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A Life in Plastic Baggies

~ Travel adventure & absurdity

A Life in Plastic Baggies

Tag Archives: what rock did you come from under?

Catch-up Vignettes II

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Boarding Blunders

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Oy, what rock did you come from under?

I’ve traveled quite a bit in the past couple of months but I’m behind on posting…luckily no disasters to report. Here are some highlights from September/October travel. Two trips coming up in November (including one over Thanksgiving with a baby)–get excited!

Nashville Broadway

My first trip to Nashville was fabulous – will absolutely be back

Recap 1: BNA // MSP

On the heels of my last trip, I was off to Nashville for a Junior League conference. After three intense days, my friend and League President Elect, Jen, and I were headed home on one of the earliest flights available Sunday morning. The weather was perfect, the skies were clear…and two flights were canceled. Luckily, neither was ours. Unluckily, all the cranky and panicked passengers trying to rebook kept coming to our check-in counter trying to get our flight rep to help them (rather than stand in the long line they were supposed to be in)…and she kept giving in.

Despite her repeated pleadings over the PA system that she needed to board our flight before she could help others, they just kept piling up…and she kept helping them. It was infuriating when it was five minutes before we were supposed to depart and she was still elbows-deep in the rebooking system. It was pretty funny, however, to watch all the passive-aggressive Minnesotans quietly queue up and then loudly sigh and stare at the hapless desk agent (self included).

SFO take-off

Taking off from SFO

Recap 2: MSP // SFO

Mid-October I went to San Francisco for one of the largest conferences I’ve ever attended. With over 140k in attendees, it is the stuff of my agoraphobic nightmares. The entire city is overrun and you’ll wish you had a BA in Logistics and Crisis Management. Or some really good anxiety meds.

With a lot riding on my attendance from an execution standpoint (the meticulously crafted Master Details binder wasn’t going to get there on its own, you know?), I needed the flight schedule to run flawlessly. Happily, my flight out was exactly on time…and filled with everyone from Minneapolis going to the conference.

If there’s one thing I get sick of hearing when I get on a plane, it’s “I’m so glad you’re sitting next to me!” This comment is not as lascivious as it sounds; rather, it’s almost always said by very large men who are thrilled I (presumably) won’t be using all of my seat…or any of my arm rest. It was a long flight out.

Home again, I’m here for another couple of weeks before it’s back to California and then out east for Thanksgiving. Stay tuned!

King of the World

22 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Mingling with the Masses

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hall monitoring, Oy, what rock did you come from under?

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ORD / ORD-MSP

I’ve referenced it in previous posts, but it never ceases to amaze me how every air traveler seems to think he is the first, last, and only person to ever fly. The sense of entitlement, selfishness, and poorly mannered meltdowns should probably not even phase me at this point, yet I cannot help to be surprised and baffled by it. Behold the wonders of my quick trip last week:

  1. Right off the bat I was cutoff by a guy for the scanner at security. Frankly, I expect better from the Pre Check lane but I was proven wrong. With two lanes merging, I was about to get behind the woman from the opposite line when an enormous man stepped right in front of me. He knew he cut me off and didn’t make eye contact as he literally threw his weight around to get one body length ahead of me. When he was randomly chosen for a pat-down five seconds later, I gave him the biggest, sweetest smile and told him to have a nice day.
  2. At the Surdyk’s check-out, the woman in front of me loudly demanded to know if the crackers in her snack box were gluten free. Now, the box actually said the crackers were indeed gluten free (as pointed out to her by the cashier), but she “just wanted to check”. Then, “just to be sure”, she made the cashier re-pack the box anyway. She turned to me and said, “Sorry, I just really can’t tolerate gluten, you know?” “No, I’m pro-gluten,” I replied.
  3. At the gate, there was the typical salesman wrapping up a deal as we waited to board. These guys absolutely kill me. While I usually assume they’re faking a call to sound important, the gentleman I had the pleasure of over-hearing actually seemed to have real business…and a preoccupation with someone named Julie:

“Hey, bro–” (yes, he called his colleague ‘bro’. I’d like to paint the picture that this is a combed-over, short/stout 50-something man talking into a BlueTooth that he’s cupping around his ear and toward his mouth) “–so just make sure you copy Julie…”

“…”

“Yeah, so get that done, add the 10% discount and then send a note to Julie and copy me.”

