::ATL, pt. 1: C30::
i had forgotten how much i hate atlanta.
*
thursday, 9:16 a.m.
it's off to a rough start.
first, i overslept. i must've turned my alarm clock off this morning because when i woke up on my own, the clock said 4:46.
not good news for a girl who has to leave by 5:10, and takes an hour to get ready.
but i pulled it off.
like a champ.
my boss's son drove us to the airport where we went our separate ways to catch our flights. this is where it gets really fun.
i checked in, and there was no gate listing for my flight anywhere. when i asked about it, they sent me to gate C30 (now known as the bane of my existence). unfortunately i was at concourse F, so i ran my ass all the way across o'hare to C where i was told i was at the wrong gate. i needed to be at F8.
great.
it wouldn't be such a big deal except at o'hare, C and F are like a fucking mile and a half away from eachother. on opposite sides of the airport. so once again, i carried my heels, and ran barefoot thru the airport dragging my suitcase behind me.
it was so "home alone" - except you know how kevin's family just barely made their flight? yeah, well. i didn't. at all. that plane left my ass in chicago.
THEN i lost my fucking license and boarding pass at a pay phone while leaving a message on my boss's cell phone. i, of course, being frazzled as all hell, didn't realize i'd left it anywhere until i went to get a new flight. at this point i completely forgot about having my stuff in my hand at the pay phone, so i thought i'd left it back at gate Cmotherfucking30.
so, once again, i ran to the other side of the airport, schlepping all my crap, to look for the two most important items you could possibly need in an airport.
after much back tracking on concourse C, it hit me that i had it at the pay phone on F, so again, ran my sweet ass back over there. of course, it was gone, but a security girl saw me looking around and asked if my name was sarah something or other. she said someone found my stuff, and they paged me to a gate, but she couldn't remember which one.
faaaaannnntastic.
so i went up and down the concourse, asking each gate, but no one had it. of course everyone was sure to tell me where it would be if someone found it, and all of these suggestions were opposite of one another. helpful.
so i ran all over creation, back to security when you first get into the airport, and finally i said fuck it. i've lost my shit, and i'm screwed. there's nothing i can do about it.
so i went back to my gate to wait for a u.s. airways rep (they only show up 45 minutes before the next flight). by this time my oh so put together business outfit was disheveled, my hair was a wreck, and i'm certain the black around my eyes was smudged giving the impression that i'd been in a fist fight (that doesn't happen until i'm actually in atlanta). finally a rep showed up, another airline found my stuff, and just as i was explaining what happened, the lady from the other airline brought it over.
so now i'm in the air.
CHICAGO!
and yes, i'm a big dork who takes pictures from airplanes. but i cannot help it.
the earth looks so much prettier from above.
like a map.
*
i have much more to tell, but i'll have to do it later.
right now i need to curl up with a blanket because i live in chicago, and we skip seasons. we jump straight from the unbearable heat of summer right into the motherf-in 30s.
there's no place like home.
