I am sitting in the Houston airport waiting for a flight to Chicago during a time with an 80% chance of blizzards all throughout the midwest. That 80% chance is, in fact, happening right now. We are delayed, our gate has been changed twice, and I am sitting in the President’s club with a lot of old business men that are not speaking English. Why aren’t they speaking English, you may ask? Well, it is because we are in the international terminal…again, going to Chicago. I don’t get it either. While everyone else is going to Europe, or South America, I am trying to fly into a snow storm…
I feel like I have several options available to me:
I could talk to my roommate on Facebook, who has entertaining things to tell me such as: “I tried to cross my legs because I am wearing a dress, and the table scratched off my scab. That’s what I get for trying to be a lady.”
I could people-watch in the airport, which has always been a favorite of mine. But for some reason, it just doesn’t seem like it could hold my attention at this point in my day. So, I will just rule that one out right now.
I could call my mom who is already in Chicago and complain about how I am sitting here doing nothing with my time, but then she would give me a lecture about how I need to stay positive, and that is just the worst lecture in the world – I’ve heard it four times already…today.
Or I could write about it. Which I clearly have decided to do.
I remember last night asking my dad what time we needed to leave the house and he told me 7:30 am. So I said, alright please do not wake me up before 7. This morning, I get a call at 6:18 am. I answer the phone in my morning scratchy voice “I said not before 7.” Click. And I went back asleep. I woke up again at 7:05, brushed my teeth (not my hair – I never do that), put on clothes, packed my computer, loaded the car, and left for the airport!
You have to understand what traveling with my dad is like to fully appreciate my experience, so I will try to explain it as well as I can. We arrive at the airport 3 hours ahead of time because of the fear of holiday crowds – alright, understandable. However, when we got here, there was not even a small crowd. No lines, no chaos, nothing. My father still insists on paying extra for curbside check-in because of the “holiday rush”. I go along with it, mainly because it is 8:00 in the morning and do not have the strength or mental capacity to argue, but also because I have 20 years experience with traveling with him. I have learned to smile and nod. He could be like this because he is a New Yorker and they are always a little crazed, or maybe its a Jewish thing. I don’t really know. But, I promised him I wouldn’t make any Jewish jokes in this blog, but my day wouldn’t be complete without at least one little fib.
After breezing through security in a total of five minutes, we headed straight for the President’s Club. We don’t fly first class, but gosh darn it we are going to lounge before our two hour flight. As soon as we sit down and get comfortable, my dad informs me that the gate has been changed and that we need to switch Presidents Clubs. What? Switch Presidents Clubs? We hopped on the train and went to the other terminal (the international one where no one speaks English). Our flight is delayed until 11:55 am as of right now (10:00 am).
I think I am going to conquer my boredom by playing online Scrabble for a few hours.