I LUV to Fly--And It Really Shows
And she's safe at home....
By no small miracle, let me assure you. Let me regale you quickly with a recap of my last day in Chicagoland before launching my vacation after-action review.
Sweat First, Shop Second
Despite my Saturday ending sometime around 1 AM on Sunday morning, I was up and at 'em a few hours around 4:45 as Miss Marie prepared to her butt crack-of-dawn flight back to Chez Marie. I'd entertained the idea of going back to bed once mes soeurs departed for O'Hare, but I knew better. I prefer to think of this as a blessing more so than a curse, but once I'm awake, I'm awake and can stay so until I can at last take my contacts out at the end of the day, whenever that is.
After some quality time reading on the elder sister's patio, which was slowly roasting in the Chicago sun, we headed off to another gym visit. I saddled up in a Spin bike alongside the elder sister for class--and realized quite quickly that I'm spoiled by the nicer (or at least more expensive) Spinners available at my local cathedral of sweat. Getting the "economy class" bike I'd selected for the class set up just right was ultimately not as successful as I'd thought it first was because I wound up feeling cramped up, which threw my upstroke off.
And you know what also threw off my upstroke? Forgetting to bring to the gym the damn Spin shoes I'd hauled all the way up to Chicago with me! Gads, I'm a blithering idiot....
But I'll say this about my trips to the elder sister's cathedrals of sweat: I don't feel so bad now about popping into HEB or Wally World after a sweat fest to pick up a few odds and ends since I think each time I went to the gym with her, we wound up doing some shopping afterwards, and I don't just mean "oops, we're out of this and need it for supper tonight" shopping.
And before you get all up in arms about being disgrossting in clothing stores, I didn't try anything on (but once, and I wound up buying those Nike pants, plus I hadn't sweat that much in the cardio kickboxing class beforehand and thus was all dried out and free of dried sweat when I did try them on), and walking the handful of blocks to those stores so close to the lake gave me ample opportunity to cool off and dry out. So there!
Anywho, after my final visit to the gym avec ma soeur, we walked over to a big Sur La Table in hops of finding the Chicago Metallic professional-grade deep-dish pizza pan I so wanted to bring home to the husband. No go there, but that was all right since we had one final shot: a giant Bloodbath & Beyond that was also within walking distance (although we drove since that place offers free parking). After a quick detour to Gap Kids to scope out some adorable Junk Food t-shirts, we popped into our destination, and....
At the last store on the last day, I finally found the pan. Halle-frickin'--lujah!
Of course, as I was waiting in line at BB&B, I was pondering the following:
- Have I ever been to a BB&B and not had to wait a short eternity in a register queue to pay?
- How the hell am I going to get this pan home?
Yeah, big, deep thoughts right there. But not all ponderings can be deep and big and paradigm-shattering. Plus that last big question leads me to my next topic.
I Have Shitty Travel Karma
Here's one of my after-action review takeaways from this trip:
From this day forward, I vow never to travel solo again. Traveling solo only invites traveling hassles for me.
Granted, I've only flown solo twice, but both times I had flight issues--delays, to be specific. My flight to Austin that was to leave Midway at 7:55 PM? We left the gate at 9:35 or thereabouts. My flight to Austin that was supposed to land around 10:30 PM? We landed just a few minutes past midnight.
I try to refrain from playing the blame game in situations like this because, well, shit happens. Cause-and-effect, domino effect situations arise often from circumstances that no mortal person can control. Add to those situations a good, healthy dose of systemic shortcomings, failures, trouble spots or whatever, and you've got yourself some misery is you're a traveler. When these situations arise, yelling at ticket agents, gate agents, customer service reps or your fellow passenger trapped in the airport alongside you does you and everyone around you no good. So once I got to my gate and learned my flight was seriously delayed, I challenged myself to just go with the flow.
And standing at a gate for two, three hours with a decent book wasn't such a bad experience. Not that I want to repeat it again. Ever. Thus my vow never to fly solo again.
As for getting all my goodies home, I wound up packing my travel bag with clean and dirty clothes, the idli cooker, the Frango mints for the husband and the World's Greatest Spin Instructor and the Cubs cookies for the boy along with the dozen comics and (originally) Comic Con-exclusive Ralph McQuarrie concept Obi-Wan and Yoda two-pack I got at a fun-but-creepy shop in Lincoln Square Sunday afternoon. That bag I checked because, at the time I arrived at Midway, I didn't figure waiting just a few minutes to retrieve a checked bag would be that big a deal since I'd be getting in to Austin around 10:30 and would still have a shot at a decent night's sleep.
Yep, that shitty traveler's karma had me fooled, didn't it?
My carry-on was a Macy's bag containing the enameled cast iron Dutch oven (the inside of which was stuffed with the dresses I'd worn, while the open space in its box held other treasures I'd acquired) and the pizza pan, inside of which was nestled a Trader Joe's reusable bag filled with Indian yummies and leftover Pizzeria Due deep-dish sausage pizza for the boys (for breakfast come Monday morning, although as my karma would have it, they could have had it as a late-night just-back-from-the-airport, bedtime snack). Believe it or not, that bag went through TSA screening just fine.
Speaking of TSA screening, I have to give mad props to the TSA and other security folks at Midway. The times I've flown through, both solo and avec ma famille, the staff has been responsive, quick and pleasant. I'm sure, Gentle Reader, there are 10 or 20 or 100 travelers out there who would not say the same for every one traveler like me, but, hey, that's my experience. So, to the TSA and security staff at Chicago-Midway, merci buckets!
(As for the TSA and other security staff at Houston's Hobby Airport, you could learn a thing or two from the Midway folks. I'm sure there are many travelers who've been cursed to tread the halls and unnecessary rescreening checkpoints while traveling to a connecting flight at this wretched place who would agree with me.)
Now here is something that you don't get to experience every trip: taking off to fireworks. Yep, as we were lifting off, I glanced out my window and noticed a very nice fireworks display not too far from Midway. It was quite the sight to behold while hurtling down the runway and then angling into the darkened skies. I've grown much too jaded for ground-level fireworks displays, but seeing one from above was a fascinating, fresh take on the fireworks-viewing experience.
Unlike at Midway, the baggage handlers at Austin got the stuff off the plane and onto the claims carousel in good time, and soon enough I had my 80 pounds or so of luggage in hand and was waiting on the curb for the car. We arrived home just before 1 AM, and although I could have held off on unpacking and presenting the husband with his goodies, I couldn't. So it's my own fault that I didn't get to bed until 1:40 or later.
And, yes, I was up at 5:30. For once, though, I let the husband take his shower first. But it wasn't like I rolled over and went back to sleep.
By the way, leftover Pizzeria Due deep-dish makes for a great breakfast.
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