Flight To Nowhere

Several hours late, but Jennie is finally off for a week-long veterinary management conference. I had forgotten how small and poorly-served our local airport is, so I guess this is a good reminder. There is, or might be, a restaurant at the airport, but it is not open on Saturdays. With no schedule listed, it might not be open any days. None of the car rental facilities (facility?) are open Saturday morning. Instead of handing your checked baggage to an attendant so it can be sent back to be checked, the attendant sends you around the corner, through the door marked “Authorized Personnel Only”, to drop your baggage off next to the baggage X-Ray machine. So not only do you get to fly out from here, you get a very short stint as an airport intern. Yay!

It only took an extra two hours to leave here, with the result being her thirty minute layover in San Francisco will now be seven hours. At least she made it out. When the delays were first announced, we wandered over to Alaska Airlines, the only other airline at the airport, to see if we could get a flight out on a different airline. They have one flight for today, leaving at noon. United, and its eternal delays, is the only choice unless things get really bad.

While she is gone, I have to give up being a manchild and practice being an adult single parent. No more wandering around, demanding that someone helps me put on my socks. Definitely not a good week to have to have given up coffee. Now I have to make lunch and get the girl-child to school on time. Fortunately, the boy-child has the week off, so I can make him my slave child. Brilliant! He will make the lunches and put my socks on me. Maybe I don’t have to grow up after all.

While waiting for the flight to leave, Jennie kept me abreast of all the latest pre-flight gossip via text. Apparently, one of the people in her row is a nervous flyer and highly flatulent. The flight may only be an hour long, but it will smell like an eternity. And hey, look at that: Another text! They have just been told there will be another forty minute delay. If she is still there at noon, I will swing by with some lunch. And some charcoal tablets for the farter.

2 thoughts on “Flight To Nowhere

  1. Jennifer O

    I made it and now I want to go home. I can at least say I have seen Vegas now I will just spend the rest of my time here hiding in my room. I would love to be a big city girl but at heart I am just a Humboldt County girl. Yes you heard that right — I am a Humboldt County girl. If I did not think I would fall or get myself in trouble I would climb to the top of this stupidly shaped hotel I am in and shout it out to all of the Vegas strip. I am a Humboldt County girl.

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  2. Ariel

    First of all, putting on ones own socks is highly over-rated. I’ve worn socks a handful of times since my stint with paralysis. Help is usually required.

    Secondly, @Jennifer – I spent my {second} honeymoon in Vegas. I cried when we wound up unable to afford the planned Puerto Vallarta trip and had to settle for Vegas. But, shockingly, I had a fantastic time in Vegas. None of that should be attributed to my ex, as he’s a horrid pig. The comedy shows were great. The freely flowing booze on the casino floor was awesome. The buffet dining was an opportunity to try all kinds of things I’d not been exposed to previously. Mind you, I’m not one for dining alone, so I suppose my ex did serve a purpose there.

    My point is, Jen, Vegas isn’t nearly as bad as it first seems. The front desk should be able to provide you with tickets and whatnot, either free or vastly reduced, it’s worth venturing out of your room, promise.

    Oh, and the Eureka/Arcata airport, ACV, in McKinleyville, is indeed an experience uniquely Humboldt. Last time I flew out of there was 2003 for my cousins funeral. To say it’s disorganized would be a compliment given how bad it is. But, I do prefer it to, say, Dallas/Fort Worth, where I was, alone, at 14, trying to find myself a shuttle from one side of the place to the other to catch my connection. It only now occurs to me that I surely have spent at least an entire 24 hours, likely more in the San Francisco airport over the years. Heh. More time than I’ve spent in the town itself.

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