Tuesday, November 21, 2006

My Trip

I recently flew back to Pasadena, CA, where I once worked.
I fly down there sometimes, as part of my job.

(which I don't think I will ever talk about here, except to say that I work for great people at an astounding company, and am generally happier with my job than most people I know. Now, no one is always happy at their job all the time 24/7, or else it wouldn't be a, you know, JOB.)

*Besides which, if you were totally thrilled with your job and chirping about it 24/7, I'll bet that your co-workers would beat you in the parking lot.*

It seems like I'll probably get back there at least once a year. Potterchick asked me about my trip and I said it was too long to write about in email, but that it was awesome. She said, "Well, you could always blog about it....."

And so here I am.

I left the office at 1:00pm for a 3:00pm flight. PLENTY of time, even to check my bag because I carried (GASP) 1 fluid ounce more liquid than is allowed to be carried on. *Note to contact lens solution makers - make them in 3 oz containers PUHLEEZE. (Either that, or have the decency to print something on the label. Something like this: 4 oz. is our smallest size! So don't bother driving to Fred Meyer, because we'll still be too big to carry-on!)

Thank God they took the bag from me, because I was primed and ready to optically disinfect everyone within a 5 mile radius of myself. At a moment's notice. For any reason, or no reason at all. Remember that about me.

Beautifully, the weather decided to cooperate in the best possible way.
It was literally pouring rain sideways, and every car on the freeway was crawling along in a bloodbath of break lights and trying not to hydroplane. I am also primed and ready to hydroplane at a moment's notice. Thank you Ford and your tiny, featherweight car.

I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, which was good, because I spent that and then some trying to find parking. No parking. At the AIRPORT. Where people sometimes really need to, you know, PARK. I drove every floor of the garage for about 46 minutes. Actually, it was exactly 46 minutes, I know this because I had ridiculously downed a full cup of coffee prior to leaving the office and as every single minute of NO PARKING ticked off, my bladder was counting them down. Anxiously.

Finally, I gave up, already drafting my strongly worded letter to Sea-Tac Airport. You see, I had passed at least one FULL floor that was closed for construction, but of course, no visible signs of any construction were present. Just miles and miles of empty stalls, viewed by really pissed off parkers with no place to do it.

The lady at the ticket booth as I came out wanted to make all kinds of calls to people to tell them of my problem. My bladder strenuously objected to this type of courtesy and after much barking and loudly rolled eyes, she let me go without paying anything. To which, you're damn right I'm not paying anything!!

I quickly got away from the airport and stopped at a gas station. I needed to pee so I could think straight, because I was GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT! And that was really really bad, for reasons which I'll elaborate on later.

As luck would have it, I no sooner stepped out of the unimaginably filthy gas station restroom when I gazed straight across the street at a VALET Park & Ride. Valet. Park, then ride! Sounded perfect. And it was. With no further ado, I cut across three lanes of traffic in a highly illegal move and was handing my keys to a valet while screaming, HOLD THAT SHUTTLE.

I made the flight.

I made the flight that landed me in balmy Burbank at approximately 6:15pm.
The second the bell dinged, I was up, out of my seat, and standing for the deplane.

I sprinted to the car rental place (Hertz, and I had a lovely experience, thank you so much, except for the fact that, Lady? If I rented the car off of Hotwire, you might assume from that that I do not want to - nor do I have the funds to - upgrade to the two seater convertible sports car. I much prefer my death from smoking. Thank you so much.)

I wrestled my bag off the conveyor belt, sped over to my co-workers' hotel, dropped him off, raced back to my own, checked in - peed, because there's NO WAY I can go 45 minutes without doing that, and then took a call from S.

That is part one of the trip. Veronica Mars is on and I've burned a pizza, so obviously I need to focus.


Platypus King said...

Note to all reading this particular blog: she did not ONCE call her husband during her trip to Pasadena.
Just FYI

Salome said...

I'm sorry, honey.