airplane hell
Jul. 6th, 2002 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
egypturnashToday is my birthday.
Ever since I moved out to LA, I've tended to take a trip home for it. Not every year, but most years. Since I've been, at best, only barely financially solvent, my mother usually pays for the plane ticket.
Usually this is no problem. She goes to the travel agent she's used for ages, gets an e-ticket, I get an itinerary in the mail and swap it for boarding passes at the airport. But you just know that any paragraph starting along the lines of 'Usually this is no problem...' is going to be the lead in to an exception, don't you?
At the moment, my apartment is being occupied by two friends from home who came out to LA for the first time; their main plans for the long weekend involve going to Magic Mountain and riding lots of rollercoasters. They flew in on the 3rd and slept at a motel, then on the 4th we got together - I gave them a tour of Spümcø; we got some lunch, got keys to my apartment made so they could get in and out, then it was off to LAX with me and my bag because my plane was leaving around 6:15.
Of course, we got a little lost on the freeways; they'd never been to LA, and I don't drive. I had my Thomas Guide with me so we were able to muddle through. I got to the airport with about an hour to spare; more than enough time, I was sure.
Then the airline refused to swap my itinerary for boarding passes. They were insistent that I did NOT have an e-ticket, that I was supposed to have a paper ticket. The system acknowledged that I had a reservation, but not that it had been paid for. They offered to sell me a new ticket for eight hundred dollars. I gave them a horrified look and declined. Some back and forth on the phone with my mother resulted in us agreeing that, damnit, I was supposed to have an e-ticket, I should be on that plane, what the hell was going wrong? A little after the plane had left without me, I gave up. Thankfully my friends had their celphone with them, and give out the number on their home answering machine; I was able to get them to come rescue me from the airport.
Back home, I discovered that, curiously enough, there WAS a paper ticket in the pile of stuff on my desk. Crap.
Thankfully, I was able to get on standby for another flight home without paying more money. Unfortunately, it left at midnight and went to Chicago, then I had a four-hour wait before the flight from there to New Orleans. Unsure as to if we'd be able to get a refund, I took it.
So my poor friends got to drive out to LAX from Glendale again. They're not paying me anything for the use of my apartment, so they didn't mind a little more chauffeuring than we'd intended. We conversed about assorted stuff on the drives.
I got in and was able to get confirmation on both flights, so that was good. Boarding was just about to start as I got to the gate; looking at a person in front of me in line I realized that Chicago is in Illinois - maybe I'd be able to get the wolf to come out for an unexpected visit in the early hours of my birthday!
As I walked into the plane, I thought the back of the person in front of me looked familiar. When he gave his seat number to the stewardess at the door of the 747, I was sure - I was in line behind Steve Martin. (The furry artist, not the comedian.) By some bizarre coincidence, his assigned seat was the one right in front of me, so I made a comment about 'got to stow those markers safely' when he was putting his art bin in the overhead storage. He's only met me once, so didn't instantly recognize me, and was quite puzzled as to how I knew what was in there. We talked some. He was on his way up to a SF con in the northeast that weekend, and then on to Anthrocon the next weekend.
For the first time in my life, the film on the flight was one somebody in their right mind would actually want to see - 'Ice Age'! But it wasn't; instead, we were treated to this terrible sports thing from Disney called 'The Rookie'. Steve bugged the passing stewardesses about this bait-and-switch a few times until one informed him that they'd gotten the wrong tape. I just read.
I'm pretty sure he's still absolutely unsure as to what my gender is (he had no clue when we met at the party after the Fur-B-Q); because I like to play that game, I tend to refuse to answer a direct question. He had that 'm-or-f?' look about him when I glanced back while leaving the plane. Talked a bit more while checking out the departure board; I wished him luck at the dealer's rooms, and we went to our separate gates.
I phoned my mother to reassure here that I was in Chicago and was confirmed for the connection home, then tried calling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
defenbaugh, the aforementioned wolf, in hopes that the town he lives in is actually close enough to Chicago that he could come distract me a bit; unfortunately, he'd left for a gaming tournament. Wah! I just read some more and tried to deal with the fact that I was not at all prepared for the ambient temperature of O'Hare - it's just a little on the chilly side when you've come from the desert, are bound for the swamps, and only have t-shirts.
