Not So Friendly Skies

First off, Chris, the fact that you called me at 3:15AM, 3:30AM and 5:21AM and had not met Britney Spears on YOUR way to rehab, pisses me off! 3 hours of sleep to move across the country, not nearly enough. I have managed to pretty much stay numb for the last 2 weeks on my move and I am relishing the fact that I ran into so many assholes on the way out to St. Louis or I would have been a quivering mess in the "waiting area" at Bellingham airport -- too small to be called a terminal. After asking me how many bags I was checking, the not so pleasant ticket agent told me I'd have to pay $25 for the 8 pounds my suitcase was over weight. 8 pounds, which is $3.125 a pound. That is a little excessive don't you think? I was offered the option of moving stuff into my other checked bag. One look at the zipper pulling at the sides, let me know that wasn't an option. Too tired to make a fuss, I simply handed her the credit card. While already paying more money to the airline, I tried to purchase an upgrade. I wanted the comfort and PEACE of first class. She told me I'd have to do that in Seattle. F-i-n-e! So far the flight was early enough that I didn't see anyone under 3 feet tall lurking about. Now security. I was feeling like this would be my easiest trip through security in years. Checked baggage meant beauty products were safely tucked in my suitcase, 3 ounces or less be damned! Try again, apparently a bottle of hand lotion and 2 lip glosses hiding in the bottom my purse pissed off the security Nazis. The fact that I didn't have a plastic, zip-lock baggie pissed me off because I threw $40 worth of crap in the garbage. This is when the angry was secured and any impending tears avoided.

The bitch that was named Cathy is what awaited me at SEATAC. First off all, when I ask top purchase a first class upgrade, telling me none are available could have saved us both a freakin' headache. Sans the obvious explanation, I call my mom to get on-line to see if she can do this seemingly easy task. Nope, no easy button here. Toll free number? Finally, a pleasant human on the other end of the phone told me first class was sold out. Was that difficult? Did the lady working at the gate not have this information.

Had the first class fiasco been my last interaction with Cathy I might not be so bitter. However, looking at the seat next to me I realized the man that was sitting there charging his laptop, left with the cord but not the laptop. Like a good citizen that didn't take note of what the non-descript man sitting next to her looked like, I politely walk over to Cathy and tell her that someone left there laptop sitting on the bench. I have seen this type of disclosure of an empty plastic bag in an airport lead to 7 burly security guards running and diving on an empty bag. The electronic equipment merely had Cathy snipe at me, not my problem if someone steals it. Ah, O.K. Good thing my lip gloss was too dangerous to make it into the gate but an abandoned laptop is not her problem.

Back to why I wanted first class to begin with...kids. Don't get me wrong, I like kids but my experience tells me that a plane and kids mix like water and electricity. I get on the plane and realize I have a bulk head, window seat and let out a sigh of relieve that I may get some rest. I should know better! Let's just say I found out on the Seattle to St. Louis plane ride the child constantly slapping the tray up and down against the seat is worse than one continually kicking the seat.

Stay tuned for the next installment for the fun that has been the car rental and hotel stay...

The Benefit of Assholes

IHOP breakfast: $12.44
Check-in suitcase that is 8 pounds over weight: $25.00
Latte at SeaTac: $4.56
Running into assholes all the way to St. Louis to keep me from balling like a baby: PRICELESS

Madness -- The Beginning or is it The End

The move update and so begins the life of the blog. Jenn has set the bar pretty high. I'll start with the disclaimer that my spelling sucks and I did everything I could to avoid English classes in college. So if the comments you want to leave having anything to do with my grammar or spelling, see my complaints’ department. If you don't know where to find my complaints’ department, please ask, I'll tell ya!

I am on pins and needles with feelings of being obsessively anxious, neurotic, frantic, excited, in a frenzy and then rinsing and repeating when the second hand changes. If I had more money, by now my mom would have me in a 51-50 lockdown next to Britney and filing to be conservator of my estate. Correction...if I had any money!

During one of my epiphanies I surmised I had my move all figured out -- short stay in a hotel and move into an apartment in Central West End of St. Louis. During my next trip into lunacy I figured I'd never get everything together -- and how do I ship my car and where do I put my cats and how do I move my belongings and what in my apartment can I throw away and oh my how was I thinking I could pull this off?

Ok, which friend gets to talk me off the ledge this time? Dial cell phone and hope for the right words on the other end. I guess to get the words I need to hear, I have to be able to explain my current crisis in words and not tears. This drill has become familiar and after a few brief overwhelming minutes, I am again dancing on the ledge and feeling as if I know what I am doing.

I am currently having a glimpse of sanity, sans the drama and tears in this current posting. I am sure the roller coaster is only at a temporary stop to load more passengers. We pause for a moment to thank my sponsors, those who keep sitting in the front car of the roller coaster, even though the bar doesn't look like it locks into place anymore....and now back to my irregularly scheduled meltdown.

So as of today here is where we stand...my last day at Olympic/Sterling on 2/15. I leave Bellingham on 2/16 and start work in St. Louis on 2/18! I will be staying in a hotel until the 27th and flying back to Bellingham to get thy affairs in order and back to St. Louis on 3/1. Where I am staying when I go back is still up in the air. I am thinking 2 more weeks in a hotel while I prowl the city for a place to live and wait for my car to be delivered.

Note: This has been edited to prevent shock and horror in anyone who is not a truck driver or had more than a two minute conversation with my mother.