Saturday, March 21, 2009

Leaving L.A.

My time in Cali came and went... too fast. I had such a good time, I spent a lot of time with my friends and we did a lot of shopping, and there wasn't a night that we didn't go out. There was nothing to stress about the whole time I was there. There wasn't a single moment that I wished I was home, in fact it was the opposite, every single moment I was wishing I didn't have to go home.
Thursday, my friend Brandi, drove me to the airport. We were there an hour before my flight was supposed to take off and they wouldn't let me check in. The lady at the counter told me that they flight was overbooked and I couldn't get on. Then when I asked if there were any other flights out that night (because I needed to get back that night since I had a meeting with my recruiter the next morning), the lady told me there was only one other one, and that one was overbooked as well. My friend was outside waiting by the curb to make sure that I could get on my plane, I went out and told her the situation. She told me to wait by her car and she went in to go try to talk to someone about getting a refund or somehow getting on another plane. Long story short, they told her there was nothing they could do. They weren't able to give her a refund, they couldn't get me on the next plane, and any flights the next day would cost extra. My friend was super pissed off... so pissed off in fact that she was even considering driving me back to Utah rather than buy another ticket from them.
Luckily, her husband was on the phone working out a deal and he got me a cheap ticket on another airline, unfortunately it was one of those open seating flights full of a bunch of screaming kids.. but I guess it was better than nothing.
When it came time to board the plane, I was one of the last to board because my ticket was last minute, so when I got on the plane, my only choice was sitting next to a boy that was probably in 5th grade or sitting by some lady and her baby. I opted for the 5th grader thinking that he was old enough to not bother me.
Once the plane got into the air, the boy took his shoes and socks off and his dad started rubbing one of his feet, then the boy put his other foot on me and asked me to rub it. I was like NO WAY!
That was the grossest thing ever. I hate feet and this kid is asking me to touch his, I don't think so.
As if that little incident wasn't bad enough, the kid fell asleep on me on the plane. I tried pushing him off but he kept falling back on me. I should have just woke him up and told him to stop sleeping on me, but that plane was full of very family oriented people who like kids (if you catch my drift) and would've been pissed off at me and yelled at me for yelling at this kid who was drooling all over me.
Finally, the plane landed, but this guy was one of those guys that liked to get off last, so I sat pressed up against the window for an hour and a half waiting for idiots who didn't know how to get off a frickin plane. When I got to the escalators at the airport, I just stood on the step and let it take me down. This kid (well not really) who had to be in high school or slightly older, came running down behind me and bumped into me with his bag. I was so irritated with having to be back in Utah and the way my flight had gone by this point that I pushed him and he tripped and fell. He looked up at me with a "why would you do that?" look and all I said was, "excuse you!"
My dad was there to pick me up, and we got on the shuttle that takes us to the parking lot. When it came to our stop I had to wait for this super fat guy to get his luggage and get off. While he was picking his luggage up, he farted in my face! I was so pissed, and I felt like I was going to throw up.
Ugh... you see the effect Utah has on people?

No comments:

Post a Comment