The Ultimate Airport Story

This weekend was my brother-in-law’s graduation.

Granted, it was on Friday and I was working the last shift of Open Enrollment at work.  Well, I would not have been had I been able to get off work to fly with my husband to Austin to see my brother-in-law’s graduation, but I was oh-so-critical to the operations of the HR department the Friday before Memorial Day. (READ: Maybe 10 people showed up in our office needing help.  Not one of which had questions that only I could answer.)  But I’ll save a post about describing my frustrations with my boss for another day.

My in-laws graciously decided to fly me down the next morning to spend time with them and enjoy a weekend away.  Especially since my husband, and only friend in town, would be away from me the weekend of my father’s death.  They were considerate and were willing to book me on a more expensive flight that would get me in to Austin around 1PM.  Since they were going out of their way to buy me a flight so I wouldn’t be stuck in our apartment with our cat who ignores me half the time, I volunteered to take the flight at much earlier time.  A 6:40am earlier time.

I did the math.  I needed to leave at 5:40 am to make my 6:40 am flight.

I know what you’re thinking.  She must live right across the street from the airport.  Although an airport is right across the street from my apartment, it is not the one I was flying out of.  I was flying an airport an hour away.  That’s right, I was planning on arriving the same time my flight was leaving.  Do you believe I got an A in College Algebra and Quantitative Business Analysis?

I had traveled about 7 miles and I noticed it was about 5:50 am.  It hit me.  My flight was leaving in 50 minutes and I still had about 45 miles left to drive.  My nice steady pace of 73-75 mph rose to 95-100 mph.  I know.  I am incredibly lucky that a cop didn’t witness my little red Echo taking flight down 67. 

At 6:19am, I miraculously made it to the Little Rock National Airport.  Then it became trickier.  I had to find a parking space.  It’s the Saturday before Memorial Day, my car was parked in Section U.  Out of Sections A-Z.  My car was literally about 10 yards from the exit.  Some poor parking shuttle driver took pity on the almost-crying, jogging girl and picked me up.  So, he took a 15 minute walk into a 3 minute car ride.  I booked it to the check-in.  My bag got checked in.  I jumped up to a kiosk and someone said I was cutting.  I backed off and started on another one.  The comment was too stupid to even dignify.  The Southwest rep told me I was lucky and my flight looked like it might be delayed, to drop off my bag at TSA and try to get through security.

My next obstacle was security.  I had my bag of 3oz liquids out and ready to go.  The line started on the ground floor close to baggage claim.  Granted, this is a tiny airport.  But the line was longer than I ever dreamed possible. 

At 6:38 am, I broke down and called Sean to let him know what happened.  It’s one of those things that you don’t want to tell someone until the last possible moment.  I hadn’t gotten within 30 feet of going through the metal detectors, and it was 2 minutes until our flight was going to take off.  He tells me what gate to sprint to once I make it through the ungodly line and lets me know that my flight shouldn’t take off for another 20 minutes. 

After another 10 minutes, I make it to the point where I can put my things through the x-ray machine, and a pilot showed up.  He cut in front of me to go through security.  He asked if I minded.  I told him I’m about to miss my flight.  Wearing his Northwest Airlines shirt he told me he’d get me there on time.  I told him I was flying Southwest to Austin.  He said oh.  And cut in front of me.  Just because you can flying an effing airplane doesn’t mean you have the right to make me late.  Douchebag.

By then I book it.  The end of that itty bitty terminal never looked so far away.  By now it was 6:52am, and it would be a true miracle if they hadn’t shut the doors and retracted the bridgeway.  I get to gate ten and ask what flight it was.  They said my flight number.  I almost cried.  They hadn’t even boarded yet.  I call my husband and tell him I’ll be in Austin in a few hours. 

The reason why I made it:

The night before, the plan flew through a flock of birds.  One bird sacrificed his life and got stuck in the engine.  They spent the morning at our gate cleaning the remenants out of the engine.  They warned us it might smell like burnt dinner or cooked chicken.  I was just thankful my butt made it on that plane.

Thought for today….

“I don’t know how to live in a world where my Dad isn’t.”

–George O’Malley

When it rains, it poors….

Posted May 15, 2007 

May has become a bad month for me.

It wasn’t always. Growing up, it was finally sunny again and not too hot. We spent more days outside playing and summer was always right around the corner which meant I got to spend my days with my mom when she was out of school as well. And there is still one exception: May 24. Only because that’s my best friends birthday, so that day’s okay.

There are some obvious things that cause May to be a bad month.

One year ago come May 25, is the anniversary of my dad’s death. That is what it is and brings up all kinds of bad emotions because of that. But this May 25 will be especially bad. This will mark the first night Sean and I will spend apart since we were married. So not only am I going to feel weird with Sean not coming home, but I will already be an emotional wreck due to no longer having a father.

