Today began simply enough with my granddaughter’s daddy and I bumping into one another in the hallway at their apartment where I’m staying to help with the new baby. He looked at me and said, “You know it’s Friday the thirteenth.”
I nodded and said, “Sure do.”
“Any yet you’re flying today?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
“Yup, and everything will be fine. Have to believe in superstitious stuff for it to affect you, and I don’t,” I said, in a tone that denoted my utter confidence that things would be fine.”
“O-kay,” he said.
We left it at that and finished getting ready, me sipping coffee and putting the last of the things in my suitcase while trying not to think about having to leave. When the time came, I bent down to give Kai a kiss good-bye and choked up in the process, sad that I wouldn’t be seeing her for the next few days.
Her daddy drove me to the airport, and I headed in to check in. I made it upstairs to wait for them to call for us to board my flight, stopping at a news shop to buy a bottle of water. Just about then, I realized it was really hot in the airport, like the air conditioning wasn’t working. When I paid for my water, the woman at the register confirmed that it was malfunctioning.
Oh goody! I have an hour to wait in this heat.
As my clothes began to stick to me with my own sweat, and my jeans began to feel oh, so constricting, I watched the minutes tick by. They called for our flight to board, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled, now completely drenched in sweat, of the prospect of being able to sit on an nice cool plane for the next few hours. Each passenger had his or her ticket scanned and then proceeded in an orderly line into the gateway tunnel, connecting the terminal to the plane.
My seat was near the very back of the plane, and so a long line stretched out in front of me. Did I mention that it was 110 degrees outside at the time? No? Well, how about that the gateway tunnel wasn’t air conditioned, and that we had the privilege of standing in said confined convection oven for ten minutes before boarding the plane? We did. And somewhere in the course of that, a little chant began in my head that went something like I’m melting. I’m melting. I’m mellllllting!
Once on the plane and settled into my seat, the fight crew closed the plane door and there we sat for the next hour with only hot air blowing on us instead of air conditioning.
Good lord! Are they trying to turn us into worthless puddles of sweat?
Why did we sit there sweltering? We were later informed that the “air truck” (whatever the heck that is) was low on fuel, and they had to wait for it to gas up before they could “finish.”
An hour later and feeling like I’d been living in my clothes for the past week, we pulled back from the gate and took off. As soon as we did, blessed air conditioning flowed freely, and a cheer resonated through the cabin. Even with behind schedule, the pilot did an incredible job of getting us to our layover destination of Atlanta on time.
Yeah!
Exiting the plane and entering the Atlanta airport, I noticed that it was unusually hot in the building.
Great! Just great! This AC isn’t working right either.
Having to go to the restroom, I decided to avoid the crowds and use the one at my next gate. I made my way to the terminal via a tram to catch my connecting flight. Arriving at my gate, I noticed that both the women’s restrooms were closed for cleaning.
Are you kidding me?
Looking around, I noticed that there wasn’t another ladies’ room anywhere near my gate. I asked one of the cleaners how long the john would be closed, and she assured me it would only be another minute or so. Just then, I realized that I’d forgotten to buy some toothpaste at the last airport and tried to decide if I had time to get some here and use the facilities. Of course, there was my pressing need to go pee, and I didn’t relish the idea of having to walk all the way back to the store, towards the other end of the terminal, trying to cross my legs as I walked, to keep from peeing.
Oh, so many decisions….
Just then, the ladies room was reopened, and that made up my mind: pee now, worry about toothpaste later.
Besides, almost all hotels now offer samples of toothpaste to guests.
Pleased that I’d found a way to solve both my problems, I used the restroom. When I exited, they were boarding my flight, and I headed to the gate. As soon as I handed my ticket to the agent, I rounded a corner and, along with the other passengers ahead of me, was faced with a couple flights of switchback stairs, leading down onto the runway.
Our plane, a tiny 33-passenger “puddle jumper,” had to be boarded by a rollaway staircase leading up to it. So we marched through the 90-degree plus heat, with a humidity factor thick enough to make you want to scream, to our awaiting plane.
