Overstay My Welcome

I apparently had overstayed my welcome in Michigan because my plans to remain until today (New Year's Day) were quickly changed by the threat of a severe winter storm. Since I arrived just before a big storm that caused relative chaos, I decided that this was a sign that I needed to leave before I ended up sleeping in the airport for a few days and developing that temporarily homeless disheveled and desperate look about me. Perhaps learning from the disaster of Jet Blue, or perhaps trying to fill still empty flights, Northwest was announcing free flight changes. Not being one to turn down anything free (well, almost anything. When a three year old offers a free hair cut, it is always best to say no. And then hide the scissors somewhere very high and out of sight.), I rapidly changed my flight. Stupid snow. So much for my plans to celebrate with my brother and his wacky but precious family. Instead I rushed around preparing to make another quick exit, which seems to be becoming a norm for me. I had a chance for a last round of Wii with my niece and brother and sister in law before leaving. That game system/torture device is a whole separate post but lets just say that I suck. I not only suck, but I am embarrassingly awful and even the three year old points this our to me. Quite eloquently she will laugh hysterically and then inform me "Aunt B, you suck!". Thanks Little Bit, you still pee your pants and are too short for this darn game to even realize you are trying to play, so really, you have no room to talk. But thank you for your opinion. I then dashed to the airport 2 1/2 hours early only to make it through security in 5 minutes. Had I been running late, security would have chosen me for a random screening and I would have had a free physical courtesy of the federal government. So I was able to eat "dinner" at the airport (bowl of rice with sauce+ funky cool Japanese soft drink = $15=so not worth it), shop at the cool but also overpriced airport stores, and still be at the gate over an hour before boarding. I politely asked the ticket agent at the gate if I could change my seat, because when my flight changed I was given a middle seat and I hate being the monkey in the middle with elbows jabbing me from both sides and no escape route clearly available. Perhaps it was my sweet demeanor following the rude ass in front of me who was demanding that she somehow make his late flight arrive on time (because you know, she can do that if only she tries) or perhaps it was the fact that I willingly offered suggestions to help her son with some learning issues when she found out that I am a special education teacher, but she totally hooked me up. I was allowed to board early (guaranteed overhead luggage storage, no need to stand in line) and when she switched my seat to an aisle seat she gave me a seat in an empty row. I ended up with an entire row to myself. Oh yeah, that was awesome. I curled up across all three seats for most of the flight with my coat as a pillow and took a nice nap. Some of the other passengers were shooting me rather nasty looks as they sat elbow to elbow, but I just contentedly stretched out and enjoyed my sweet gift. It was better than first class any day. I safely escaped the snow, leaving just as it started snowing, and arrived home safely. However, to the baboon who decided to throw my duffel bag by its shoulder strap and thus not only broke the strap but must have dropped it rather hard I have a memo for you. What the Hell were you thinking? I realize that airport luggage transport does not require a high level of education, but come on! Even I know that you can not throw a 40 pound bag by a thin shoulder strap and expect it to actually be successful. I hope someone picks you up by your suspenders and we can see which happens...an incredible wedgie or broken suspenders. Idiot. Oh, and to the wonderful shuttle company that left me stranded at the airport on New Years Eve. I can not write what I am thinking, but may the fleas of a thousand camels infest you in places you can not scratch in public. My heroes, my best friends here, rescued my freezing and very desperate arse from the airport thus not resigning me to spending New Years at the airport or spending my entire paycheck on a cab ride. So I got the message from the snow storm (get out you vagabond. This is not home anymore, you are a gypsy.), and am back where home is for now. But really, was a foot of snow necessary for me to get the message? I hope everyone is having fun digging out from my message! Happy New Year!