She Who Drove Herself to the Aeroport & Prison Life

I know. That leads one to believe that something I did sent me to prison. While it was much like an interminable Sentence, the two are related but not in the obvious-to-friends-assumption way. Right.

Sis says -let me forewarn you from now on, when I say ‘Sis says,’ somebody slap me in the back of the head to remind me SIS IS WRONG 100% OF THE TIME that parking at the airport is No Big Thing. ‘Just park and go in like you’re at any shop or the post office.’

As I’m driving HER to the airport, the day before I’ll drive myself out, I Notice Things. See, I’ve never had to think about them, let alone look for them as I have before this summer ALWAYS been the one getting dropped and never dropping or picking up because OZARKS. I’m not going to tell you that people born and bred in the Ozarks cannot drive in a city. I’m stating that of all the people I know who are honestly rather good drivers –we start before we can reach the pedals and when we’re peering UNDER the top of the steering wheel and do not mistake this for hyperbole because it is not but absolute shite in anything above a population of 4,000? It’s usually hicks. And I’m a hick.

-are the new readers gone yet? 

I notice, it’s Tuesday at 13:30h and there’s a blinking sign that reads, ‘East Garage FULL’ then a sign that reads, ‘West Garage FULL.’ I mention this to Sis, who says, ‘That has NEVER happened before.’

Okay, now my readers, while only the 3 of you, are smarter than Ta. As a pop quiz, what happens when Sis Says something? It’s 100% wrong. YOU are 100% correct. Even I, at this point, thought, ‘Bull-fucking-shit. You never NOTICED it before, not ‘it has never happened before.’ No. I’m sorry. They wouldn’t have spent A LOT OF MONEY on those very large signs that have lights telling you full or empty. Two of them.

‘What do I do now?’

Sis Says, ‘Well, you do not want to use the commercial lot because I did that and since we’re not a corporate fleet, that is insane money, so use Valet parking.’

‘Isn’t Valet parking going to be insane money?’

Sis Says, ‘Not like commercial parking.’

Okay. WTF do I know? Where I live, when you need more parking, you open a GATE and let people park in another PASTURE. Do not think that I’m joking.

Going on what Sis Said, I roll up the next day. Garages FULL. I head to Valet parking. Okay, she told me there would be a nice man from Tobago who was going to give me a slip of paper. I’m not sure what a man from Tobago looks like but I pictured him as a man in a white shirt, red waistcoat and black bow tie. I didn’t see him. I waited and a car came up behind me.

I continued to wait and noticed a Sign. I read it. It told me, ‘XUSD / hr … 96USD / day, NO MAXIMUM.’ I’m not good with maths but I reckoned Today plus at least Tomorrow equalled a shitload.

I had to go BACK (out of my Sis’ car) and ask the lady behind me to BACK UP. I couldn’t get out where I was otherwise. This caused a great deal of perspiration. I’m not joking here, either. My scalp started to sweat down my forehead and into my eyes, let alone behind my ears and the bits where I sit felt fairly unseemly as well.

-are any of the new readers still here? Bless.

I couldn’t do it as it was on a curve and I’m driving a BIG ARSED CAR that I cannot see out the back, let alone the many and varied blindspots. Even Sis had bitched about the blindspots on this company-loaner. I began to audibly-distress. In other words, I’m not sure if it was a baby-choking-wail or if I said something like, ‘fuck me we’re all going to DIE with me driving this bitch’ but a skinny old woman (really) stopped walking by, turned and came back. ‘Would you like me to guide you out?’

::hysterical tears of relief::

Okay, I didn’t cry but only because my sweat glands had overridden use of body water.

I get the fuck out and stop some skinny old man in the garage to ask where the hell a person parks who can’t park in a full garage or afford a Valet at $100/day. He said, ‘Head out and in a mile or so, there’s an Economy lot.’

I did this. Now, let me roll back a bit to tell you about the airport that I *can* drive to but never want to park at again: Remember my driving skillz don’t handle city-driving and by ‘city,’ I mean anything larger than population 4,000? You guys are good!

This airport is placed on a MASSIVE parcel of land. You get off the highway and it makes ONE loop and spits you back out onto the highway. You could circle all day long. That’s why, from Sis’ house 26 miles away, there are 2 turns: one onto the highway and one into the airport. I can do this. The problem occurs if I have to stop the car. I mean, park. I can stop and let you in or out. Now, along this circle, there are chances (not many) to pull into lots, hence there are 2 economy lots (I didn’t know this but now I do).