The second flight was uneventful. Immediately upon leaving the plane, I was struck by a wall of hot, muggy air - I thought I was ready for New Orleans air, but I forgot that the umbilical between the jet and the terminal was open up until it kissed the side of the plane, and was, thus, full of swamp-city air. Welcome home, Peggy. Ugh.
My mother insisted on dragging me to the bank so I could be a co-signatory on the accounts, Just In Case. They were a little annoyed at the California ID, and then again at the fact that it expired today - something I didn't realize until then. I really, really hope the airline doesn't pick up on the expiry date and not let me onto the plane back to LA! yet another thing I shall have to deal with upon my return.
All these little details lost in the rush to get stuff together while working the night shift... it turns out that the travel agent also thought he was giving me an e-ticket; they are going to try and figure out just what the heck happened.
After all that, I took off my clothes and crawled into bed when we got to my mother's place. I'd been traveling for something like eighteen hours, if you count the abortive first trip to LAX and back. I needed it. Later she managed to pry me out of bed so we could go see a production of 'Love's Labours Lost', a Shakespeare play neither of us had seen. We seem to be starting a tradition that me coming home involves going to see some Shakespeare.
I'm also vaguely dreading my grandmother's reaction to the (fading too fast, damn cheap dye) purple-blue gradient streak my hair now sports. Oh well.
I hope everyone else's 4th was better than mine. I'm going to go to bed very soon.
Ever since I moved out to LA, I've tended to take a trip home for it. Not every year, but most years. Since I've been, at best, only barely financially solvent, my mother usually pays for the plane ticket.
Usually this is no problem. She goes to the travel agent she's used for ages, gets an e-ticket, I get an itinerary in the mail and swap it for boarding passes at the airport. But you just know that any paragraph starting along the lines of 'Usually this is no problem...' is going to be the lead in to an exception, don't you?
At the moment, my apartment is being occupied by two friends from home who came out to LA for the first time; their main plans for the long weekend involve going to Magic Mountain and riding lots of rollercoasters. They flew in on the 3rd and slept at a motel, then on the 4th we got together - I gave them a tour of Spümcø; we got some lunch, got keys to my apartment made so they could get in and out, then it was off to LAX with me and my bag because my plane was leaving around 6:15.
Of course, we got a little lost on the freeways; they'd never been to LA, and I don't drive. I had my Thomas Guide with me so we were able to muddle through. I got to the airport with about an hour to spare; more than enough time, I was sure.
Then the airline refused to swap my itinerary for boarding passes. They were insistent that I did NOT have an e-ticket, that I was supposed to have a paper ticket. The system acknowledged that I had a reservation, but not that it had been paid for. They offered to sell me a new ticket for eight hundred dollars. I gave them a horrified look and declined. Some back and forth on the phone with my mother resulted in us agreeing that, damnit, I was supposed to have an e-ticket, I should be on that plane, what the hell was going wrong? A little after the plane had left without me, I gave up. Thankfully my friends had their celphone with them, and give out the number on their home answering machine; I was able to get them to come rescue me from the airport.
Back home, I discovered that, curiously enough, there WAS a paper ticket in the pile of stuff on my desk. Crap.
Thankfully, I was able to get on standby for another flight home without paying more money. Unfortunately, it left at midnight and went to Chicago, then I had a four-hour wait before the flight from there to New Orleans. Unsure as to if we'd be able to get a refund, I took it.
So my poor friends got to drive out to LAX from Glendale again. They're not paying me anything for the use of my apartment, so they didn't mind a little more chauffeuring than we'd intended. We conversed about assorted stuff on the drives.
I got in and was able to get confirmation on both flights, so that was good. Boarding was just about to start as I got to the gate; looking at a person in front of me in line I realized that Chicago is in Illinois - maybe I'd be able to get the wolf to come out for an unexpected visit in the early hours of my birthday!
As I walked into the plane, I thought the back of the person in front of me looked familiar. When he gave his seat number to the stewardess at the door of the 747, I was sure - I was in line behind Steve Martin. (The furry artist, not the comedian.) By some bizarre coincidence, his assigned seat was the one right in front of me, so I made a comment about 'got to stow those markers safely' when he was putting his art bin in the overhead storage. He's only met me once, so didn't instantly recognize me, and was quite puzzled as to how I knew what was in there. We talked some. He was on his way up to a SF con in the northeast that weekend, and then on to Anthrocon the next weekend.
