-
My First Thanksgiving
It started out alright. Went to my 8oclock class, and as a reward, was told to write "Thank You" (which had been convienently written on the overhead projector) in Icelandic anywhere on the final exam and get bonus points for it. After that class, I went to the last meeting of my French conversation group, where I proceeded to massacre the language more than usual. Normally, I would then go meet with my English conversation partner, who was a very nice girl from Guinea, but since it was already 11 and I hadn't packed at all (and I had to leave for the airport at 3:30), I called her off. Granted, I could have still met with her and had plenty of time to pack, but I had just met with her the night before and we didn't have anything new to talk about. So I was back at my dorm by 11:30, which was nice because I was then able to see the last of my friends off.
Nothing much happened; I packed up in record time (even though I wasn't rushed) and then I sat around my empty room until it was time to go. The T ride to the airport was crowded, but it was cheap and fairly convienent. I got to the airport two hours before my flight as I'd been instructed by the airline. Nothing interesting happened; I got through security without having to be searched (although I felt sorry for the three year old who wasn't as lucky), and I made my way to the gate. I kept expecting my flight to be delayed, and seeing as I had a very tight connection to make, I was sure the Travel Gods were going to punish me, but the only thing that happened was that they played musical gates for an hour. Luckily, all of the gates were right next to each other, so it really wasn't a problem.
So I made it home without any problems aside from having a Verve Pipe song stuck in my head for the better part of the day.
The next day, I had planned to go into my high school and spend the better part of the morning annoying former teachers. Everything went well-I talked to everyone I had wanted to see and successfully avoided those who I didn't want to see. The rest of vacation went according to plan as well. I got to see my old friends, and of course, I spent time with my family too.
Sunday came around and I packed up what I wanted to take back to the dorms with me. My dad drove me out to the airport, where we learned that my flight was running late. Seeing as my flight was supposed to leave at 7:30, and I only had 30 minutes ground time to make my connection in DC, we opted to have me fly standby on a plane that was also going to DC but was scheduled to leave at 5:35. This flight was running late too, but the guy at the counter said that it would probably leave at 7:05 and that I had a good chance of getting on it. The whole weekend, I had been predicting that my flight back to Beantown was going to be a giant mess.
Damn I wish I wasn't psychic.
I got to the gate where my new flight was supposed to leave. Since my dad didn't have a ticket, he said that he'd wait just outside the security checkpoint until about 7:45, by which time I should safely on the plane and on my merry way.
Sitting at the gate, I thought about doing the homework that I had neglected over the holidays, but my better judgement ruled against it. So I sat and listened to my cd player (the Verve Pipe song was still stuck in my head, so I put in their cd anyway), and I watched time slowly tick by.
When it came to be 7, I began to look around and try to see if the plane had even landed yet. Seeing no plane, I got in line at the little gate station and expressed my concern that I'd miss my connection. The lady at the counter told me that the plane should be in by 7:30 and that I'd have no problems. Relieved, but still not fully trusting the latest report, I sat back down.
At 7:30, when there was still no plane in sight, I got back in line at the gate station. Lady at the Counter #2 said that there was no way I'd make my flight from DC to Beantown. Silently vowing to kill my dad for letting him book flights so close together just to save a few bucks, I asked her what my options were. I was informed that I could go ahead and fly to DC, but since I had been informed ahead of time that I'd miss my connection, the airline would not put me up in a hotel or comp me anything.
Since I wasn't sure if my dad was still in the airport, I asked what my other options were. My only other choice was to go back home with my dad and catch a flight the next day at 4:10pm with a 6:30 connection in Philadelphia. Figuring that it would be better for me to sleep at home instead of somewhere in DC, I chose option #2.
Ticket in hand, I ran out of the gate area to find my dad. Luckily, he had decided to wait past 7:45 and stay until he could confirm that I was on a flight. When I got to him and explained what Lady at the Counter #2 had said, he told me that Guy at the Ticket Counter said that I would have been able to make my connection. How that fact can be knownst to him but unbeknownst to Lady at the Counter #2, I don't know. Either way, I got home a mere three hours after having left. The only upside to the whole thing was that I got to see my tv shows (well, all of them execpt the Simpsons).
I emailed my teachers to let them know I wouldn't be in class on Monday due to the incompetence of the airline industry. Normally, I wouldn't bother, but two of my three Monday classes had fewer than 20 people, so I would be obviously missing (my French class only had 9 kids total).
I went to sleep knowing that the next day I had to buckle down and do my homework, and that I'd be in the dorms by 8pm. Oh, how wrong I was.
©2003By M.E. It's ok to look, but just don't touch. Or steal for that matter.
