Sunday, September 25, 2011

TSA Owes Me Money. And Probably Liquor.

Guess what??

I went out west! No, not to Arizona. I've decided that's probably not a good idea all around. Wes and I took the Roo and headed to Colorado for his sister's wedding.

Good times, right? Semi-vacation, family to hold the baby, and open bar. What could go wrong?


Worth it.

Let me first say that the entire trip [eventually] turned out to be awesome and I'm glad I went along. I thought about sending the hubs all alone, but decided that I didn't want him to have that much fun without me. So we packed up and booked a flight from St. Louis to Denver.

Our flight was scheduled for the ass-crack of dawn Friday morning, so I decided that I wouldn't sleep Thursday night, since we needed to head out of town about 2 am. I am so brilliant. The thing was that I had been up since 7:00 Thursday morning. But, hey, I can do this, no problem. So I woke up Wes at 1:00 and we started loading up the car. However, between last-minute packing, tanking up on coffee, nursing, and visiting with a friend who was hanging out at our house in the middle of the night (???), we didn't get on the road until 2:20. Whoops. We were on the interstate by 2:40.

It takes 2 and a half hours to get to St. Louis, but apparently it takes 3 to get to my friend's house. He was taking us to the airport so we didn't have to pay a small fortune in parking fees. Cool. GO GO GO and we arrived at the airport about 45 minutes before our flight took off.

Taking into account my lack of sleep, panic at running late, and overstimulation from coffee, and you have on your hands one certified basketcase. So I fly into the airport (get it?) and start checking in while Wes brings in the bags. The woman at the desk....... I cannot express how much I am not a fan of hers. She added to my hysteria by saying, "They're boarding the plane now. They won't wait for you. You're gonna miss your flight."

I suppose at any point I could've told myself that the plane wasn't taking off for over half an hour, but I let that bitch send me into panic mode. And then she looks at us and goes, "I don't have time to check that bag."

Are you freaking kidding me???

So we lugged that huge friggin' bag aaaaall the way to the security check, as per instructions from the ugly woman at the desk. Yeah, I said it. She was ugly. I ran down there with Roo in her car seat banging against my legs, in flip flops, shelf bra... It was like the Girl Scouts fiasco all over again.

Of course I had loaded all the things that I knew I couldn't carry onto the plane into that bag. Including the, um, WEDDING GIFT. That I made. That's right. Body wash and lotion with herbs from my garden. And we all know that if a liquid is over 3.4 ounces and you try to take it through security, they take it away. Forever. Some Frontier Airline worker is now fragrantly moisturized at my expense. I'm sure of it.

So, of course, they unpack the entire bag because the gift was at the bottom. Bras and panties all over the place; I'm crying; Wes is trying to get them to put our stuff through. But noooooo. They can't let these items into the "sterile area." I am confident they made that up. Face wash, hair stuff, wedding present, etc, all gone. In all, they probably stole about $70 worth of my stuff. At this point, I'm all, "FINE, just put us through so we can get on the plane."

Finally we get to the gate. And the guy there is completely sympathetic and tells me he'll try to get my things back. Whatever. Just get us on that plane!

We did.

Get on the plane, that is. Not get our stuff back.

So, we get on that winged bus, and we are the last to load because of the holdup at security. By this time, Roo is wailing. We step on with a screaming baby and get about 100 dirty looks. "HI, friends."

She was awesome, though. Nursed the entire flight. People were soooo impressed. Eye roll.

I must say, the flight attendants were awesome, considering what they had to deal with. The woman in front of me (who had super long hair that I wanted to tug the entire flight) actually asked the female flight attendant for a salad and a bottle of water. At 7 am. Teehee. The guy next to her complained that the bottled water was AquaFina. Dude, seriously? I would've been tacky, but the flight attendant just smiled and cursed them under her breath. The other flight attendant, though.... Well. He was just as sweeeeet as he could be. And he had a thing for my husband. Most gay guys do. He's just that cute. And he slipped Wes a free bottle of water. Score. I'd let that guy pinch his ass if it meant we got freebies, after the morning we had had.

We get to Denver airspace, and I'm all, "Ok, this is gonna be fine."

Nope. Fog.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've been put in a holding pattern until the fog clears."

Do we have enough gas for this????

So for an hour, we circle.

Wes and I decided that the pilot shoulda mixed it up, turned on the fasten seatbelt light, and thrown out some loop-de-loops. I was so delirious at that point, I probably would've enjoyed it.

We finally reunite with the ground a mile above sea level. Hey, what better for a sleep-deprived, caffeine-riddled, overstressed mom with a baby strapped to her chest than high altitude??? Maybe a bloody Mary...

Wonder of all wonders, our bag was actually there. I was totally prepared to not have it at all, but there it was, all alone in baggage claim. Molested and beaten, but there, nonetheless. Sad little bag.

Smooth sailing from here on out, y'all. Not really. Well, it would've been, if I had any inkling which rental car company our reservation was with. But I had not the slightest clue. And the paper with the info? Sitting on my kitchen counter. Go ME. So I finally find the information in my junk email folder (thank you, Steve Jobs) and we get on a shuttle toward Avis. There, the guy tries to get me to upgrade to an SUV, get insurance on the car, coverage for rocks in the windshield, side of the road assistance, pigeon poop on the bumper, and whatever else bullshit they use to try to suck you in. 

Mister, if a boulder falls on that car, you're not getting on more penny out of me after all these taxes and fees because I don't have one!!

He did sell me on a tank of gas. Then upgraded us to a Ford Fusion, which gets like 10000 miles to the gallon. Bastard.

Look! A semblance of sanity!

Yes, I realize that the humor in all this might be lost on many of you. And later, it was funny. Like, five days later, but whatever.

The rest of the trip was a blast, though. I'm totally in love with Colorado.

1 comment:

  1. I love naked Barbies! but I think there is a pervert hanging out stripping them down at your house.