When you get off the highway and turn into the airport? The speed limit is 65mph. You drive 5 miles to get to the airport. IT’S THAT FUCKING BIG.

I got into the Economy lot and began the ‘Christmas Shopping Mall Crawl.’ This is when you’re looking for a space and have to weave in and out of all the lanes, hoping for a place to deposit your vehicle. If you’ve every been acquainted with the ALPHABET, you may remember Z is the last letter. The first spot I found was in Z. And there were approximately 10 other spots. You’d think that I would not feel particularly grateful at this point, seeing as ONE HOUR OF SPOT-SEARCHING HAD PASSED but I was extremely grateful because I got one of the last 10 spots AT THE AIRPORT.

I snapped a photo of the zone and began hauling 2 very heavy bags (this ain’t no carryon) and my backpack in. This took an additional 30 minutes of hiking. If I had only had my backpack (my typical travel-ensemble unless I have a weekender, which is a pain but can be picked up to run), this wouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Some of the car park is GRAVEL.

I want those of you who are good at maths to reason this: I had planned an additional cushion of 10 minutes to ‘park and go in’ as Sis Said. It took me an additional 90 minutes. By the time I got into the concourse and saw the queue (Sis has no printer and you have to have a printed boarding pass) — mind you, I had to check these 2 large bags, too — I thought, ‘I seriously don’t know if I’m going to make this flight.’ I still had 45 minutes before take-off because I normally, even at ‘easy’ airports, allow time to go through Security (I’ve gotten screwed on abnormally-long Security) and then knock back at least 2 Vodka Tonics cos a) I like to drink b) I like to not RUN at an airport and c) I try to be a responsible drunk.

I got to Security and while I will not complain, it was longer than usual for this airport. They normally knock it out. I do not know why things were so busy on a Wednesday at 13h but there you go. Also, get out of Security and escalators are broken. I don’t mind using stairs because I can but that meant of the 4 ‘going up’ things, there was ONE. Bottleneck. Also, your usual assholes who lag to the left. In the U.S., you lag to the right and allow ‘passing on the left.’ Get the fuck out of the way. I understand old people who don’t know this but college aged and business people? GRRRRR

Get to Terminal C via train and RUNNNNNNNNNN. I made it as they were boarding Class B (I was Class A). I don’t know how. Oh, and for ‘fun?’ I had never had the Dunce ‘Late Check-In’ fluorescent tags put on my baggage before. It’s a bit embarrassing, which is probably why they do it. I mean, I get they’re trying to help baggers know to grab this one before others -maybe but it felt like a punishment, which I deserved because I listened to what Sis Said.

Prison: believe it or not, I’ve never been to a prison before. -never mentioned jail I believe it went well. I spoke with the Deputy Warden and an office clerk. I’ll know early next week. Then, the phone rang as I was leaving (my ringer was off). I noticed the voicemail a bit later (I’d gone to replenish my chocolate and gluten-free frozen pizza pantry from being gone) and it was the job in the capital. I have an interview Wednesday-next. I also was contacted by 2 places that I have no interest in due to being in the business for almost 20 years and knowing Some Things about them: a) the owner of one place is a PIECE and b) the other place has some downsides, though they were bought out by a LARGE nationwide company, so that may make it very different compared to the last 10 years. On a public blog, I don’t want to give specifics. Honestly, I have to work, so even a Bad Place is A Place. Still. The capital job would mean moving halfway to KC but it’s a real job n stuff — and ignorance is bliss. At least I’m not so incestuous in that industry, where I know too much about too many people and how they run their businesses.

In summary: I’m EXCEPTIONALLY pleased with how the airport thing turned out (not missing my flight) but WHAT THE FUCK with me listening to Sis? I could go into specifics about at least 5 other things Sis Said that threw me into an oubliette but it’s my fault for LISTENING. Ugh. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid.

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2 thoughts on “She Who Drove Herself to the Aeroport & Prison Life

  1. I would have looked like I’ve gotten into rain due to panic-sweating! (and probably dumped the car in the next pasture just to make definitely sure I won’t miss the flight)

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    • I was a frantic mess. And hilariously told everybody along the way that is screwed up–not asking for help, just ‘look what I’ve DONE!’ It barely worked out but I was SO lucky!

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