For the first time in my life, the film on the flight was one somebody in their right mind would actually want to see - 'Ice Age'! But it wasn't; instead, we were treated to this terrible sports thing from Disney called 'The Rookie'. Steve bugged the passing stewardesses about this bait-and-switch a few times until one informed him that they'd gotten the wrong tape. I just read.
I'm pretty sure he's still absolutely unsure as to what my gender is (he had no clue when we met at the party after the Fur-B-Q); because I like to play that game, I tend to refuse to answer a direct question. He had that 'm-or-f?' look about him when I glanced back while leaving the plane. Talked a bit more while checking out the departure board; I wished him luck at the dealer's rooms, and we went to our separate gates.
I phoned my mother to reassure here that I was in Chicago and was confirmed for the connection home, then tried calling
defenbaugh, the aforementioned wolf, in hopes that the town he lives in is actually close enough to Chicago that he could come distract me a bit; unfortunately, he'd left for a gaming tournament. Wah! I just read some more and tried to deal with the fact that I was not at all prepared for the ambient temperature of O'Hare - it's just a little on the chilly side when you've come from the desert, are bound for the swamps, and only have t-shirts.The second flight was uneventful. Immediately upon leaving the plane, I was struck by a wall of hot, muggy air - I thought I was ready for New Orleans air, but I forgot that the umbilical between the jet and the terminal was open up until it kissed the side of the plane, and was, thus, full of swamp-city air. Welcome home, Peggy. Ugh.
My mother insisted on dragging me to the bank so I could be a co-signatory on the accounts, Just In Case. They were a little annoyed at the California ID, and then again at the fact that it expired today - something I didn't realize until then. I really, really hope the airline doesn't pick up on the expiry date and not let me onto the plane back to LA! yet another thing I shall have to deal with upon my return.
All these little details lost in the rush to get stuff together while working the night shift... it turns out that the travel agent also thought he was giving me an e-ticket; they are going to try and figure out just what the heck happened.
After all that, I took off my clothes and crawled into bed when we got to my mother's place. I'd been traveling for something like eighteen hours, if you count the abortive first trip to LAX and back. I needed it. Later she managed to pry me out of bed so we could go see a production of 'Love's Labours Lost', a Shakespeare play neither of us had seen. We seem to be starting a tradition that me coming home involves going to see some Shakespeare.
I'm also vaguely dreading my grandmother's reaction to the (fading too fast, damn cheap dye) purple-blue gradient streak my hair now sports. Oh well.
I hope everyone else's 4th was better than mine. I'm going to go to bed very soon.
no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 09:35 am (UTC)I'm sorry, LAX is useless these days...
Date: 2002-07-06 12:44 pm (UTC)I've sworn off LAX for any form of travel, and have informed my company I refuse to deal with it any longer. Burbank, Ontario, Long Beach, hell book me on Greyhound, anything is better than LAX, and all of them are metric ass-loads more friendly too. I'm sorry, micro-rant, all the bullshit they're pulling at LAX hasn't improved security one bit, as the shooting has so vividly proved. Yeah, having armed security is a good thing, but not treating people like pig's at a Farmer John slaughterhouse.
As a side-note, JFK, the airport that had those planes start from, isn't being as ass-munchy about stupid, pointless restrictions at LAX is. :-) That alone should tell folks something.
no subject
Date: 2002-07-07 12:05 am (UTC)The shooting was in the international terminal; LAX has several (8, I think) terminals for those who haven't been there - it's huge. I'm not sure how much the chaos caused by the shooting would've spread to other terminals. That said, I was there after the shooting, I think - wasn't it mid-dayish?
no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 10:09 am (UTC)I luv j00, Peggy! j00 r0x0r!
no subject
Date: 2002-07-06 10:19 pm (UTC)HMPF!
Date: 2002-07-09 01:21 pm (UTC)or that you added me as a lj friend or that it's your birthday!
*grumps briefly, but then relents and noses*
you seem/sound muddled, happy birthday and take
care of yourself, yes. this will be handy for keeping
up with you!
*hugs*
Re: HMPF!
Date: 2002-07-09 02:11 pm (UTC)And I didn't really publicize my joining LJ; I just started showing up on friends-of lists and making non-anonymous comments. It's been interesting to watch the growth of the friends-of list in some sort of socioligical observation manner.