I hate flying. Maybe because I never did it growing up and have never had a jet setting career. It's not the heights or the fear of crashing. [Tangent: that actually kind of thrills me on some Lost kind of level. Remember that John Locke was once in a wheelchair till Oceanic flight 815 crashed into the Pacific and he became a completely ambulatory evil genius. Hey ya'll everybody - that's pretty awesome.]
...it's more the hassle and the fact that because I don't do it terribly often - I'm on a 4th grade comprehension level when it comes to air travel.
This time, with our flight from BNA > LAX, things seemed different, I bought tickets, did online check in. Checked bags. Made disabled passenger accommodations. [Tangent: you know where they strap you to a teensy Hannibal s&m type dolly contraption and wheel you to your seat. Truly it's not terrible, but I weigh about 85 lbs so I fit on the dolly. Some probably don't.]
|I seriously feel like I'm going into a psych ward|
Then the captain informed us that there was something critically wrong with our engine [Tangent: maybe a John Locke moment was closer than I thought!] and to just hang tight...which in my case meant watching Betty White's Off Their Rockers on my tiny headrest TV. [Tangent: as terrible yet somehow enchanting as one would think from the concept of a Punk'd from the greatest generation ]
This led to about an hour and a half of sitting tight while they decided to scramble for helping the people who were using BNA to LAX as a connector and give us 25 dollar vouchers to use anything in the airport ! Boom! My mind reeled with possibility of ballin' with neck pillows and paperbacks and overpriced airport cocktails aplenty...only everything was closed when we got back in the terminal. Suddenly the idea of finding ourselves in the Nashville airport terminal after hours got seemingly less glamorous. [Tangent: Because they had to excavate and unload my wheelchair which had been stowed with baggage and strap me back on the dolly to get my ass off the plane,we were left with one dining option that was trying to close and whatever they hadn't thrown out yet.]
For five hours, we hung out and tried to sleep on benches and weighed in our heads whether it was better to make friends with our fellow inbetweeners or avoid eye contact altogether. [Tangent: I was torn between the teen religious zealot playing with his Rubiks cube or the lone rider in a backwards snuggie.]
Just when I was starting to feel like Tom Hanks in that movie with the airport [Tangent: no not Castaway..the other one.] , the announcement was made that they found us a new plane and we were boarding at 11:45 pm. To quell the angry and exhausted villagers, we were given free reign of the movie options, which seemed cool theoretically, but they'd inevitably would shut off at the 45 mark. Over the duration of my 4 hour flight to LA, I watched roughly half of 3 shitty movies. [Tangent: for the record- Admission<Identity Thief> Burt Wonderstone]
It was definitely a rough start to my trip out to California, but luckily I had no pressing commitment to get to other than seeing my sweet niece and hearing her put about 4 extra syllables in my name: "kiiiiiiimmmmmiie". Seeing her when I landed in Cali at 1:30 AM made it all the better.