I think I’d rather drive across country than have to fly.
I had a business trip this week. It was in Vancouver. Yeah, out of the country – made it that much worse
Luggage: Interestingly, on the way to Canada, Delta allowed us to check one bag on the plane at no additional charge. American Airlines, however, charged me $26 to bring my stuff home! Isn’t luggage part of a trip? Shouldn’t it be included in the price? Does a hotel charge you extra to bring your suitcase in the room? No. They assume that if you’re coming in there, you’re not only going to shower and sleep, but you're probably also going to change your clothes! When I travel, I’m gonna bring some stuff. Expect it. Build it in to the cost of the ticket! And by the way, you charged me $26 bucks for it, how about you pick it up and toss it on the conveyor belt!!
Security: In an effort to keep things simple, I wore a pair of loafers - working to avoid laces as I partially undressed in front of my colleagues in the security line. They worked out fine, but I was a bit uncomfortable walking on their nasty floor with my bare feet. As always my iPad and laptop had to be put in a bin by themselves. What could I hide in there? Flat Stanley? In Vancouver, the position of the body x-ray machine was such that I got a full view of my coworker’s anatomy; I think he's put on a little weight. I didn't realize he had an outie belly button.
Food: I was given a snack today on the plane. I opened the bag, it was the size of a Polly Pockets’ blanket. I decided I’d count – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16 – yes, there were 16 nuts, or parts of nuts in the bag. We drop a higher percentage of food on the floor during a meal at our house than they give you on the plane.
Bathroom: After my “meal,” I needed to pee. I made my way to the back of the plane. It’s hard to go at 300 mph. When I finally did, the pilot decided to do a wheely. The front of the plane popped up; the back of the plane took a dip. I felt sorry for the person in line behind me. Bless her heart.
Passengers: I lucked out on the “to” flights, sitting with my friends. My ride home wasn’t so lucky. I was relieved when I first saw the smiling, slender man assigned to be my neighbor on the last leg of our flight. He was older, quiet and we had extra leg room with only the added responsibility of opening the emergency exit on the scant chance the plane went down. What I didn’t know is that he had SARS. I don’t easily sleep on a plane so I was surprised when I cozied up to the window, and my eyes began to get heavy. About ten minutes into my nap, seat 20 B coughed so loud I thought the landing gear had dropped from the belly of the plane. I jumped from my seat in utter panic. “Did I startle you?” he asked? “Did your lung actually come out?” I questioned. Rather than sleep, I decided to write this blog post… and he's still a hackin'.
Parking: Last time I traveled with this particular coworker, we couldn’t find the car when we returned to Raleigh. We strolled around the parking deck for 55 minutes arguing about where it might have gone. I drove alone this year. I was very careful to memorize my location in the humongous parking deck. It’s on row I, like my eyeball, level 4, like the number of dogs I had growing up. Or was it row E for eyeball and level 2 for my cats. Oh crap.