Miles and miles and miles
Update. Read all about it. I finished work in the glamorous little hideaway of Monroe, LA with enough time to attempt a standby flight to Texas. I got a little frustrated at the lack of fueling stations anywhere in the remote vicinity of the airport, but managed to find what had to be "the one". Every pump row was not only full of filler-uppers, but sported eager future customers in neat little lines waiting for their turn at the nozzle. The restaurant next door to "the one" refueling facility looked local friendly and I'm always down for that, so I stopped for a bite. Alligator and crawfish gumbo was at the top of my list, but I changed my mind at the last second on a texture decision. It really sounded delicious, but I wasn't in the mood for the texture. Everyone has their quirks. Welcome to one of mine. The way something feels in your mouth is almost as important as how well it tastes. Perhaps on the rare occasion, even more important. There were tables built in wooden cradles with wheels set in tracks. You could put your feet through the bottom into the cradle like driving a Flintstone's car and push to rock yourself (and the table full of your dining companions if applicable) back and forth as you eat. I wasn't seated at one, but thought it might be fun for a future visit. I documented the construction with my cell phone's craptastic camera so my step-dad can see how it all works. I can envision him building something like that for "the ranch". Back at the airport, I hooked up a standby seat for the next flight out, but my seat confirmation couldn't take place until security cleared passengers to enter the gate. I went upstairs looking for the hot spot in the cocktail lounge. It was out of service, but using my cell carrier for dialup, I caught up on work email, did a little surfing, read some work documents that I had flagged to look at but never got around to it. I eavesdropped on the conversation between the bartender and the patrons about Katrina evacuees and depressed economy, etc. Then the other male imbiber left to take a call leaving me the only man left in the place. I must have been a fly on the wall because as soon as the other guy stepped out, the conversation took a drastic turn. They all started complaining about a raid that happened yesterday in the city's only chain of adult novelty shops. I forget the name, but it was on par with Zone d'Erotica in H-Town. The elevated banter about having to "having to buy our dildos and vibrators over the Internet" was quite amusing. One lady even went over her now-defunct shopping list that was foiled by the closures. The gentleman walked back in and not another word was said about any of it. It was back to welfare and real estate. Content that I'd observed the most entertaining part of the conversation, I gathered my things and headed for the counter. (pee ess. I was the only traveller in the lounge. The rest were locals.) Fortunately a seat was available and I found my passage to Texas aboard a rickety turboprop that spelled like a stadium men's room. My seat was broken.
The difficult part of landing in a major airport with a connection is that the geographic dispersion of your arrival gate and departing connection gate is control by Murphy. I landed in terminal A with a connection in terminal B. The only way between them is bus and the flight I was trying to get on was boarding in a few moments. I managed to get to the correct terminal and find someone to get me on a standby list. The desired flight was not only completely full, but I was to be number 10 on the list of standby travellers. TEN. The odds were strongly against me setting foot on that plane. Simmered down, that means 2 more hours of airport time in an airport I was already intimately familiar with from the weather fiasco the day before. It felt bad to feel good about another flight missing their connection and thus opening enough seats to squeeze me aboard. I am looking out the window at little fluffy clouds and wishing for my weekend to start. I want to close my eyes and exhale. I want to find a way to get the knots out of my neck and shoulders. I want to wake rested without an alarm to jolt me. I feel frazzled.
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