“…”

“So send it to me and Julie and then we’ll get it done. Yeah, bro…”

Seriously, shoot me.

4. My favorite implosion of manners came at O’Hare on Friday morning, where I watched an epic meltdown between a middle-aged man and a barista. I was at a tea place (where, incidentally, I ate the worst muffin of my life) when I heard loud cursing as a cup fell from the barista ledge onto the floor. And then this exchange ensued:

Man: @#*&$ @#$&! And now I’ve scalded my hand! Can I get some ice for my hand?!

[Scrambling, ice handed over, someone comes out to clean up the floor]

Man: (As the barista is making the new tea) And why isn’t there any milk out here?

Barista: I’m sorry, we don’t keep milk out.

Man: Who would want tea without milk?! Can you make me a chamomile with milk, please?

Barista: Is 2% ok?

Man: Do you have whole?

Barista: No.

Man: Well then I guess that will have to be ok then, won’t it?

Yikes. Granted, I wouldn’t be very charming if I had just scalded my hand either but he was rapidly deteriorating and I could not look away. He then went on to list all the things wrong with their tea setup (the honey was nearly out, again there was no milk, there were no extra lids). He did glance over at one point and we locked eyes for a second. I’m pretty sure the look on my face was something akin to “Sorry you hurt yourself but you have got to get a grip and stop yelling at the 19 year-old making you tea with milk”. He looked away and then stormed off when his tea with second-rate milk was ready.

Looks like another magical year of air travel is ahead of me!

A Lesson in Patience

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Seatmate Shenanigans, With love from the Tarmac

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Delta, Oy, what rock did you come from under?

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-PHX

In case we haven’t already established it, I am short on patience. (And if you’re hoping from the title that I actually learned a lesson in the virtue of patience, you may be disappointed.) My recent flight to Phoenix for a work conference only confirmed that I should probably have my blood pressure checked.

At any rate. The ways my patience was tried–let me count the ways…

  1. No room at the inn. It’s happened to friends of mine, but I’ve never experienced the hell that is driving up to Terminal 1 and finding that all the ramps are full. FULL. Arg. Thank goodness I always go to the airport two hours early so that I had time to drive to Humphrey and then light rail it over.
  2. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” Security is definitely a place where you need to take a deep breath and tune out the idiocy surrounding you. That is, unless you’re in the PreCheck lane. I don’t think it’s inappropriate to expect more from PreCheck compatriots so imagine my annoyance when the woman in front of me clearly did not understand that she was in the fast lane. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” No. “Should I take out my laptop?” No. “Oh [after the metal detector goes off], but I need to take my belt off?” FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. The TSA agent did apologize to me for the delay (of 48 seconds) so that was appreciated anyway.
  3. A man of the book. That was how the guy across the aisle introduced himself when I asked what he did. How do I always attract these people? And why do I insist on talking to them?
  4. The classiest man on earth. My seat mate (with the middle seat) showed up with a sack of Chik-fil-a which gave me instant nausea just thinking about the stale french fry smell that was soon to encompass me. He made snide commentary during the entire safety film and pilot’s announcements. And then he fell asleep. As he was already protruding from his seat onto mine, it was only a matter of time until his arm started drifting over the armrest he had claimed and into my seat. After several attempts to politely jostle him, I finally just shoved his arm back onto him. But we weren’t done yet…as his sleep deepened, he began to snore and then to ever so slightly fall over onto me. Unfortunately for him, when this happened I was totally ensconced in my work and jumped, effectively scaring the crap out of both of us. (Don’t worry, he easily fell back to sleep and we got to repeat the process.)
  5. The Parisians are coming. Boarding seemed to go incredibly smoothly, which should have been my first clue that something was about to go wrong. The reason for the smoothness, it turned out, was that half our plane was coming from a delayed connection from France. Thirty minutes after we should have departed, the French arrived. Because I’m such a Francophile, I’m usually the first to defend them…but not this time. The lot of them seemed to have no idea that they’d been on a late flight and lallygagged their way onto the plane. Finally all aboard (and after telling one woman, in French, that no, she could not just sit in the seat beside me because it was vacant (my classy seat mate was in the restroom)), I was ready to roll…alas, we still had to wait for the French luggage. An hour after we should have departed…we finally did. Patience: officially tried.
Inc. 500 | 5000 Awards Conference

