So I had a lovely, lovely weekend visiting with Kevin's family up in Seattle. It was fun, easy, and flawless. That doesn't make so much for an interesting story, though.
Enter last night.
I went to the airport in plenty of time to catch my 8:30 flight. Kevin had decided at the last minute to stay in Seattle for another day in hopes of another job interview, so it was just me flying home that night. After I checked my luggage, I realized I didn't have Kevin's credit card.
At Salt Lake's airport parking, instead of giving you a parking card, you just scan your credit card, and it measures when you started parking there. Then when you leave, you scan the card again: voila! you've paid for your parking stay.
But I didn't have Kevin's card, which we'd used when entering the parking lot. I frantically called Kevin, then the airport information people. They said it was a situation they could figure out by just going through the manned toll booth instead of the automatic one. Crisis averted! I called Kevin back, and he turned back around and headed home with his parents.
Now, going through airport security is usually a piece of cake (except for that time I packed my entire tool box-- hammers, exacto knives, extra saw blades, etc-- in my carry-on. But that's another story), but that night I had apparently left my brain somewhere else.
I got to the front of the line and couldn't find my ID. I had to step out of line and search through my bag for a few minutes before I found it. Then I forgot to take my shoes off. I tried to go through the scanner, but they needed to see my boarding pass and ID, which were now deep in the bowels of the x-ray machine. They had to back up mine and 3 other people's bags so I could root around and find my boarding pass. Then once I was done, the security guy got after me for not putting my laptop in a separate bin. At least I'd taken it out of the backpack! Whatever, I'm such a flake.
But that is nothing compared to the upcoming flakiness. I slept on the whole ride home, and as we were landing, I realized I didn't have my car key. Stunned silence. Kevin had driven to the airport, and I had given my keys to my friend to take care of our house and cats. Including my car key.
By this point, it was 11:30 PM, and my brain was completely useless. I was stuck at the airport in the middle of the night, with my car mere yards away from me. I couldn't get into it, and even if I could, there's no guarantee I'd be able to convince the toll gate people to charge me something reasonable. But I'd never actually have to worry about that, because I DIDN'T HAVE ANY CAR KEYS.
I called Alex, knowing he would be awake. 18 year old brothers don't need sleep, and he'd think it was an ADVENTURE to come rescue me from Salt Lake in the middle of the night. He didn't answer.
I called Sarah... but just to wish her Happy Birthday (it was 12:01, and I wasn't first! I couldn't believe it!). I'd already decided to take the shuttle. I was luckily able to catch the one at 12:30, which wasn't the cheapest option, but was the most reasonable.
So next time you travel, folks, don't be stupid.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Oh Chelsea! I love you. I had to read your post out loud so that Mike could enjoy it with me. We really did 'LOL". Now please let us know why you packed the ENTIRE tool box with you on your previous trip.
Um... the tool box story:
After I spent a semester in Nanjing, my family came over to tour around China a bit before heading home. I had a semester's worth of books, souvenirs, and random heavy crap from living there for 5 months. So when I packed my bags, they were over weight.
My dad gave us this marvelous idea called "pack all the heavy stuff in your carry ons," so we broke our backs but didn't have to pay the hefty baggage fines.
It was a snowy day-- Christmas Eve, if I remember correctly-- and it took us a ridiculous amount of time to find a taxi and then even longer to get to the airport. We got there and squeezed through security just in time to make our plane... almost.
Half of my family had run on ahead to make the flight, and I was stuck in security, where they'd found my stupid tool box. It was heavy. I put it in my carry-on!
I was really frantic, and the stress took its toll on my Chinese skills. I tried to tell them to just confiscate it and throw it away. I didn't want it. I just wanted to get on my plane!
But they took out my tools one by one and said, "You can't take this on an airplane. You can't take THIS on an airplane. Let's rescan your bag."
By the time they were done, the security table looked just like that picture of "what not to take on an airplane"-- minus the guns and explosives. But seriously, look at that picture. That's exactly what my bag contained.
Eventually they came to the conclusion that they would just keep my stuff (as if they'd just come up with it themselves-- I'd been telling them this for a frantic several minutes). Except for my measuring tape. And my bag. Which they rescanned--- again.
WOW. So glad you got home all right. And gosh, the tool box story was just as crazy!
Chelsea, it was Christmas DAY. That's why there were hardly any taxis, I guess.
AND... you forgot to tell them what the tool box actually was and looked like. :-)
Post a Comment