I think I have some sort of travel curse over my head. I’ve never had my safety jeopardized or anything tragic like that, thank “god,” but most of the time, traveling is just a tremendous pain in the ass for me.
Case in point:
The last three years that I have gone home in the winter, I have been stuck in one city or another at some point during my travel. Just to warn you, I am about to launch into a bit of a rant on my bad luck with airlines, however there is a positive outcome at the end of all this…stay tuned.
January 2005 Sacramento to Tulsa, connecting through Denver.
I should have never gotten on the plane. My flight was so delayed out of Sacramento because of snow in Denver that I knew getting on the plane meant missing my connection. Before leaving sunny Sacramento, I had secured a flight for the following day to Oklahoma City (instead of Tulsa). Then, after a sleepless night in the Motel 6 –which, consequently, I had to pay for, including cab fare each way- the snow that had hit Denver, was now in Oklahoma, so my parents couldn’t drive the hour and a half to pick me up in OKC, so I was stranded there as well. Luckily, my good friend (albeit, a Sooner) Chris, gave up a date to come rescue me from the airport and let me crash with him in Norman. Thank you again, Chris. Fun Stuff.
Motel 6 on a snowed in night in Denver $90
Cab fare each way to and from the airport $50
Learning that next time, my carry-on should have useful items like a cell phone charger and shampoo…priceless.
December 2005 Oakland to Tulsa, connecting through Dallas.
I had learned my lesson…no way am I going to connect through Denver in the snow. Dallas, this time. And my carry-on had everything I needed in it to get me through the night, should I need it. So my flight left on time. We arrived in Dallas on time. We are taxi-ing to the gate and then…what’s this? There’s another plane still at our gate…we have to wait for them to leave before we can park and de-plane. 15 minutes…20 minutes…30 minutes…we got off the plane at the same time my connection was taking off. And since it was the last flight to Tulsa out of Dallas that evening…guess who spent the night at the Motel 6 in Dallas? Yup…at least this time it was on American Airlines. I was booked for the 6am to Tulsa the next morning. I had a hot bath, watched a Lifetime made-for-TV movie and was in Tulsa by 8am the next day.
January 2007 Sacramento to Tulsa, connecting through Denver.
Okay, so I was a little nervous. Denver was just closed a week or so prior to this flight because of a massive snow storm and I was hoping I wouldn’t get stuck. Especially since now, you can’t really pack liquid provisions in your carry-on, just because somebody figured out you could haul weapons of mass destruction in the air as long as you cleverly disguised it with a shampoo bottle. I packed a hat. So…I get to the airport…the plane boards on time…we take off on time, we land on time and then I connect through Denver as planned. I made it home in one day. Whew. I have 10 lovely days in Oklahoma and my flight will leave on Saturday. However, mid-week, the local weatherman begins jumping up and down predicting a MAJOR ice storm to hit Tulsa on Saturday. Perfect. So, after waiting it out a day or so…and then witnessing the grocery stores selling out of things like bags of salt, and makins’ for hot cocoa and beef stew, and the news reporters interviewing hardware stores about purchasing generators to run the heat in your homes, we decided to change my flight to Friday (a $100 fee) to beat the storm. So on Friday, I’m all packed up and we get to the airport. It’s freezing cold, but not icy…yet. My flight is listed as "on time" and I’m checked in. I grab a sandwich and I notice a few flurries. My flight is still listed as on-time. I browse the gift shop and consider buying a t-shirt that has a picture of the state of Oklahoma on the front and the phrase, “Nothing tips like a cow,” on the back when a woman comes over the intercom and announces that all Continental Airlines flights have been cancelled out of Tulsa. I’m flying United, but this is not promising. I go back to my gate, and they’ve changed the status of my flight to “delayed.” A few minutes go by and the flurries have turned to flakes, and then the flakes turn to icy crystals and Southwest Airlines cancels all flights. My flight is still delayed. Finally United comes over the intercom and announces that my plane, which is flying in from Denver is going to attempt to land. If they can do so, then we’ll leave for Denver shortly after, however if they can’t…then the plane will turn around and go back to Denver with its original passengers on it. Oh boy.
My plane landed in Tulsa. Then, the pilot decided to wait another 45 minutes for the next weather report to be issued before boarding and deciding whether we should try to fly out. Finally, they cancelled my flight, which meant another 2 days in Tulsa and I was out $100, but we didn’t lose power and I baked cookies and played cards…so it was fine. I was re-scheduled for Monday.
Monday…I get to the airport and check in only to find that my flight has been delayed…and the delay is going to guarantee that I miss my connection in Denver. This is very familiar territory. They can book me for sure on a flight with a different airline at 10pm that night, but I can try for standby on other flights up until that point. Goodie. My plane finally leaves Tulsa 3 hours after it is scheduled to and I arrive in Denver ready to jump from gate to gate on standby until something works out.
