on sunday morning i walked from kent's to the earl's court station, rode the tube 4 stops to victoria station, bought a train ticket to gatwick, traveled the 47 minutes to said airport, walked from south terminal to north, approached british airways check-in desk.
"sorry," a chipper, navy-vested lady said, "we're actually not flying to atlanta today. but no worries. we'll get you back tomorrow."
see, at least in the states the poor customer service person would be expecting someone as bitchy as me. they'd have the holiday inn vouchers, the free calling cards, the pizza gift cards in hand. perhaps a prescription of zanax.
this woman, though-- shocked at my reaction (which was basically, you will get me home today. figure it out.).
next thing i know, i'm in orlando for 6 hours. the only important thing that happened on the transcontinental flight is that i managed to not only watch live free or die hard, hairspray, and no reservations, but i also managed to cry at some point during each one (bruce willis saves daughter from american terrorist, televised dance floor integration, and any scene when the little girl from little miss sunshine cries respectively). so i'm in orlando and everyone, it seems, is returning from a jamaican thanksgiving cruise. many of them are obese and wearing very few clothes. most have had their hair braided. all are white. there are entire stores devoted to those croc shoe things. red and green ones!!! the genius of it. the only two restaurants are outback steakhouse and burger king. everyone is in love and in a committed relationship, which isn't helping anything.
when i was sixteen, i missed a connecting flight from boston to atlanta. my family had been sailing off the coast of maine with another family. i hadn't showered in five days, was still recoverning from my godfather's new wife who drank zimas the duration of our trip and wore really big hats, from the fact that--inexplicably--the only book i had on board was bridges of madison county. anyway, i was flying back early and alone so that i could make it to my algebra II summer school exam.
"not to worry," the lady said, handing me a holiday inn voucher. "we'll fly you out at 5 am." i lost it, began shouting "i'm only sixteen" while pounding open palm on counter. looking back, i should have said nothing, gone to the HI, pounded a couple mini bottles. the lady took me to a security guard, who was holding two other "stowaways." they gave us three cots, a personal pan pizza from domino's, and a 2 minute calling card. we slept in a holding room while two guards manned the door all night.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
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10 comments:
Wait-
You didn't cry when John McClane(McClaine?-doesn't matter) kept an 18 wheeler from going off the side of a bridge after dodging a missle simply by grunting and turning the wheel really hard? I figured that would have torn you up.
I always wondered who would win in a fight between John M. and Martin Riggs. Maybe it can be decided when the writers strike is over. Then the debate will be over and I can watch new episodes of "Two and Half Men." Awsome.
mmm zima.
What the FUCK is up with your layout? What is that? Some dream fantasy thing? All women want to be lifted into the air? You guys are cooler than that. Wait...
Tilly Losch is my favorite Cornell box! I finally got to see her last Christmas at the National Portrait Gallery. The box is even more delicate and beautiful in person... It's not a dreamy fantasy woman in that box; it's time.
"thank you, emily," she said, kicking jarvis undder the table and judging him via facial expression.
dammit. thwarted again, via spelling error.
I don't read anymore; I just come for the change of layout. I like the dream fantasy woman in a box. ;)
I have to admit, seeing all of the different boxes makes me want to make some.
Mamie-did you make it to Portobello in London? That street is v. kewl.
yes, but it was rainy and we got lost after and ended up at a four story whole foods. went on a saturday for open market...forgot the crowds. mild panic attack.
right now you're doing that "do not disturb" thing on g-mail. like hannah. v. annoying.
How can it be annoying when we've NEVER talked via g-chat?
Green now? Really?
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