Wednesday, September 26, 2007

New to New

Flying anywhere is never a simple task for me.

This time was no different. Oh, I arrived on time, my shrimp po'boy, purchased by Aunt A, and put into my willing hands, placed into my computer bag. I checked my luggage, for the first time ever, placing my jewelry and all of my important papers into the hands of airline employees. Not such a good idea.

The flight was going to be late getting into Atlanta, did I want to take an earlier flight, and go directly into LaGuardia?

No. I had no way of getting home.

I stayed with my current plan, I had a ride, I knew what was going on, and I could work with a 35 minute window. I'd grown up seeing OJ Simpson fly through airports. Of course, I no longer buy black leather gloves or nor would I purchase a white SUV, but, I could move through an airport with the speed of light.

This is, of course, if one's plane isn't left on the tarmac for 20 of those 35 minutes.

And, if one isn't in Terminal E, and has to go to Terminal B.

And, if the Delta rep doesn't tell one that the gate is still B6, and that sure, they know she is coming, and all is well.

And the gate is now B23..... at the OTHER end of the terminal.

And, well, I gave it up.

Re-booked on a flight leaving 48 minutes later, coffee and starting to smell a bit, even wrapped up in two layers of newspaper po'boy, in hand, I rode the train to my new gate on D Terminal.

The Atlanta airport and I became close.

I handed over the shrimp po'boy to be once again put on ice, and settled into my once again by myself seats and off we went into the wild blue yonder.

Realise, when I left New Orleans to go to New York, my luggage was going to North Carolina and Tennessee. I found this out upon arrival.

My car was there, I was there, my luggage was on it's own trip.

It was kindly delivered by Delta at 4AM.

4. A. M.

No gifts for me from said luggage, just drunken ID tags and zipped lips as to why it had taken it's own trips.

My new flat is....small. I'm getting used to it....slowly. My 15 boxes are to arrive today, which will help. In them I have a french coffee press, coffee and chicory, cups... and no pot to boil water. Go figure.

I bought a new, smaller aerobed. It fits into my 'bedroom'. I was pushing it in, and suddenly, it caught on a small bit of sharp wood, ripping a hole in it. As it slowly deflated, I lay in the middle, humming "Nearer My God to Thee".

Duct tape has created a temporary solution to my personal Titanic disaster, I have a towel for right now, one pillow and a blanket until the nice UPS guy shows up.

I'm in walking distance of the Staten Island train which takes me to the ferry which takes me to Bowling Green and there I am, back in Manhattan!

Once I unpack 15 boxes and do the "Why in the hell did I pack that?", I'll be ready to find a TV, sort out a sofa, and get moving back into the life here.

My first call was from K, who woke me up yesterday with "Welcome home"

Yep, I'm home. Now, if I can figure out how to keep Titanic from leaking air in the middle of the night....


Bud said...

Such a nightmare. Welcome back, though. You'll get over this odd period of adjustment, I bet. No love bugs in NYC anyway. Unless you want to count those creepy guys on the subway when it's SRO.

golfwidow said...

"Nero, my dog, has fleas. Nero, my dog ..."

Loobell said...

Ahh those dreadful airport traumas.. Not good for the OCD when it all goes horribly wrong.. *sigh*
Hope the packages all arrived in one piece. Can't wait to follow your adventures. :-)

Peter Varvel said...

Film makers are sooo going to mine this entry for a tragi-comic scene in your bio pic.
Who's your first choice to play you?