Not much of a tweeter, so I decided to post all witty observations from my day of airports here. I’m currently on my way to LaGuardia from Newark Liberty because my flight got canceled. “we should have emailed you,” the agent told me. Ugh, yeah, you should have. I’m a frequent flier. You have all my info for like my last six addresses. And my parents’ info … But they were accommodating and gave me a meal voucher and cab ride to LGA.
So I stopped for breakfast. The coffee was actually good. I had low expectations, Jersey. Then the guy handed me my bagel. On a plate. Wha?Aren’t bagels made to be eaten while walking! Do not comprehend.
Chatted with a guy at the taxi stand who was also going to LGA because of the cancellation. He was angry. I didn’t understand. I’m getting to Dallas three hours later than planned, but it could be worse. They initially offered me a flight — with layover — tomorrow morning.
LaGuardia has bars with iPads at every gate. It’s awesome. I did some web surfing (I read that Switzerland mental health vs. gun ownership article you told me about, Pam) and played Hangman while I waited. Finally I got on a plane. The ride was uneventful, just the way you want a flight to be.
Got my rental car. I had to upgrade to an SUV to accommodate Papa and his new knees and wheelchair. I got a fancy BMW. It was all good until I had to reverse and couldn’t figure out how to do that. Shouldn’t be so hard, right? And the car has no lock button. I think it just automatically locks unless you’re standing by it with the fancy non-key. I hope it locks automatically because Fort Worth isn’t the safest of places.
I woke up early, finished an article and emailed it off to Rachael. Now I’m going for a run before I meet up with Papa. “You’re so Seattle,” Quyn would say of my inability to lounge in bed until noon. Hope you’re having a good trip, too Quynansea!
Oh, and Texas is very different from New York. The young lady at the car rental counter didn’t understand my lack of car insurance. And apparently it’s chicken-fried steak, not country-fried. I don’t under stand what “chicken-fried steak” means. How can steak be chicken? But one of my co-workers told me how to say it before I left. “Otherwise they’d look at you like, ‘where is this girl from?'” he told me.