Have Valium, Will Travel

stream of consciousness writing:

Okay, so here it is – July is my regular time to travel and play. Normally I would have just gotten out of work for the summer, T is with his dad and why not? I lived my wanderlust for 15 years. Now, I visit with it in the summertime. For the past two years, Honey has joined me on the annual OCF pilgrimage. As an aside, that, my friends, is love. He would have been considerably more comfortable at home than camping at Zumwalt. (this is one of the ways he shields me from the realities of Blob – he does way more than he should…)

When  we were coming back to TX from the mighty, mighty Pacific North-West, we were supposed to fly out at the ungodly hour of 5:50am. (Sometimes there’s a reason something’s on sale, apparently). So Honey insisted we get up at 3:30 – just to make sure we are there with at least an hour and 15 to spare (if we are not at least that early, we are technically late according to Honey’s body clock).

Well, I screwed up.

Surprised?

I had us dropped of at United rather than USAir. I tried to check us in at the airline computer and failed miserably. Couldn’t get the machine to do a thing I wanted it to and ended up having to wait in the line from hell to get to a ticket agent. Finally got there, and he couldn’t find our flight information either.

As you can imagine, I’m sure, my anxiety level was kinda getting up there. I was not necessarily at my most calm right then…

Then the heaven’s opened, God smiled and we were found within the inter-world of airlines scheduled with a different airline.  When we arrived at USAir, the agent standing at the end of the queue asked if we were going to Houston. I thought she was very clever and said, “Why yes we are, thank you” and stepped into the line she indicated after she confirmed that we had plenty of time.

Alright, so here we are, in line at the ticket area. Long line. Our lovely cushion of time that Honey built into our airport experience is running out. He is getting agitated – which really doesn’t help me in this situation at all.

Finally, we get to the head of the line and there is an agent who has just come in and is opening his register (do people do that anymore?) and logging on right in time for us to end up at his spot. (yay) I handed him my ID and debit card and was informed that when I was asked about Houston being our destination earlier, it was for a direct flight that was running late – not the three puddle jumpers that’d take 13 hours to get us home on which I have us scheduled. Oh – and they couldn’t find the reservations for the last leg of our trip from Austin to Houston on their system – and while that’s only a three hour drive, we couldn’t drive it cuz the car was at the Houston airport!

Now it is 5:37 and we have not even gotten remotely close to security – all was not well in my world. I was having a major travel crisis moment. I got kinda verklempt and was all out of sorts and was feeling like I had been drug through mud and not wrung out all that well, and, and, and, and…. (can you see where this is heading?)

So, the very nice ticket guy kindly leaned over and did the “there, there” thing, patted my hand and he told me that everything would be ok, and they would get us home, i just needed to relax and calm down…. I’m telling you, when he suggested I calm down, I readily agreed, saying, “You are so right. Oh wait, I have valium in my purse – just hold on for a second, I’ll get it. This is gonna be okay….”

We were booked on that direct flight really very quickly after that. And I didn’t even need to pull out the cancer card…. Go figure…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s