How The West Coast Storm Screwed The Country – Part Two
My plane is delayed for an hour and a half. That’s not bad. I figure since I now have PLENTY of time, I will do something civilized like sit down at the wine bar. I can plug my laptop in, have some Italian white wine and chill out. I can also people watch. My, there are a lot of characters. There is the hippie walking by who must be very secure in his sexuality. Why else would he wear a silky jacket with roses and panda heads on it? There is the fabulous gay couple sitting next to me, wearing matching winter scarves and deciding between the smoked salmon rolls or the diligently assorted cheeses. I look up and see the First Class lounge of American Airlines hovering over the concourse on the second floor. Silver-haired rich men read the Wall Street Journal, sip their cocktails and nibble on free bickies. How am I suppose to get a husband down here in steerage when all the good ones are so far above me. Literally. I’ll bet Alan Rickman is up there, sipping cocktails right now. I’m sure of it!
I go back to my latest writing project. I feel like a juggler in a demented writing circus. I now have six balls in the air. Final edits on “The Squirrel Stole My Thong And Other Reasons I’m Still Single”, still need to write another 40 pages or so on “Deirdre Does Disney” so I can start the first round of edits on that and NOW I am starting a whole series of Disney travel books, broken out into the various parks starting with Animal Kingdom, Epcot, Disney Studios and Magic Kingdom that will go directly to E for a low, low price! (Ginsu knives not included). Downtown Disney, Resorts, Complete Dining, Disneyland and DCA will follow. I had planned on spending all my time until January 3rd writing – writing like the wind. My wind is faltering. But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.
I am setting up my first four Disney guide books in Scrivener and playing the waiting game. A cute gal sits down opposite me at another table. I swear she is giving me the eye. I could do worse. Who am I kidding, I HAVE done worse! However I no longer trust my judgement. I spend an hour and a half here, then mosey over — fine — slog over to the counter next door to check on my plane. They are still showing a departure of 8:15pm. It is 7pm now. I ask the blond, gay boy named Villie (I swear to God) where the plane is coming from and if they are in the air. He checks, cheerily, all the while chewing and popping gum like his perky life depended on it. It seems our plane isn’t even in the air. Ummmm…. what? It’s in Ft. Lauderdale. Okay. It takes 2 1/2 hours to fly from there to DC. The math isn’t working out. You don’t have to be a hooker to figure that doesn’t add up. Why a hooker? Because they are hella smart with math, that’s why!
My plane has now been pushed back again. It is scheduled to land at 10pm which would put us in the air at 10:30 or 10:45pm. Fine, I settle in to read a new book on Kindle. Then the riot breaks out. It seems there is another flight at my gate going to Boston. They were suppose to leave at 2pm and are now told the flight is cancelled. Their plane is here. At the gate. But the pilots have timed out and they were unable to find any other pilots for Jet Blue in the Washington area who could fly that night. A few people have been waiting to get out for days. My solution – let them take your bags and send them ahead, rent a car and DRIVE! Boston is not that far. Maybe six hours tops. It’s like driving from San Francisco to Los Angeles. The snow has stopped. Get your ass in a car and drive. I can’t do that. It would take me 3-4 days to drive, by myself, across the country.
The screaming is reaching a fever pitch. I open my gatorade, pull out a $2 wee bag of Popchips and watch the show. Hey, you have to get your entertainment somewhere! All these people are now standing in line at the desks to rebook, stomping around or in the case of three old Yentas, yammering the Supervisors ear off. You really don’t want to be on the receiving end of three pissed off old Jewish ladies. I thought one of them would hit the guy with her cane.
Now my gate is changed. Fortunately it’s just next door so I am in no hurry to move. There is one guy playing guitar softly and singing which is soothing and nice. There is also the bearded, Birkenstock wearing, Know-It-All UC Berkeley hippie working on his 12th year at that school (yes, it’s a 4 year school) on an engineering degree with a minor in philosophy. I have an overwhelming urge to punch him in the junk but go back to my book instead. 45 minutes later, the flight to Ft. Lauderdale next to me is cancelled due to the crew timing out. This isn’t looking good.
Well it’s 9pm and I decide to get my butt over to my gate and check on the plane. I ask the nice lady if our plane has even left Ft. Lauderdale. Remember, it was suppose to land at 10pm? Ummm, nope. It’s still on the ground in Florida. I ask if the crew is going to time out because if that is the case, tell us now while it’s still a decent hour. She assures me they are getting a fresh crew, they won’t time out and we will now be leaving at midnight. Ummm, that just gives you half an hour to get that bird in the air. She assures me it’s fine.
Tomorrow – the wrap up (thus far)