Now, I need to take this moment to tell you that I am an extremely good sport during all of these adventures. Yes, it sucks…a lot. But, I am not one to take it out on the customer service reps at the counters in the airport and can pretty much roll with the punches when it comes to situations that are out of my control…to a point. This is not to say that I was not frustrated or tired, or cranky, but I am all smiles to the people making the decisions and I think that is why it all paid off and what happened next happened:
The very next flight out of Denver had a standby seat available for me…in first class.
~Queue the sounds of angels singing~
Ahh…first class. How the other half lives. I’ve seen it, and frankly, I loved it. I plan to one day be a regular first class customer. Well, I aspire to. I currently have nowhere near the kind of income needed to support that aspiration, nor am I in a career field that will bring me that kind of financial liberty. One can dream, though, right?
I do have to say that it is really just not fair that first class is so fabulous. I’ve said before that I’ve felt like cattle when flying coach, and now I know….we are indeed just a line of cows being shuffled into the rear of the cabin while coats are being checked and cocktails are complimentary behind that little curtain. I was greeted with a welcome beverage. Then just after take-off, I was given a little white ramekin filled with warm mixed nuts while our attendant took our dinner order. A full plate of food on an airplane? You don’t even get the tiny bag of pretzels in the back anymore. And it wasn’t bad. I’m a total food snob and of course it wasn’t fabulous, but it wasn’t bad. They served it on a tray, and our table-top was lined with a linen napkin, and I had wine with dinner. And afterwards, I was given a hot towel to cleanse my fingers. Yes…a hot towel. I’m telling you, this gig is just a massage away from a spa retreat compared to coach.
So I lucked out in the end…I suppose. It was quite nice to experience and I wouldn’t mind doing it again…however, I would handle being one of the cows in the back happily if it meant I was going to get to where the ticket says I’m going at the time it says I’ll get there.
Happy travels and safe flights to you all.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Feels Like Home
So…It’s been awhile since I’ve written. So sorry to keep my swarms of readers on the edge of their seats, waiting for the newest edition of “what Katie thinks.” Where the hell have I been? Well, I moved. And I got busy…and distracted…but I’m back.
So, on my new place…
It’s a studio, in an old Victorian house, in downtown Napa. It’s small and cozy and oozing with character. It’s very New York City meets San Francisco, or at least that is how I’m choosing to describe it. The ceilings are high, the space is limited, there is crown molding and a claw-footed bathtub, and the kitchen is green, per my request. I love it. The best part about it, is that it’s mine. If there are dishes in the sink, they are mine. If the bed isn’t made, it’s mine, if there is laundry to be done, it is mine. And when it’s quiet and I’ve just gotten home from a busy night at work and all I want to do is curl up in front of On Demand, then I can…because nobody else is there and I have sole possession of the remote control.
If you can’t tell, I’ve just left a roommate situation.
Don’t get me wrong, living with my roommates was a blast. It was like three’s company…or at least an alternative version of it. It was great. There was always somebody to talk to, and eat dinner with. We had a whole “scare the shit out of each other” campaign, which was hilarious. Think gigantic inflatable rabbits, rubber scorpions and wrapping on the window at night. But there is just something exciting and empowering when you make that leap to live on your own, and depend on only yourself. It also is very appealing when your best friend and roommate moves to Arizona and the other roommate falls in love with a nut job and begins to exhibit psychotic behavior.
So, back to the studio…it is fabulous, but not without its quirks. The refrigerator is vintage…a.k.a. “old,” and it keeps food cold, which is what it is supposed to do, however, the freezer takes about 4 days to make ice. And Healthy Choice Premium Fudge Bars don’t stand a chance, The bathtub is giant and high-sided and perfect with the appropriate number of candles lit and the right selection of music playing, but the hot water faucet handle is stripped, so it just spins on the fixture. But, determined bath-taker that I am, figured out that if you turn the inside of the handle with a screwdriver, the hot water will turn on, so a hot bath requires tools. And until just today, through some of the coldest nights the Napa Valley has seen this year, I was without heat. It was like the tundra in here. I had a whole “get warm before bed” system though…I took the screwdriver and cranked up the hot bath and soaked…then slipped into cozy pajamas and socks, and piled the blankets high in the Japanese tradition. It was teeth chatteringly cozy. I have already fought (and won) a battle with an army of ants in my kitchen. And no matter how many storage boxes I organize and fill, I can’t seem to find a place for all of my stuff (shocking, I’m sure, to those of you who know me and know how much stuff I have). But it’s mine.
