obtain the Express editor pants I have been coveting for lo, these many weeks. I will write nasty letters to your executives should this happen again! And it gets better...I could've made a (short) mall run, except his flight was delayed. And better yet...it's still being delayed. I now have no idea when it's coming in, and I'm hoping and praying the storms that are supposed to afflict our area will hold back until his plane lands and the passengers exit, otherwise WHO KNOWS how long I will spend sitting in the Arrivals line at Dulles.
Wish me luck, everyone.
P.S. I was going to write something on here about dollar bills and tolls and whatnot, but it just never happened, so just pretend I did and don't ask any questions.
How about that for dramatic for ya? Yes, I stand by my assertion. I'm leaving for Dulles again in about half an hour, hopefully. I was just there on Wednesday. Nothing about this week is making me like airports any more than I did, and I already pretty much hate the places. Flying, yes, major love. Airports, with the waiting and the lack of an escape route and the potential to be stranded without food or water, are just simply disconcerting to me.
Well, on Wednesday I spent a total of fours hours in a car getting lost and missing exits and being blinded by furious downpourings of rainwater and wishing unfruitfully to be hit by lightning on my little airport excursion. I don't know how this seems to keep happening to me, but I swear some roads just have a habit of disappearing. Some of you know about the disappearing driveway incident -- driving down a country road after dark one night, miss a turn, turn around in a driveway, go back the next day and look for said driveway and it's NOT THERE. It's actually never reappeared, to my knowledge. Well, that pretty much happened to me again, except this time it was with the airport exit, which is a fairly significant road to have disappear on you. To make it even better, I hadn't eaten in six hours, and I'm hypoglycemic, and my body spiraled into a panic attack to force me to eat something, and I called my mom up in a panic, and yes, Mom, I pulled over and ate something. I felt better then. Before, I really did feel like Armageddon was upon us. I love irrationality. I love even more that I can blame it on low blood sugar and casually go about the rest of my day, humming quietly to myself about how I'm not REALLY crazy.
And then, tonight. I hesitate to write about tonight, because I know who reads my blog (Every single one of you -- yes, you, I can see you right now, I have your IP address and everything, don't think you can hide from me. Okay, well, maybe you can, but if you commented, then I would know, and I would be happy, because I like commenting and readership camaraderie.), and he already feels bad about it, but oh well. All I can say is, Don't feel bad, it's oppressive and terrible incidents like these that will give me the tortured genius appeal that will cause my novels to sell like hotcakes. And then I shall give you nice presents at Christmas. So, tonight. My father has spent the last week in Orlando at some kind of "business conference" (read: he was sitting by the pool sipping martinis all week and getting his picture taken with Goofy, I KNOW HIM), and is now returning home. It is my job to go fetch him from the airport. Except his flight time cuts right into the middle of my Friday night. Malls close at 10, United! Do not schedule your flights to make it impossible for me to obtain the Express editor pants I have been coveting for lo, these many weeks. I will write nasty letters to your executives should this happen again! And it gets better...I could've made a (short) mall run, except his flight was delayed. And better yet...it's still being delayed. I now have no idea when it's coming in, and I'm hoping and praying the storms that are supposed to afflict our area will hold back until his plane lands and the passengers exit, otherwise WHO KNOWS how long I will spend sitting in the Arrivals line at Dulles.
Wish me luck, everyone.
P.S. I was going to write something on here about dollar bills and tolls and whatnot, but it just never happened, so just pretend I did and don't ask any questions.
posted by juxtaposer at 4:42 PM
5 Comments:
I went to Dullus once.It was at the end of a long dark road , but bran new road. When I got there all it was , was huge field of mud ,a gigantic bulldozer ,and allready bilt ,that swope roof terminal.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
I hate the airport, too. I hate driving to the airport. I hate going through the tunnel to get to the airport. I hate the traffic that backs up all the way to the MassPike tunnel at the aiport. And I hate that blasted $3.00 toll you have to pay to get out of the airport. As if it wasn't bad enough to be there, they make you pay to leave????
Crisp dollar bills and quarters...
Airports = Great people-watching-places.
I ♥ PDX.
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