I hope you'll forgive me, Faithful Reader, but I have been awash in a whirlwind of all that is good and proper in the universe, with a healthy dose of jet lag and some alcohol sprinkled on top. But, I am now sitting in the waning Montana evening (it's turning into dusk now that it's 9:20 pm) at my old kitchen table in my old kitchen chair drinking some red wine (from a newly-opened box) in one of my crystal glasses. Of course, the kitchen table and chairs are now on B's front porch (with a piece of plastic to stop the birds from pecking out the tiles), and she will have the same opportunity to break my crystal that I enjoyed for years, but it's still very comfortable.
So let me tell you about my return trip to the US.
This year, I got smart. Along my friend who has access to some serious reward points thanks to her friend who travels a LOT, I rented a hotel room at the Sheraton in Beijing. Now, the Sheraton in the US might be just another mid-range hotel, but internationally, it qualifies as a swank hotel (the same is true with many hotels). At 5pm I finally wrapped up all my moving-related tasks, and hot and sweaty from the nasty Beijing summer, I taxied over to the hotel.
The moment I arrived, my holiday had begun. A nice young man or two came running from the lobby to open my door. And take my luggage out of the trunk. And wheel my suitcases inside. And up to my room. And set them whoever I wanted in my swank suite (did I mention the reward points?). It was actual customer service. He spoke English — at least well enough to make small talk. The air was conditioned. It was lush.
Due to the unique construction of most Chinese bathrooms, I hadn't had a bath since my Spring Festival trip, so that was first on the agenda. But, it was also free food and drinks time up in the executive lounge. What to do... what to do.
Ah yes, quick bath first (with the bath salts I dug out of their secret hidey-hole next to the sewing kit). Then food. And wine. That another nice young man kept pouring for me, while I watched movies on my iPad and occasionally gazed down on the beautiful Angdingmen roundabout.
When I finished my movie (and had a nice buzz on: a nice, slow, relaxing, no one's going to push "one more" pint of crap beer on me buzz), I meandered back downstairs to my hotel room where I called up for some more bath salts... and took another, longer bath.
Courting danger, I brought my iPad with me to continue my movie watching. Fortunately for everyone involved, no iPads were harmed in the taking of the bath.
It wasn't long after that that my Well-Connected Friend arrived. She is also moving, but she is moving to a whole new city — a new province even. It was taking her longer. (Although her torment made me feel better about my accomplishments, slight though they were.)
In the morning, we shared a cab to the airport at 0-dark-hundred, except that it's not at all dark in Beijing at 5am, and then I was on my own.
The flight was largely uneventful, except that I couldn't wipe a shit-eating grin off of my face. I told anyone who would listen just how excited I was to be going home after eleven months. Most travelers are on business and are in town for a few days or maybe a few weeks. Maybe they have one bai jiou dinner. Maybe they go from hotel to work and back and never need to step foot in a public toilet. Maybe they have a driver and never cross the street. But me? Well, that grin is hard-earned and well-deserved.
And then we flew. And flew. And flew, flew, flew, flew. I had some wine. I took some Benadryl. Yadda yadda yadda, we landed in Seattle ahead of schedule.
I went through passport control — as giddy as a schoolgirl. I declared some tea at customs. I made it to my connector gate, and all was well. In my First Known Good Toilet Since Japan, I remembered that I had brought about eight cans of Pringles back with me, and those might count as food, but I hadn't declared them. I can't explain it, but I honestly forgot I had them or maybe that they were food. So, with a slight niggling apprehension that I might be chased down and accosted for forgetting the Pringles (How could you?! I don't know, I just did. Pringles aren't really food and they aren't really from China, I guess.), I went to the Alaska Brewery for my First Known Good IPA and Sausage. Hey! it was 9 pm for me.
And then I wandered back to my gate, and that's where it all went south.
My first hint was the announcement that the flight to Spokane was delayed because the plane couldn't land. What the? Oh, the fog had rolled in the course of an hour. The plane was circling the airport... And then it was diverted to someplace like Yakima. Ouch. All this while my flight is supposed to be boarding, which it isn't.
Of course, of all the half-hour commuter flights to Portland, mine was the plane that was not there and can't land. The flight was straight-up cancelled, and we have to see the ticket agent for a new flight.
I went from ecstatic to shattered in about a tenth of a second. I had been up since 4:30am my time, stayed awake for the four hours to get to my flight, dozed on my 12-hour flight, and hung around in the airport for another hour and a half. All this on top of a major move and some pretty tearful good-byes. I didn't know if I was coming or going, how long I had been alive (had I lost time in there? gained time?), or even what time it was.
The upshot is that I ended up being near the end of the re-booking line. Then, when the nice lady came over to relieve the line I was in, we all turned around and crossed the aisle, and instead of being four from the end, I was just at the end.
The guy ahead of me got on the 8:30 flight with a chance to goo stand-by on the one departing immediately. The lady ahead of me got a seat on the 8. Me? The person who really just needs to go to sleep? I got a seat on the 8:30. No stand-by. No 8:00.
I wanted to cry, but I was too tired.
But then I realized something. Sure, I was standing far away from the gate when the announcement was made, but I still got in line. Once in line, no one tried to shove past me. No elbows were thrown. No voices were raised. We stood in the queue. We were helped. I still made it Portland and was only an hour late.
Best of all, I knew exactly what was going on and I didn't have to call anyone for help.
- Do you really care this was posted using BlogPress from my iPad?
Location:Seattle, WA
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