The first meal I cooked in my new place was Thanksgiving dinner. A successful little soiree which included the fabulous company of one iclandic-austrian-american daughter of a spy, a charming german girl with a digital camera and the option to record video, and a clever and creative gay man whom I once had the pleasure of calling roommate. The four of us enjoyed turkey with all the “fixins” and laughed most of the evening. Highlights include a very embarrassing video of Inga and I playing “fluffy bunny.”
Since that beginning of the single life in my new abode, I’ve settled. I’m used to the commute and I carpool with a coworker who also lives in Napa to save on gas. I have visited the Laundromat (Launderworld) and think that if I purchase one more set of work clothes, I will be able to go a whole month before doing laundry. Yes, I have that many clothes. No, I do not have that much closet space.
Christmas was nice…Fajitas and margaritas with fellow friends not near their families for the holidays…however, nothing is quite like Christmas at home. And it’s always when we get close to the January break, and I know I’ll be going home for a visit soon, that I start to miss them the most. So that’s what I’m up to now…getting ready for the trip home and crossing my fingers that my January connection through Denver is not a complete disaster. Keep your fingers crossed, too.
So, on my new place…
It’s a studio, in an old Victorian house, in downtown Napa. It’s small and cozy and oozing with character. It’s very New York City meets San Francisco, or at least that is how I’m choosing to describe it. The ceilings are high, the space is limited, there is crown molding and a claw-footed bathtub, and the kitchen is green, per my request. I love it. The best part about it, is that it’s mine. If there are dishes in the sink, they are mine. If the bed isn’t made, it’s mine, if there is laundry to be done, it is mine. And when it’s quiet and I’ve just gotten home from a busy night at work and all I want to do is curl up in front of On Demand, then I can…because nobody else is there and I have sole possession of the remote control.
If you can’t tell, I’ve just left a roommate situation.
Don’t get me wrong, living with my roommates was a blast. It was like three’s company…or at least an alternative version of it. It was great. There was always somebody to talk to, and eat dinner with. We had a whole “scare the shit out of each other” campaign, which was hilarious. Think gigantic inflatable rabbits, rubber scorpions and wrapping on the window at night. But there is just something exciting and empowering when you make that leap to live on your own, and depend on only yourself. It also is very appealing when your best friend and roommate moves to Arizona and the other roommate falls in love with a nut job and begins to exhibit psychotic behavior.
So, back to the studio…it is fabulous, but not without its quirks. The refrigerator is vintage…a.k.a. “old,” and it keeps food cold, which is what it is supposed to do, however, the freezer takes about 4 days to make ice. And Healthy Choice Premium Fudge Bars don’t stand a chance, The bathtub is giant and high-sided and perfect with the appropriate number of candles lit and the right selection of music playing, but the hot water faucet handle is stripped, so it just spins on the fixture. But, determined bath-taker that I am, figured out that if you turn the inside of the handle with a screwdriver, the hot water will turn on, so a hot bath requires tools. And until just today, through some of the coldest nights the Napa Valley has seen this year, I was without heat. It was like the tundra in here. I had a whole “get warm before bed” system though…I took the screwdriver and cranked up the hot bath and soaked…then slipped into cozy pajamas and socks, and piled the blankets high in the Japanese tradition. It was teeth chatteringly cozy. I have already fought (and won) a battle with an army of ants in my kitchen. And no matter how many storage boxes I organize and fill, I can’t seem to find a place for all of my stuff (shocking, I’m sure, to those of you who know me and know how much stuff I have). But it’s mine.
The first meal I cooked in my new place was Thanksgiving dinner. A successful little soiree which included the fabulous company of one iclandic-austrian-american daughter of a spy, a charming german girl with a digital camera and the option to record video, and a clever and creative gay man whom I once had the pleasure of calling roommate. The four of us enjoyed turkey with all the “fixins” and laughed most of the evening. Highlights include a very embarrassing video of Inga and I playing “fluffy bunny.”
Since that beginning of the single life in my new abode, I’ve settled. I’m used to the commute and I carpool with a coworker who also lives in Napa to save on gas. I have visited the Laundromat (Launderworld) and think that if I purchase one more set of work clothes, I will be able to go a whole month before doing laundry. Yes, I have that many clothes. No, I do not have that much closet space.
Christmas was nice…Fajitas and margaritas with fellow friends not near their families for the holidays…however, nothing is quite like Christmas at home. And it’s always when we get close to the January break, and I know I’ll be going home for a visit soon, that I start to miss them the most. So that’s what I’m up to now…getting ready for the trip home and crossing my fingers that my January connection through Denver is not a complete disaster. Keep your fingers crossed, too.
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