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.

I’M POOPIN…. False alarm.

I’m not crying anymore.

God’s given me peace that I made the right decision. Granted, I still want to leave my job. And now it’s even worse because I had that out, it just wasn’t the right out. Didn’t stop me from applying from one of our biggest competitors. It’d matter more if I was one of those positions they’re trying to steal away. But there was something just a little satisfying about that.

I found the best thing in the world to make me smile.

Right here.

No joke. Everytime I look at it, I can’t help but belly laugh. It’s so utterly ridiculous. There. I was just thinking about it and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Labels of all things funny will now be labeled “I’M POOPIN.”

That’s all.