11/11/19
Whose bright idea was it to get up at 1:30 AM, catch a flight, fly to Texas, and return all in the same dang day?
Seeing how I have not flown much at all in the last twenty years, except for a business conference now and again, I had forgotten the level of migraine-inducing events of a single flight. Things have changed. Security has not. After undressing in front of a few hundred folks, I was told the scanner is curious about my upper back and pelvis. Great, a line of superglue on my back and hernia mesh inside.
“Odd,” he said finding nothing.
“Yes, yes, I know I am.”
My flight from Richmond to Atlanta, oh yea, no travel goes without connecting in Atlanta when you fly Delta. My late arrival at the Dallas flight as I hurry to make it by departure time. Atlanta has not changed in a long time, arrive at the end of one concourse, dodge wheelchairs, and flight board gawkers, leap over small children to get to the train to go to another concourse and walk to the end of it. Their algorithm of who goes where stinks, really. After a near O.J. style airport run, I am confused, my brain says I am late, probably last to board. Yet no one is boarding. Those dreaded words, maintenance delay, attempt to set into my mind. Then the horrors of a delay begin to sink in.
Crap and I have a free shuttle picking me up at an appointed hour. Anxiety now at a five out of ten. Finally, we board. Texted the shuttle driver not to wait if he can’t, knowing I was told there are supposed to be two of us on this run.
My text upon landing went something like this:
ME: “Are you still at the Love field?” Hey, it’s what they all call it to distinguish it from DTW.
Tommy: “Yes”
So far, so good.
ME: “Deplaning now will be outside in fifteen.”
Tommy: “Go to ground level transportation, look just beyond #5, you will see a big black pickup.”
Ok, as I replied and OK, my mind was spinning on the words, big, black pickup.
I exit, look left, see #3 then #2, then #1. Turning right and see #4, then the quoted #5, So instead of a mud-stomping black pickup truck, there waits a black luxury ten passenger bus. To Tommy, the driver, this is a big black pickup. Things are already different in Texas, apparently.
Never will I drive voluntarily in Dallas. Just leave that there. We are talking nothing less than 70 mph, interchanges crossing interchanges as if concrete were something of little value. Four lanes, a speed lane in the middle and hundred-foot-high flyovers are going everywhere
.
Finally, we arrive at the largest RV dealer in the country. Sixty golf carts for folks to get around in, shop, and not be bothered by a salesman unless they want one. Brandon, my appointed salesman, drove me out to the motorhome, where George took me on a tour of things; he had been waiting for me.
After the tour, Brandon delivered me to the Finance guy, I don’t even remember seeing my Certified check sliding off the desk as I signed my half of each document. It took less time than buying a car.
After signing my life away, we rode to their free lunch program, since I was now broke, a free cheeseburger any day is good.
Tommy was right there to take me back to the airport, I felt like crying, I was already worn out, and it was only 2:30 PM Central time. My first flight, seat assignment, they do the assignments as a matter of intimidation to those pesky cheap ticket buyers.
First goes elderly, not sure that meant me, then military, active or retired. Now we take 1st class, then main cabin #1, then #2, then #3. And oh, by the way, you pesky cheap-o’s can board last.
People, pressing to get in line as if the plane might be giving money away. I never understood that. Then it wrestled me to the ground, finding my seat on a connecting first leg flight, last row, window, only there is no window there. That algorithm at work again, apparently.
Knowing if I worried about the connection, I’d be penalized by the almighty, “algo-man” my name of the fool that never figured out the way to really board would be to call all window seats first. Then middle seats then Aisle. At least, not board the wheelchair folks who always have an aisle seat, making them get up to accommodate the other two places. Stupid.
So back to the reason for this blog. We bought this little beauty on November 9th. We take delivery sometime before Christmas and get this infant home to VA. From there, we figure out the logistics of it all and make and modifications here ourselves. I need a place to keep writing, or I will go nuts.
Until next time…
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