Right now, it’s 4:03 pm and I’m sitting in John F. Kennedy airport with a sore back, sore feet and a mildly surly disposition. Dear Auntie Social (also from Madeleines + Macarons) and I have missed our 2:59 pm flight to Toronto.
The sad thing about it is that we didn’t miss our flight because we were lawlessly roaming through the streets of Manhattan – we did that on Saturday night, early Sunday morning. We missed our flight because of the Dominican Day parade on 6th Avenue. We saw the barricades being put up early Sunday morning, but we didn’t know that it was because of a parade that was going to shut down many of the thoroughfares that we needed to take to get to the airport.
The new flight, my friends, is leaving at 8 pm. At least it’s not leaving on Thursday.
So, while I sit here, I’ll update you on the fun that was BlogHer ’10 and our trip to New York.
And this, my friends, is why I don’t enjoy traveling to the States
Our flight was scheduled to leave Thursday at 5:30 – which was great. The meeting that I had a work was postponed until Monday and I was able to leave a little earlier than I had planned. I had expected to log in when I got to the airport (they have free Wi-Fi unlike JFK… thieves), but it took us longer than expected to get to the airport. The shuttle didn’t arrive until 1:40 and we didn’t arrive at the airport until 3pm.
No biggie – we grabbed our stuff and proceeded to the Del.ta online check-in kiosk. We put in our information, but Dear Auntie Social had some trouble and was told that American customs may or may not choose to allow her into the country. The crisis was averted and we finally got to the gate. By that time, I was starved. STARVED. I get miserable when I’m hungry, so I was miserable. I went to a restaurant and ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and a bottle of Fiji water.
Fiji water was all they had. Why? Because the wanted to juk out my eye. The water cost $4.99. For one bottle. I can get a 24-pack of water at my local No Fr.ills for $1.29 on sale. One blasted bottle of water for almost five bucks. Chupse. But what could I do? I was parched and they only sold expensive water and even more expensive juice.
By the time I looked up from my plate, it was 4:15 and the flight was supposed to board at 4:35 for the 5:30 trip. Right. The boarding and departure time on your boarding pass is only a suggestion. Everyone knows that they just use that as a guideline. They won’t leave any earlier than 5:30, but don’t get your hopes up. About 4:45, the Del.ta attendant made an announcement that our gate had moved and we would have to go to the new gate. Sure! Where is it?
Behind the good Lord’s back, obviously. We walked and we stopped. We went up, then we went down. We saw a camel and took a breather and we finally ended up in the place where, as Dear Auntie Social said, hope came to die. I had been transported to Riyadh – it was hot and dusty and in the belly of the airport. The sun, hot and dry, burned through the windows and the opened door as the attendants tried to board people on the flight to Cincinnati. A baby howled, a mother looked like she was ready to cuss the attendants and all the seats were taken. Once the Cincinnati peeps got on their plane, seat opened up and DAS and I made our way to them. We got comfortable and a man, who was seated across from us, proceeded to remove his flip flops.
Yes, his flip flops. Boss, most of your foot is already exposed, do we need to see the rest of your hot, sour foot in all of it’s glory?
Finally, at about 7:15 (I think, I was delirious with the tiredness and heat) we boarded our flight to New York. Now, our boarding pass said seat 13A and 13B – most of the planes that I’ve traveled on have been relatively big. So, I kinda thought this one was too… I should have realized that that wasn’t the case when we had to go outside to board the plane – it was like we were in the islands. They were just missing the steelpan band and some rum punches. I’m sorry, but Del.ta is a real bargain basement airline… considering the amount of daggone money I paid for the ticket. You couldn’t pay the fees to get a better deal that this at Pearson? Chupse.
DAS and I climbed up the stairs (definitely not accessible for my peeps with disabilities) and found our way to the back of the plane, by, GASP!, the washroom. Dear Heavenly Father, please don’t let it be! Tired, hot, uncomfortable (I’m not a tall woman, DAS is, and my knees were in my chest) and by the toilet? I began to weep. DAS began to weep. And the dude with the feet took his flip flops off to get comfortable.
An hour and a half later, we were deplaning at JFK. Oh praise God! We got our bags, jumped in a cab and headed to the Hil.ton New York. The weather was so nice and we were so haunted, we went walking at 10:30 pm, we saw Radio City Music Hall and Magnolia Bakery of Sex and the City fame. Finally, we saw the bright lights of Times Square.
Madness, folks, madness. But guess what? Justin Timberlake was filming a scene of his upcoming movie, Friends with Benefits, in the middle of the madness. We stood up and watched the action with a couple thousand of our closest NY friends for about 45 minutes.
By that time, we were tired. Around midnight, we crept back to the hotel and hit the sack. We set the alarm for six am. LAWD! I hadn’t even started the conference yet and we were busted.
Check for Part II!