Getting There. It sounds so easy, doesn't it?
When Jorge pushed me in my baby stroller up to the place in the airport where you check in (the computer screen) it said, "What do you think you're doing? You know don't belong here. I [the airport] will eat you when your husband leaves."
I replied, "Wah."
So we talked to a real person (a minion, remember) behind the desk who told us, "You're going to have pay $100 more because you changed your flight around." She said this with a look that added a Redd Foxx "Dummy!" at the end just for kicks.
I looked at Jorge. "I didn't do anything; I promise!" Because I know he thought I tried to get into the reservation and cancel it or something.
He said, "I didn't change anything, either."
The lady wasn't buying it from either of us. So she clicked and clicked and then said, "Oh, it's our bad. We changed the flight numbers. Huh! Fancy that! You don't have to pay another $100 after all."
It was then that I noticed the Granny Smith sized apple in my throat that prevented me from swallowing for the next 2 hours. Can you get brain damage from not swallowing?
I waved goodbye, passed inspection, got on the plane and looked for row 17, which was the very back seat in the plane.
For those of you who watch LOST, remember what happened when that plane crashed? Goodbye seat 17.
I tried breathing in and out slowly for four counts each: 1, 2.3.4. - 2, 2.3.4 - 3, 2.3.4, but I got to 100 and was still panicking and scaring the guy next to me who was starting to reach for his oxygen mask because I was using his air up, too, so I just reverted to chipmunk sized breaths.
When I arrived at Charlotte, I immediately began looking for my bag, which never came down the chute, although everyone else's from my flight did. While I was looking for my bag, I was also on the lookout for the limo guy that Jorge hired to carry me to the hotel. Both the luggage and the driver were MIA.
Finally, I found this scared looking guy holding a placard that said, "Linda T." I wondered if he was my guy, but he was from a different limo company, so I hesitated to ask. I called Jorge, who called Lotus Limousines, who said they had subcontracted that company to pick me up. So I confirmed with this kid that I was his charge, and he helped me looked for the suitcase.
Me and the guy, just lookin', lookin', lookin' for my suitcase. And we couldn't talk because he didn't speak English very well, except for "yes."
Finally, I saw that an airline minion had snatched my bag from carousel thing and hidden it from me. I think her eyes glowed red, but I'm not sure.
So by the time I got to the hotel, I felt, and probably looked, like this:
I went into my room and swallowed for the first time in two hours. It was then that I realized I do enjoy breathing and swallowing.
Unpacked, I ventured downstairs to look for food. I waited 45 minutes for an appetizer of spinach and artichoke dip, which I took to my room and ate while watching the biography of Andy Gibb. Good times. (Did you know he dated that girl from "Gimme a Break?") I couldn't believe I was finally there.
It was then that Amy at Signs, Miracles and Wonders and Carol at Sheep to the Right phoned my room to see if I made it OK. Apparently, my rantings had even gotten to Amy's husband, who nudged her to call me and make sure I was there in one piece. Glad to know my nuttiness is crossing gender lines. In fact, that's always been a blogging goal of mine: "Make my own insanity known to everyone, without respect to gender, race, religion or creed. Check!"
I went to sleep. I woke up. My first thought? "I have to go to the airport again in 72 hours."
Part 2 plus pics tomorrow.