Nomad's Pub

Holy Airports. No, Holidays & Portairs. Er, Airports...

Greetings from the freezing climes of Slovakia!
This holiday traveller has made it safely home and now suffers the wrath of time being jumped. Jetlag really can be vicious...

But to say that is also to rejoice: exams are over, papers are completed, and life has moved on from death by school to death by gluttony on homemade, good food...

Or not.

But I have a travell tale for you...

Friday afternoon saw me sleeping soundly in a van travelling to Rochester, NY, safe in the knowledge of good rest soon coming and (most) work behind. After completing a paper late at night, it was deemed wise to double check my airplane reservations.

The plan: to fly out of Rochester at 3:00pm.

Upon looking online, however, what did we find but that there was a "change."

The new plan: fly out of Rochester at 12:15pm.

Of course, this change was followed by the sending of the e-ticket receipt, scheduled for nothing else but 3:00pm.

So, to fly or not to fly, that was the question.

Having no means of direct contact with my family--no phonecard, no long distance calling ability, and no Skype--I contacted one of my dear state-side sisters and she called home for me, waking up my dad from his deep, saturday morning slumbers.

About 45 minutes later, he called me--having first had to travell to his office where my flight information was filed away. Thus, he, still sleepy from the night, and I, very sleepy from two nights of no sleep, determined that my flying time was for certain the 12:15pm.

As I was staying only about 15 minutes from the airport, Bennet and I debated: might we just jump over to the airport an hour early instead of two, being so close? In the end, we decided that the holidays may have brought in many people, so better to have enough time...

Well, thank heavens for that!!!

We arrived at the airport, unloaded my bags, and said farewell at the curb. I waited (and waited) in line... checked in my baggage, but... Where in the past they used to take you baggage directly, they now send you to another line where you wait (and wait) and THEN they take your baggage.

Do they send it back immediately?

Noooo. No, they don't!

Instead, after asking if you have any dangerous items, any items which may hurt their hands, and any illicit items, they then take your baggage from you and proceed to open it. Right there in the middle of the open (to everyone) part of the airport, they unpack your bags item by item, piling the contents on a counter visible to the world while they scan with funky machings your suitcases and your possessions.

I was rather shocked at this invasion, not having experienced it before. Removing the shoes... opening carry-on baggage... being bodily checked upon beeping... all that, ok, fine, no problem. But this? Right there in the open?

I was not mentally prepared.

Nevertheless, I remained cool, calm; collected.

:P

And i thought, "Oh, how nice that they set time deadlines for themselves to be done by" when I heard the woman who took my bag call out "this one for 11:10(am)!"

Silly me...

Through security I went
(do you have a little bag for my perfume? I ask)
(what, you mean to tell me you don't have a little bag? not one little bag? the security man asks)
(um, no. not one, I answer. I don't say it's because i don't think in terms of ziplocs from growing up without them)
(uh huh. not one? he repeats, raising his brow)
(no, not one! I say. I'm a college student. why would I buy one!? i ask, thinking of the cost)
(now i know you're lying! the man exclaims. then he grins. Just ask when you get to the scanners.)
(thanks. happy Christmas.)
(you too.)

and then through the scanners I went. (I got the bag without the problem. but they did not like my sweater. or my scarf. or my hat.--"don't worry, miss. your hair looks fine" the one man at the walk-through assured me)

And at last, there I was, in the real part of the airport. With over an hour ahead of me: how lovely. Perhaps a drink? Or a bite to eat? Or there, that bench looks comfy enough for a nap...

I followed the signs towards the Delta wing, thinking I would stop somewhere along the way. Evenutally, I decided to check just which gate was mine, after all... just so i could find it easily at the end.

Good thing, too!

Was my flight scheduled for 3:00pm?

No...

So was my flight scheduled for 12:15pm?

NO!!!

Horror of horrors... that little "deadline" I had remarked on--that was my flight's departure time!

I checked, double checked, and triple checked the flight number, and sure enough--that was my flight leaving two gates down IN TEN MINUTES TIME!!!

AAAAAAaHHHHHH!

I made it, of course, and sat in my seat marvelling at the insanity of it all before falling promptly asleep.
.
.
.
.
And then there was Atlanta.

I now had oh, about 5 hours before my next departure... and hungry and bored and quite exhausted, I sought refuge in a bookstore.

Atlanta is not, by the way, anything like Heathrow, or such airports with comfortable cafes to relax in... You can sit at your gate, or maybe for a few minutes in a noisy, crammed restaurant that you pay a college tuition for, practically.

This bookstore had some rather interesting options... Mere Christianity next to Harry Potter and all that... Lots of Nora Roberts and plenty of best sellers... but for a weary mind, what?

I looked through all the shelves. Every single one. I was debating at the last between which I would prefer more to read at that moment in time of mood and state of mind... a Gresham action or a wrenching Jodi Picoult... when lo and behold...

the final bookshelf.

Classics.

Definitely not interested in reading For Whom the Bell Tolls or Jane Eyre... but there among them--Breakfast at Tiffany's!

I know the movie--an Audrey Hepburn film and j'adore elle--but I never knew the film was based upon a novella! And to add wonder to wonder, only the night before, falling asleep in Rochester, Bennet and I spoke in the darkness of the film, and while we do find it a classic... we fail to understand it.

I bought it and consumed it well before take-off hours later.

(I do highly recommend it, too... with reservations.)

It was a long, far to sleepless flight in the company of Mr. Bean on an aisle-located tv screen and...interesting...food. But then Vienna and Wilkomen and my bag tripping past me on the convery as I trudged into baggage claim so that I had to run... and my family, waiting out the swinging doors for me with smiles and a beautiful red rose.

What more could I wish for?

Granted... my suitcase (and ALL its contents) were soaked through from apparently having sat in the downpour in Atlanta... and my jetlag is terrible this time around... and I really just want to sleep right now.... But...

It is good to be with my crazy youngest siblings roaming the city, buying out the stores, eating at Pizza Hut, struggling to reaqquire leverage in Slovak, playing piano and singing with my brother at his cello and my sister harmonizing vocals, sitting before the fire with my dad and having soup and chocolate (hot) with my mum.

And a few days time will hail the arrival of the rest of my family!

Yes indeed. Happy Holidays All!!

posted by Lada @ 2:57 PM