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June 11, 2008
It's the Little Things
I am sitting in the Chicago O’hare airport, where I’ve been patiently waiting for a disaster of an afternoon to resolve itself. I arrived back from South Africa last night—after 36 hours of transit in which my first 12-hour flight didn’t have individual television screens (so we were all forced to watch Jumper) and during my layover in Qatar my Blackberry managed to “walk away”. I’m convinced that it went missing in the 15 feet between the final security screening and boarding the shuttle to the airplane, but despite my very precise instructions to the Qatar Airways staff, the predicted likelihood of ever seeing it again is laughable.
Since I had an extremely short turnaround, arriving home from Cape Town at 8 p.m. last night and leaving for a conference in Wisconsin at 10 a.m. this morning, I haven’t had a chance to replace the phone—or to cancel the service. So if you want to call it now, chances are it will be picked up by a recent visitor to the Doha airport…but rest assured that the bill will be coming straight to me.
Through my own negligence (I went to the wrong gate, and didn’t notice my mistake until it was too late), I missed my connecting flight to Wisconsin. Fortunately, I was able to get booked on the next flight out—which was a mere 5 hours later. Theoretically. It turns out that weather delays and even local tornadoes have created a maelstrom of cancellations. So it’s now 7+ hours in and I’m still sitting here. Fortunately, I had plenty of work to do and the internet connection at the airport is decent. On the down side, not having a phone (and being unable to work the pay phones, horrid creatures) meant that there was a slight kerfluffle at the Wisconsin airport when my chauffeur (the event center is an hour away) couldn’t find me on the original flight. Extremely non-funny hilarity ensued and we finally got it all worked out, although I’m sad to report that said chauffeur is enduring the same waiting game at his end, albeit without a computer to keep him company.
But I’ve digressed. My main point is that despite having a horrific couple of days (minus the VERY nice 12 hours spent at Mr. MMB’s house cuddling Maya and marveling at the heat index at 10 p.m.), right now the thing that is really irritating me is that I don’t have the camera attached to my Blackberry. Because there is a woman—60 if she is a day—sitting across from me wearing obscenely skimpy shorts, a black blazer, gold bejeweled sandals, Jackie O sunglasses, and a jaunty sailor cap. Her nautical theme is completed with a mouth so foul I would wager she’s spent some time on the high seas. Apparently, she (and her male compatriot, a laid-back “grandpa type”) have not had any luck in getting on a particular flight. The term “fucking bitch” has been uttered SEVERAL times, and she has repeatedly stormed off complaining that “there are always seats available in first class”. And if ever there was a woman that screamed “first class”, she is definitely it.
So I’m sorry to report, dear readers, that there will be no picture of this woman to accompany my posting. And let me tell you, you are really missing out since she has now angled her legs up so that the back of her thighs (all the way up to her not inconsiderate buttock) are on display for everyone to see. I sincerely hope she’s on my flight to Wisconsin.
Comments
Ooh, first no personal television, then you get pickpocked, then a heinous layover? Insult to injury. I hope Ms. WAS gets back up to BB speed soon. Feel better!
Posted by: Elizabeth at June 11, 2008 05:01 PM
Airport madness: my life . . . every . . . single . . .day :)
Posted by: Captain Crunch at June 12, 2008 04:29 AM
