[Disclaimer: If you don't stalk my other blog, which is probably the case 'cause only a few people do, then you're reading this two days late.]
I figured since this is my last night in Vegas, I might as well blog about the week I spent in North Carolina right before my current company trip. Better late than never, right? Besides, I haven’t written much in the past month since my time has been occupied by work and Lost, so what would some amandababble hurt.
Itinerary, January 23rd: Wake up at the buttcrack of still night, finish last minute pre-travel needs, drive to airport, park car, check in at Continental, discover I’m dressed too perfectly to get frisked by security, arrive painfully early at terminal yet inhale a fast food breakfast, hurry up and wait, board flight, read, get off flight, lather-rinse-repeat last three steps, get rental car, drive to Greenville, hotel, sleep, breathe.
I hate connecting flights with a passion but, with a book within my grasp, I can get through nearly anything. I spent most of the initial flight sitting next to a woman that was reading the Bible on her Nook. She was a nice lady, but I guess she was hard up for scripture because she seemed to power through the old testament. I sat by the window and stuck to my cheesy drama novel, getting away with not saying much aside from boring pleasantries.
You’d think planes would be fairly dust-free. Ever sneeze so hard, you farted?
I hoped that lady was really into Genesis.
The descent into Houston was UH-mazing. The plane glided right into a cloud bank and it felt like we were surrounded by cotton candy. Not pink, mind you, but white like that mystery-flavored Airhead bar you get when you buy that pack of six. I bet the clouds tasted like awesome, even though, if I could have stuck my hand out the window for a handful, the walls of white would have wisped away from my fingertips like when you reach for something in a dream that isn’t really there.
And then, land. Of course, the gate that’s usually available is in a different terminal, and clear on the other side of the airport, than your connecting flight. Hauling ass, lugging luggage, grumbling under your breath at morons walking at the speed of reverse: This can’t just be my experience when having to change planes. It’s really hard for me to keep my mouth shut in situations like that and not call people sheep or bah at them in their native tongue.
Thankfully, the layover time alotted was perfect. Boarding began shortly after I arrived at the gate located in the far, far away land somehow still locating within Houston. Just as I was about to step into the plane whilst waiting in a line full of more wooly wonders, the captain cuts in. I couldn’t possibly have gotten irritated because holy shit that man was hot. I would have my safety in his hands any time.. and by safety..
Yeah. More reading, only this time with one hand over my left ear and my middle finger blazing at the fairly large yet extremely loud southern man in the row across from mine that didn’t have anything interesting to say. He never noticed my subtle gesture and continued to spew forth juvenile and seemingly one-sided conversation with the dude seated in front of me that never answered with more than a syllable or a grunt. Southern man only shut up when the flight attendant, aka Apple Juice Nazi, came through with beverages. It wasn’t a full flight and the plane was already ridiculously small, but bitch didn’t want to let go of the remains of that can of sweet nectar until she finished asking the rest of the passengers what they wanted to drink. In the end, I got my damn juice, but I had already jedimindkicked the shit out of her.
Charlotte! I upgraded my rental car to a fullsize vehicle because I’m tall and fat like that. First stop, convenience store to stock up on caffeinated goodies for the four hour drive ahead of me. Some people didn’t understand why I didn’t fly to a place closer to Greenville and, well, it would have been ANOTHER connecting flight to Raleigh-Durham and STILL been an hour and a half drive. Fuck that noise. I played radio roulette and bounced from one staticky station to another, singing my guts out (not really, ew) each time I found a song I could decipher, and still arrived at my hotel before I would have, had I taken that third plane.
I checked in at Courtyard Marriott and collapsed on the bed as soon as I saw it. The next week was basically a breeze; I worked, giggled (mostly on the inside) at people’s accents, pissed off my GPS voice lady, etc. The best part about my stay was when two awesome people, that I hadn’t before met face to face, met me at an Applebee’s for some food stuffs, conversation, and hugs. Matt & Jess, you both rule and I can’t wait to see you guys again. <3
I opted for more sleep the one afternoon I could have made it to the coast for an ocean view. It was worth it, seeing as how the next night, I had to pretty much skip slumber and head back to Charlotte. There were as many deer on the shoulder as there were stalled cars, but the absence of sun seemed to clear out the static in order for the music to keep my mind engaged.
The flights home were a blur. Before I knew it, this sleepy bastard was out of NC and home in bed, passed out on a Saturday afternoon before old ladies ate their dinners, and still sleeping while they went to late morning mass the next day. The weekend was wasted, but duty called on Monday.
Heh, I said “duty”.
So ended my week away, and it was good. Two days of work quickly followed and somehow I was on a plane to Vegas, but that, my friends, is a different story. I must bid thee farewell because all these mentions and memories of sleep make me want.. yup, more sleep. Tune in Thursday or probably another day for more travel nonsense. I can’t be arsed to stick to a schedule, you know. Until the next time… POOF!
ps. I didn’t disappear in a cloud of smoke. You’d think hotel rooms would be fairly dust-free.
