America F'in West

I’ve joked about this place before, but this time it’s for real – seriously – I think I just visited Idiot Island. I could’ve sworn it was the Indianapolis “International” Airport, but no, I must’ve been wrong, it must’ve been Idiot Island. Mare, Mibs, it truly exists, it does.

My travel day (I’m finally heading back to LA, I feel like I’ve been going for like a year, but it’s only been two weeks) has been hell on wheels. Hell in a handbasket. I of course started it all by myself. I showed up plenty early for my flight, checked in, my parents left…and then I realized that I left my laptop behind… Not in the car, at my house, 30 minutes (going fast) away. Dick and Jane are lucky for me amazingly wonderful and awesome, thank you Mom for going 65 in a 30 and other such moves.

Laptop in hand, I proceed through security. I want to ask btw, who wears 4 inch wedge sandals that wrap three times around the ankle to the airport? And take like 2 minutes a shoe to put on? I’ll tell you. It’s me. I’m dumb. Anyway, I run down to my gate, guess what, not even boarding yet (it was like 20 minutes past boarding time). Mechanical problems. It quickly becomes apparent, by the long line at the desk, that the plane is not being repaired anytime soon, or soonish, or like, ever.

I want to ask a quick question: how on earth does an airline put a plane at a gate, without even bothering to make sure that the plane works? Do you think fireman show up at burning buildings without knowing if their hoses are in working condition? Do you think a surgeon shows up to operate without ensuring that his instruments are in order? Does a consultant ever walk into a client presentation without proofing his deck? I think not. I say no.

So anyway. I get in line. Oh btw, I’m sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff right now. So I’m still in a really bitchy mood. I haven’t smiled in like an hour. I think I’ve tried in fact to see if the term “dagger eyes” holds any literal meaning (I don’t think it does). Oh, ok, so then. I tried calling the airline (America West btw) while I’m in line b/c it’s so f’in slow, but they can’t do anything b/c the gate agents haven’t bothered to change the status. So, when I get up there, this woman, I can’t remember her name, so I’ll call her Ms. Dumbest Woman I’ve Ever Met, takes 5 years to book me on a flight on American. She can’t do a damn thing herself. If you checked the entry in Webster’s for “incompetent” I shit you not you’d find a pic of Ms. Dumbest Woman I’ve Ever Met. Anyway, Ms. DWIEM (very close to “dim…” kind of…coincidence?) With the aid of other dumb woman they book me. First I have to go down to the baggage carousel and reclaim my 80 pounds of luggage. Then I have to go to the complete opposite end of the airport and recheck into American.

I do this. I get down there. The guy is like, “well, they didn’t really book you. I mean, they booked you, but they didn’t complete the transaction correctly. So…” I don’t know what they really did, but they didn’t actually book me. So for doing absolutely nothing constructive, they sure did make me walk a long way, and they sure did take their sweet ass time. I still haven’t taken off, btw.

Anyway, the guy calls the America West counter. Gets off. He’s like, “Oh, umm, so it doesn’t matter. They said to just go back. I guess your original plane is now leaving.” Awesome. I am so happy now. Really, I am so happy that I get to take my 80 pounds of luggage back across the damn airport so I can re-check into the flight and then go through security again. I march up to the America West counter and kind of just start blabbering. Blabbering angry style. It might be said that my voice was elevated. It’s possible I was yelling. I might have been slightly mean. I might have apologized. Anyway, I got my second boarding pass for the same flight and returned to security. The guy who looks at your ticket was like, “um, haven’t you already been through?” “Yes. I have.” He asked why I was back. I told him not to ask.

I tried to sneak through security w/out taking off my shoes. Didn’t work.

The beautiful thing is I’m sure I would’ve made my connection had I been on the American flight, but this America West was supposed to leave at 5:30, and it’s 7 and I’m still on the ground and I believe I had an hour layover…so I’ll let you do the math there.

The thing that probably pissed me off the most are how people were all like so f’in nice to Ms. DWIEM when they boarded. Like, “Oh, gosh, you sure have had a long night!” You know what I would’ve liked to say? I would’ve like to tell her how f’in stupid she is. Or perhaps, "f you." Or maybe, "Hey! you! go to hell!" But, I didn't.

Well, glorious. It’s now 7:15 and I’m still sitting here on the damn ground. And I’m getting hungry now. But we all know planes don’t serve food anymore unless you want to like pay for it and I swear I will never actually purchase food from an airplane given that it tastes like shit.

Ok. I have to put this away now. We may actually be leaving. Then again maybe we won’t. Who knows. Did I mention that my bags got lost by the airlines last weekend going from Boston to Buffalo? b/c they did. Airlines suck.

PS: I’m in the air now. Watching The Sentinel. Ever seen that? It’s like one of those presidential movies. And BTW, I’m drinking a bloody mary. Past tense actually. I already drank it. And, for the record, I NEVER drink on planes. I lie. I have, once, on my way to Whistler last year. And that was only to take the edge off sitting next to, well, I won’t write who I was sitting next to here, but you would’ve had a bloody mary, too. Ok then. I’m now going to write my “reorientation” memo. That’s right. For like 9 hours on Friday I’ll be at school talking about what I did for my summer vacation. Am I 26? Or, am I 6?