With the editor-in-chief of Inc. Magazine accepting the Inc. 5000 award

Luckily, everything was much better once I made it to Arizona (well, once I located the taxi stand. Not big on any extra signage in the basement of the airport). I spent my days going between the ice-cold conference rooms and the sweltering 100 degree oven that is Phoenix.

Then, E flew down Friday once his conference in L.A. wrapped up to escort me to the award ceremony of the Inc. 500 | 5000 conference (where I picked up my company’s hardware, see right) and we spent the following day exploring Sedona. All in all, a great getaway to the southwest.

I’m sure it’s been unbearable without my frequent updates so get excited–my next trip is Thursday as we are off to Canada for a family wedding. Hopefully my patience will not be further tried.

Sedona, Arizona

Lovely Sedona

Golden

18 Friday Nov 2011

Posted by alifeinplasticbaggies in Fun with Security

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Oy, what rock did you come from under?

Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: ATL-MSP

I know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting the moment I solidified Gold status* for next year (no? just me? well, you’re here reading already so go with it.) and I’m glad we could all be here together at this exciting time as I tell you that it’s mission: accomplished. Cue streamers.

Solidified for another year.

Other than our collective excitement, I have more to share because, naturally, this momentous occasion could NOT be accompanied by an enjoyable experience at the airport.

Never one to underestimate Atlanta area traffic, I arrived nice and early for my 12:30 flight home yesterday. As I queued into the security line, a gentleman slightly ahead of me caught my attention immediately. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the strong scent of stale scotch, lack of socks with dress shoes or extremely rumpled suit that assailed me at first, it was my hearing as I was forced to listen to his discussion of the…um… entertainment’s ethnicity from the previous night.

“I thought she was Estonian but it turns out she’s from Chattanooga! I know! Just an ethnic-looking hill-billy!”

I raised my eyebrows disapprovingly at him but his eyes were so glazed over that I doubt he noted it.

Blessedly, the call ended shortly thereafter. Perhaps I spoke too soon about him not noticing me, however:

“You’re from New York.” (Looking directly at me. Well, mostly. His eyesight was none too steady.) “Are you going to New York?”

“No.”

“F***.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to come to New York with me?”

“I’m going home to my husband in Minneapolis.”

Then he started singing “St. Juuuuudddeeee….” to the tune of “Hey, Jude” because he was just in Minneapolis at St. Jude Medical. I put on my best appalled face which was unfortunately accompanied by furious blushing due to our exchange.

Luckily, at this point it was his turn to scan in and then he immediately got preoccupied trying to jump the rest of the security line as his flight was in 20 minutes (finally confirming my suspicion that he had literally rolled out of bed and somehow gotten himself to the airport.)

It was mostly uphill from here, although I did have to sit next to a woman who was clearly a smoker and wanted an iPhone tutorial for most of the flight. “Can you believe I just got this? I have no idea what I’m doing!” You don’t say.

To another year of Delta adventures as I start the Gold-quest all over again…

*I’m fully aware that Gold status means approximately nothing, but it’s the little things that make one happy, you know?

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