After a long week on the road for your job the first thing you want to do when it’s the last day of the trip is get outta dodge. Unfortunately, I still had a rather full day of being a prostitute for my pimp, otherwise known as the company I work for and my bossman.
The week had been going great so far. Well, in this case great means wearing teenage boy pants, eating a salad with ice cube tongs at a time when most people were sound asleep and of course the biggest thing of all – no coffee in my hotel room! I still call bullshit.
Part 1 and Part 2 go into more detail about these adventures.
OK, now that the we’ve done the obligatory, “Previously on CV’s travel adventures” lead in, let’s catch up with our hero (me) on the final leg of this long and winding road trip.
- I awoke in one of the two double beds in my room. The one on the left, as I had slept in the one on the right the previous night…just…because…I…could.
- With a little while before the first meetings of the day, it made sense to put on the workout clothes and lace up the running shoes.
Dash out the door. Down the hall and pause for the elevator. Pause. Pause. Is this freaking thing going to stop at every floor?
Finally at the first floor, I was off.
Down the hall toward the lobby and the front door.
Wait you didn’t think I was actually going for a run did you?
Workout done.Coffee obtained. And, now time to pack up.
Grab all clothes not wearing today and shove them in.
- Halfway through meeting number one, my coworker travel partner, you may remember him as the sucker bag checker, announces, “welp I’ve gotta head to the airport for an early flight, but I’m going to leave you in good hands with CV.”
Looks like I’m presenting during lunch again.
- Two hours later, my trusty iPhone makes that familiar noise
- Yet, I will use this advice to my advantage.
“Folks, it would seem that the security lines are huge. If I don’t get home tonight Mrs. CV will not be happy. An unhappy Mrs and well…’nuff said folks.”
- And, I was off!
And, NOW I’m off.
- Taxi dude (use the Kwik-E-Mart guy from the Simpsons voice): Hello boss, what airline?
Taxi dude: Oh that is unfortunate. I hope you get some food first.
Me: Yeah, thanks for the advice <jackass>.
- Taxi dude (still use the voice please): That’ll be $44 boss. Plus tip of course.
Me: (rolls eyes) OK, I’m going to charge it.
Taxi dude: Ummm you don’t have cash?
Me: Not enough.
Taxi dude: (huge sigh) OK boss. Swipe card.
- At the counter…
“Will you be checking bags?”
Me: No. Checking bags is for…No, I’m carrying on.
“That’ll be Gate 47 in Terminal C.”
- OK, I’m here 2.5 hours ahead. This has got to be enough time even with hellacious security lines that Sucker Bag Checker warned.
Two escalators later and I rush up to the airports version of Space Mountain ride at Disneyland expecting the worst…
What the? There’s no one here! Is there a problem? I musta gone to the wrong terminal. Nope C. Hmmm, well Sucker Bag Checker was wrong. At least I’ll have plenty of time for food.
- Shoes off (I’m over 12). Jacket off (I’m under 75). Laptop out.
“Sir, make sure you don’t have anything in your pockets!”
Me: Like a boarding pass?
“Yep that’ll likely set it off!”
<yeah you’re about to see me set something off – note, I’m only thinking that or I’ll end up the bitch of one Lt. Cmdr. TSA.
- One escalator, one tram, another escalator and a long walk later and I’m at the heart of Terminal C.
Alright food and drink are in order as I have a lot of time to kill.
Thankfully, I get to eat in the bar this time. After all, I already lost my cherry once.
But, first, I’ve gotta get out of Kid 1′s pants!
- Ducking into the men’s room <drat the handicap stall is occupied>…into a normal stall.
Do NOT touch anything!
- My bathroom stall gymnastics are complete.
And, somehow I managed to not have a single article of clothing touch anything!
Pro Tip: if any article on your person touches anything in the bathroom at an airport throw it out immediately, whether it’s Louis Vuitton or a T from the Walmart. It can’t be saved.
- Safely at the sports bar in Terminal C and thankfully there’s one open table.
Unfortunately, there’s no waiter/waitress so, despite what Lt Cmdr TSA says, I’m leaving my bag unattended in a quest for a Jack and Coke.
- Observing a line 3 deep, I ask, “Is this the line?”
Drunkard 20 something girl in yoga pants that would be small on my daughter says, “umm like eeeyeaaah.”
As we wait in line Drunkard 20 something girl in yoga pants proceeds to tell dude sitting at bar ogling her, “It’s funny because my flight was delayed 3 times and I’ve been in this bar for 6 hours. And, I DON’T even drink!”
Bartender: what’ll it be this time?
Drunkard 20 something girl in yoga pants: I’ll have a vodka cranberry and make it a double this time. The line is craaaaazy long!
- Having downed my club sandwich and a double Jack and Coke x 2 on the advice of the drunkard 20 something girl in yoga pants advice it was time to head to the gate and board the plane.
- After drinking that much, whether water or alcohol, make sure to have an aisle seat, because you’re gonna need to use the facility. And, again….don’t touch anything.
- Next thing I remember is landing and having to change planes in some mid-West flyover city. Freaking Southwest.
And, I’m off again. And, out again…sound asleep.
- Safely on the ground back home. No bags to claim so it’s straight to the Long Term Parking buses.
Almost there now. Looking forward to seeing the family.
“The next stop will serve section’s M, N and S.”
M, N and S? Think they skipped a few. Ok whatever.
I could’ve sworn I was in Section N.