Tom: My Very Long Weekend

My Very Long Weekend · Feb 20, 10:51 PM

I went down to Austin this weekend because a group was bringing Mike Sigman out for an internal strength seminar. It was an adventure. I’m tentatively glad I went.

GETTING THERE

Thursday morning, I’m sitting in my terminal at the T.F. Green Airport, on the phone with L. She’s back in the lab and I’m working her through the final steps of a task I would be doing myself, except that I’m not at work today, I’m flying to Austin. Via Chicago.

Thursday, February 16
Flight 816 Q
Depart PROVIDENCE RI (PVD) at 10:05AM
Arrive in CHICAGO-MIDWAY (MDW) at 11:45AM

Our flight gets in the air on time, and we approach “the windy city” in clouds. Then a voice from the cockpit announces, “folks, air traffic control has put us in a holding pattern, we expect to be down a few minutes late.” And they always address the passengers as “folks.” In a few minutes, he’s relaying new information, we’re being diverted to Indianapolis International Airport. Thanks, mister god of lightning and “wintry mix” precipitation.

But we don’t make it—well, we could have, but at Louisville International Airport there’s an open terminal, so passengers can disembark to engorge their bowels or evacuate them in the comfort of a modern, full-service terminal. So that’s where we go, and after a terrifying buffetting we’re on the ground. We’re on the ground twenty minutes before they let us out. That’s bad; Chicago isn’t giving us a landing time.

We’re happy in that disgruntled, unhappy fashion when we’re called back. I say we, but I never left the plane; I’m working the Chinese flashcards and reading through the books I took in place of my notebook. So it’s back into the air, and a short while later we are in Chicago. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon, and my connection, though also delayed, has left me stranded in the Chicago Midway International Airport.

Flight 1830 Q
Depart CHICAGO-MIDWAY (MDW) at 1:45PM
Arrive in AUSTIN TX (AUS) at 4:35PM

I’m fsckxrod. Tommorrow is Friday and Monday is a holiday, and there’s no flight that’s not full if not oversold. The airport is seething with stranded masses clogging the standby lists and settling in for the long overnight layover. Screw you, airport; I’m calling Greyhound. There’s a bus that leaves in 3 hours and 23 hours after that makes a stop in Austin. With the refund of the rest of my flight, I can buy the ticket and even meals for the 23 hours of semi-waking long-haul nightmare. Adam, at whose place I had been stranded last sunday, invites me back, with strong words spoken against the Greyhound option.

I make more calls. I wander, adrenalized, around the airport. The seminar starts on Saturday, so I’m not yet the drowning, ferocious rat. I—and if you haven’t been there you won’t know how cool this is—get a seat on a flight to the San Antonio International Airport, via Houston. Thank you, mister handsome and flirtiatious, Southwest rep. who works-well-with-people in high-stress-environments. Next time, I’m buying the first round. Next time turns out to be tomorrow, and he’s on duty—no drinking.

Flight 897
Depart CHICAGO-MIDWAY (MDW) at 4:35PM
Arrive in HOUSTON-HOBBY TX (HOU) at 7:15PM

That miracle having been settled, I take the train out to Elgin and spend an evening with Adam and the Olympics. We’re up early the next day, and he drops me off at the airport after a lunch-meeting and before a promotion to Sales Route Manager.

Back at the airport, there’s people still bouncing standby-lists sullen and pleading for special treatment or crying with anger on the phone. I’m well-slept and refreshed. The flight goes out just fine, except for the part where it’s over-sold and my chest tightens up for the ten minutes it takes to resolve the situation.

Our wheels impact on the runway at the William P. Hobby Airport, and I turn on my phone. Over the din of people pulling down their overhead bags and saying goodbye to their new friends and all the drunk black people—including the wasted football thug who had to be kicked out of the exit row and seated next to two hot young girls, putting me in his old seat—over that din, I’m talking to a Southwest rep.. She says theirs space on a flight to Austin. Now I’m up with the crowd, pulling down my carry-on and heading into the terminal. [ ed—Like I’m ever going to check bags again. ]

Flight 1062
Depart HOUSTON-HOBBY TX (HOU) at 8:45PM
Arrive in AUSTIN TX (AUS) at 9:30PM

Just as soon as I’ve had a new boarding pass printed—well, not quite that soon, but just as soon as 897 to SAT pulls away from the terminal—just then I find out that my next leg is still on the ground in Oklahoma: lightning and ice. I’m happy to be in Texas, but at this point the only backup is a three-hour rented-car drive to the capitol of the lone star state. The flight gets here, and we board an hour late. Hey—it’s better than I got in Midway. And I won’t have to arrange for a late-night bus ride from San Antonio. It’s not worth mentioning, but 1062 was almost cancelled due to icy rain in Austin. Did I not kill enough young bulls and burn their blood before I left?

THE SEMINAR WEEKEND

On Friday, Austin is as cold as Newport was when I left. It’s also rainy. I check into the hostel after taking a quick shuttle and pass out, setting my alarm to vibrate me awake at quarter to eight [aside—I saw more handsome men at that airport in Austin than I’ve seen gathered in one place outside of Manhattan]. I take breakfast with three other guys going to the seminar—Jesse, John, and Anthony—at the institutional Curby Lane and put migas into my stomach first time. Think nacho scrambled eggs.

[ I’ve pulled the seminar description into a new post —ed. ]

On Sunday night I went back to the hostel after a couple hours at John’s place. Since Friday evening I have been nursing a sore throat, so I chose to stay in and finish The Plague. It’s a depressing read when you identify most with the tragicly-dies-near-the-end character. But I started up a conversation with this strange Ubie. He was making music with a small MIDI keyboard and laptop, so of course I strike up a conversation. It’s 2 AM before the conversation ends. This Ubie fellow reminds me of Evan from Manhattan. It’s been real.

A SMOOTH RETURN

Two hours later I wake up for the airport shuttle. I have to stand in line for my board pass, and again for security, but I arrive at teh terminal early enough for airport breakfast tacos. They were called tacos, but they were wrapped like burritos. Stupid tourists.

Flight 2233
Depart AUSTIN TX (AUS) at 7:20AM
Arrive in CHICAGO (MDW) at 9:45AM

Flight 2100
Depart CHICAGO-MIDWAY (MDW) at 12:20AM
Arrive in PROVIDENCE RI (PVD) at 3:10PM

The flights all take off and land promptly, servicing the passengers efficiently. In Chicago, I eat two delicious barbeque pork steamed dumplings. On the two legs back I get through all of my Chinese flashcards. Two friends from Newport pick me up, I pick up dinner at the Coddington Brewery, and then mindlessly shuffle about my flat and catch up on Lost.

I then slept for ten hours.

* * *

Yes.
Too long.

Buddha walks into a hamburger store.
The man behind the counter asks…
�? What would you like Buddha?�?
The Buddha replies thoughtfully and with love,
�? Make me one with everything…�?
— Ferdbirfel Feb 22, 02:49 PM #
Too long for a weekend, too.
— Tom Feb 22, 06:55 PM #
The case of Tom and the mixed up airports. Your post read like the script to a video we watched in marketing last week that excoriated Southwest for having terrible service. It was full of drunk patrons rampaging because they’d missed their flight in the bar and whatnot.
— Chris Feb 23, 10:18 AM #

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