July 27, 2002
I’m up above your heads now! Look!
I’m in the air over Dallas.
Sarah’s brother works for Delta, so I’m flying using these “Buddy Passes” he gets for friends and family. They’re cheap(ish) and the upshot usually is that you’ll end up bumped up to Business Elite or First Class. At least, that used to be the bonus. I got to the airport a hour and a half early this morning, but since it took me an hour and a half to get checked in I missed the flight. Then it was another thirty minutes waiting to go through the security checkpoint, where they confiscated my wire cutters (from the guitar case). The next flight to Los Angeles was an hour later, and I ended up bumped from that flight as well. Finally I managed to get a flight into Dallas at around 11am. That leg of the flight, at least, was in first class, so I took advantage of the room and slept. Once in Dallas I had two hours to kill, so I finally ate some food (the first was a meal flight originally, but by the time I finally managed to get a flight it was soda and salad.
Now I’m back in coach flying from Dallas to Los Angeles. I did luck out enough that, even though I’m sitting in the three-seat middle section, the middle seat is empty, so at least I have some shoulder room. But we did sit on the runway for a good thirty minutes or so because all the FAA computers were down, and they had to file a flight plan manually.
I hate flying. Not because it scares me, but because I find it so tedious and uncomfortable. I’ll finally be getting into LA at around 4pm PST, a mere six hours late.
This was a bitchy post. Things will ease up from here on out.
Bumpy flight.
While the above was written on the flight from Dallas to LA, it is now 1:38am in Los Angeles. In the end it took me FIFTEEN hours to get somewhere that should have taken me four and a half. I saw Scott and his lovely far too briefly for dinner, then picked up Robyn and Chris at the airport. I had assumed we’d be next door at the hotel, but instead we’re four floors apart.
I feel alone. And horribly out of place. Though, the thing about feeling out of place here (in LA) is that it’s never an envious feeling. I don’t WANT to be here. I feel dirty every time I come.
It’ll be good to see people I know tomorrow.