We boarded. The plane’s door was shut, and then we sat. And waited. And sat. And waited some more. After about fifteen minutes, the pilot came on and told us that we had another 10-15 minutes to wait before we could join the line of other planes in the cue to take off. At that time, the flight attendant came around and distributed cups of iced water to the passengers, since there was no air conditioning running on the plane while we were parked. By this time, bathing in my own sweat again for the second time in one day, I chugged my iced water and tried not to melt. Twenty minutes passed, and then the pilot came on, informing us that there was an hour and a half wait in the cue to take off. I honestly wondered if there would be a mutiny at that point. But just as tempers flared, the pilot explained that he had asked for and been granted, permission to take off from another runway.
Thank goodness! Mutiny averted.
From Atlanta to South Carolina was only a 58-minute fight. But I knew my grandfather had arranged for a driver to pick me up and hoped they wouldn’t be sitting there that whole time.
The fight went well, though we hit turbulence and weren’t allowed out of our seats—a bit of a problem since I’d been drinking a lot of water to stay hydrated and needed to use the john.
Oh well, I can wait until we get to South Carolina and duck in a bathroom before I have to meet up with the driver.
Touching down, I realized the airport was the tiniest I’d ever seen. Quaint, but tiny. As soon as I entered it, I saw my driver holding up a sign with my name on it. Fate was cruel, and as I neared him, I saw that the ladies’ room was right beside him. But I felt bad that he’d been waiting, and thus decided to wait until I got to the hotel.
On the drive there, I looked at my watch and noticed that it was 9:45 PM.
Hmmm.... I’m hungry.
I did a quick inventory of my day and recalled that I hadn’t eaten anything sine a sandwich at 11:00 AM and it was now near 10:00 PM.
Well, I do have raw almonds and wheat thins in my suitcase. If all else fails, and I can’t get food, that will suffice.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the hotel, got checked in and inquired, per my drivers’ suggestion, at the front desk to see about getting food. I was told that if I was quick, I could phone in an order for pizza to be delivered. Stomach growling, my fingers flew as they punched in the phone number to the pizza place.
I then went up to my room and called my daughter, the one who just had the baby. We talked while I unpacked. Then my room phone rang, informing me that my pizza had arrived. Still talking to my daughter on my cell phone, I headed back out of the building, around pitch black twists and turns along a walkway, to the front office where I took possession of my pizza.
Back up in my room, I flopped on the sofa near the floor AC unit, thrilled to finally have my long day winding down, and began eating while still catching up with my daughter. About five minutes passed, and I caught movement by the edge of the AC unit out of the corner of my eye.
Holy crap! Was that just a mouse?!
Recoiling my feet up onto the sofa, I leaned forward to get a better look. And as I did so, what was on the wall came into full focus. I emitted little gagging sounds. My daughter, concerned, asked if everything was okay. Not answering right away, I sprang up on the sofa, dancing and prancing around on it like some scaredy-cat female.
There on the wall, less than three feet away from and heading towards me, was the largest cockroach I’ve ever seen! It was three inches in length and disgusting as all hell. I told my daughter what was wrong, and she told me to kill it. So I picked up my sandal and hit it—hard and direct. Only the bastard, now two legs short of what it had a second earlier, didn’t have the grace to be squashed.
Oh, no! That big bertha of a bug jumped off the wall towards me, me hopping and prancing, gagging and trying not to scream whole my daughter made equally strange sounds on her end of the phone when I told her it hadn’t died. She told me to hit it again. I readied myself to do, and I’ll be damned if the beast of a bug didn’t high tail it into the safety of the AC unit.
Well, that does it! I’m not eating any more pizza.
Just about then, I realized that I’d forgotten to get toothpaste.
Damn it!
My daughter had to go, and I called the front desk, hoping that housecleaning had some toothpaste. I swear to god that the man on the line had a smile to his voice when he happily informed me that they didn’t provide any, nor did they sell it. But…he offered, “There’s a convenience store a mile down the road in either direction that does.”
Oh joy! It’ll be so much fun to walk that tomorrow in the oppressive humidity with teeth that haven’t been properly brushed. Oh, and did I mention that I’m meeting up with family members whom I haven’t seen in quite a while for breakfast at 8:00 AM?
Yeehaw! Let the good times roll!
By that time, I was too tired and frustrated to do anything more about the cockroach and so began writing this blog.
What have I learned from this experience? When someone questions the sanity of my flying/traveling on Friday the thirteenth, from now on, I will abort any plans I have to do so!
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