Traveling the Friendly Skies (Not!)

Every year I tell myself not to get on a plane(s) during the Thanksgiving holiday. Every year, I somehow do not listen my own excellent advice. This year, I swore I would ignore the pitiful whining of my last remaining parental unit to come to Florida for the holiday. And I quote, "Everyone is dead but you and me..." (This is one of the only legal use of ellipses). Even though this is true, I gave the usual multiple reasons (excuses) for not coming to no avail. "But I'll buy you a ticket!" I knew I was sunk at that point.

Last Monday, I started the trek from Fitchburg to Fort Lauderdale. First, I missed the last train that would get me to the airport on time. Ok, what to do? I know! Hook a ride on the homeless medical van into Boston. Gee, that was so fun. Rattling into North Station, I knew I would have to drop a twenty on a cab to get through security on time.

I finally get to check-in. And find out that it is another $15 to check one bag. Why didn't I know that? Did you know that mousse is a securityrisk? And because I didn't get my boarding pass online, I am stuck in a middle seat. Even better. But the best is yet to come.

I feel like a sardine squished in a can all the way to Atlanta. The kindly flight attendants offer me diet coke and a tiny bag of pretzels filled with salt. Friends, this is NOT commercial airline hospitality. This large dose of sodium chloride is a means of minimizing any trips to the bathroom in flight. I believe it was a plan devised by Homeland Security after 911 in order to prevent the possiblity of bombs in the bathroom at 41,000 feet. My plan was to accomplish work on my computer in flight. After all, the sign says "Free WiFi". Ha! Free WiFi on this airline means a $9 connection fee. Never mind the fact that my laptop is too big to fit on the tray table and the person in front of me has lowered the back of his seat almost completely into my lap.

We land without crashing in Atlanta. It takes over a half hour to deplane. I then realize that my connecting flight is in an entirely different terminal. There I go, knapsack on back filled with books and laptop, sprinting (this is not a pretty sight) across the airport to D Terminal. I barely make my connection wheezing into another sardine can seat. Note to self: Never use the Atlanta airport for a connecting flight! To anywhere! Repeat: Never!

I finally arrive in Fort Lauderdale. It is 80 degrees with 90% humidity. Sigh...wheeze...wheeze...(Another legal use of ellipses). The Rent's friend picks me up at the airport and we call him to let him know our ETA.

And he says, and I quote...(The last legal use of ellipses, I promise)

"You're much too early. Find something to do for an hour."

I solemnly promise myself that next year, I will NOT succumb to the parental whine!