The road home

Airports, my friends, are great places. They are such a microcosm of human, well, weirdness. And before you get all offended, we all have our quirks and they all seem to come out to play when hanging out in random terminals with complete strangers. So let me tell you the story of yesterday.

We left the Omni Willliam Penn, a beautiful, historic, downtown Pittsburgh hotel, at 7:45 a.m. yesterday. There was a whole debacle getting out of the insane parking garage in which I did NOT make a woman’s day and she let me know it, but we won’t get into that.

Finally, we got on the road and headed toward the airport. And got honked at for no apparent reason other than the guy wanted to get in my lane and basically wanted me to disappear magically so he could. We got to the airport, found a gas station, turned the car in, and started trying to figure out where to go for ticketing. Let’s just say that the Pittsburgh Airport and Delta need to work on their set-up there. And provide separate self check-in kiosks and appointed helpers for elderly passengers. I’m just saying.

The first flight was uneventful and good, since it wasn’t full and I had a whole row to myself. Except that it was freezing cold and I curled up in so small a ball in  my seat trying to get warm that the flight attendant brought me a blanket. I was very thankful.

Then came Atlanta. We decided to eat near Jana’s gate, since she was on an early flight back to Nashville, then head to our concourse. So we decide on Atlanta Bread Company. Where two girls in Harvard sweatshirts tried to take my and Jana’s meal. I thought I was going to have to throw down. And I’m tired of people rolling their eyes at me and acting like I’m stupid and mean—when I knew for a fact that bag of food was ours. They kept questioning me about it and I was like, “Girls, I know this is mine. Back off.” Hungry Ivy Leaguers apparently get all mean and cranky and roll their eyes. But I was right, girls. So who’s laughing now?

After eating, it was time for Jana to go, so we left her at her gate and went to ours. Where she showed up not long after, since her flight was inexplicably delayed. A little later, a woman with crazy Tina Turner hair (except it was long in the back and had shells braided in) came up carrying a dog in a carrier. The dog was so upset and thirsty. Finally, someone gave her water to give the dog and the woman started talking to him. For the whole 30 minutes we were sitting there, she chatted away to the dog, having an actual conversation with him. Then, as it got time to get on the plane, she sang to her dog.  A lullaby. Really? I mean, really? (She also apparently encouraged the dog to pee in its carrier, according to Emily, but I didn’t hear that.)

Of course, the plane was late, they were late boarding us, and once we got on the plane (luck of the draw, I was in the very back row, again!) we had to sit while they fixed the toilets, which wouldn’t flush. We sat there for awhile. A long while. I think I went to sleep while we sat there. And this flight was CROWDED (remember that earlier canceled flight to Nashville?)

Finally, we took off and got to Nashville. As Jana pointed out, we probably could have driven home from Pittsburgh in the amount of time it took us to get home if we had left the hotel at 7:45 a.m. and driven straight through. So that, my friends, is why I’m beginning to hate airports. Or at least the one in Atlanta.

I will probably take a travel day this Friday and travel to MO to meet my nephew, who should be born this week. I’m hoping for November 6, which would have been my Grandma Polly’s 91 birthday, I believe.