You want to hear the kicker? It’s my first Open Enrollment. Ack. I’m already pretty bad when it comes to enrolling people in their benefits. But I’m going to be responsible for approximately 25% of the employees here. Well, maybe closer to 20%. But still! And my final shift? 5-10pm on May 25. I’m beginning to think that it must be Satan’s birthday by the amount of crappy things that culminate on that day.

But, it will give my 11 hours of overtime. That’s not so bad.

On top of everything, Jenel is leaving me tomorrow. That’s one of the most bizarre things to me. Jenel’s been around all the time with the exception of perhaps the year I started college at Harding. But we talked all the time on IM and the occasional phone call, so it was not like we had completely lost contact. And I know we won’t lose contact now. But it’s not the same just calling up and being like, “hey, let’s take a walk,” or “hey, I need to talk with someone now.” And phone calls work, but it’s not the same.

And although Sean and I have talked about moving to Virginia for years, there’s not one anywhere near where she’ll be. So, we have no idea where we’re moving (not that we know when we’ll move…), but I know it can’t be anywhere close to her. Not anytime soon at least.

So another tragedy in my life happens in May.

I think May brought showers, not flowers.

A New Page

I’ve always loved writing in journals.

More often than not, I’d find a beautiful journal and I’d look at it and want to fill every page with my thoughts, feelings, words of wisdom, my legacy.  I always thought that one day my daughters would find it and think, “Wow.  Our mother went through a LOT of what I’m going through.  I had no idea.”  The problem is, all of my journals are scattered around with about half or more left blank.  They are in varying degrees of emotional states and maturity.  To be honest, I miss being able to spill my words out on a page in my own handwriting knowing that only snopers and future generations might see it.

But I’m bad with blogs a lot.

The beauty of blogs is that you get immediate feedback from the people you choose to share it with.  You crave the comments and the thoughts of other people, if they feel the same, if they’re on your side, if they can show you a different perspective.  Eventually, you grow and change, away from those you originally chose to share it with.  Or, you grow and change, and you no longer feel the desire to share your thoughts, feelings, and memories with people who get to know you through your blog, an image, quite frankly that can be altered and shifted due to how you craft your words.

There was one diary I had finished.  It was my freshman year of high school diary.  I think everyone has that one year in school that complete redefines you and changes who you are forever.  That was my year.  I learned what it was like to lose friends that I didn’t want to, and that it’s okay to be selective about my friends (the latter lesson I learned a little later than I wish I had).  I learned that there were boys who found me attractive, and not just the gay ones either.  I learned that I shouldn’t be afraid of what other people think of your faith, only focus on what you believe and what you need to do with that knowledge.  I learned that there were good fathers who loved their children and showed that love to me too.  I learned that you shouldn’t take your parents willing to do anything for you forgranted, and because of that I’ll always remember the plate of cheese and crackers in the basement.  I learned that sometimes it really is better to just remain friends even if you can’t help developing a crush on the cute Hawaiin musician, because sometimes, even if he had liked you, you would’ve been a terrible couple.  I learned to not take yourself too seriously, but only to guard your heart seriously.

That diary was my life line.  It wasn’t until after I had finished writing in that diary that I really had people who I could tell everything to.  I was really depressed for a big portion of that school year.  That was my release.  I am so thankful for that journal that was filled with pages of my emotions and memories.

Last year was another year that completely changed me as a person.  My life was an emotional roller coaster.

In 2006 I learned what it was like to really become an adult.  I learned that your college degree is important, but sometimes it’s not as important as who you know.  I learned what it was like to fail at something and not learn how to make it right.  I learned what it was like to feel so completely in love that another person was the only person you thought about.  I learned what it was like to completely lean on someone who wasn’t my mom, and that it was okay.  I learned that a child can feel no greater loss than losing a parent that you hadn’t mended bridges with and now will never get the chance.  I learned what it was like living paycheck to paycheck.  I learned that your wedding day really is the happiest day of your life.  I learned that giving your heart to another person completely is the most freedom you will ever feel.

But I didn’t need a journal.  I had my fiance/husband.  I had my best friend.  I had my mom.  I had my roommates.  I had my club sisters.  I had my choir friends.  There wasn’t a secret in my life that someone didn’t know.

This blog was created not because of that.  This was created because I love looking back.  I love seeing how I grow.  I look back on that freshman year, and I realize how small my world view was and yet how I could barely handle it.  Looking back makes me realize I can move forward and not be afraid.

This blog is for me.  Those I share it with are welcome to comment and ask questions.  But it’s not about you.  It’s about learning and growing and raw emotion.  It’s about my life and what I can learn from it.