John Holton (john_holton) wrote,
John Holton

Sunday evening...

I've had two very nice days at home, and am still at home until I have reason to leave or until I'm told to fly somewhere. I didn't realize how tired I was until my head hit my pillow in my bed at my house on Friday night.

Friday was a weird day. I spent most of it on the phone with the development people in Atlanta, trying to get something to work with no success. Finally, the development person told me to go ahead and head for the airport, because it was going to take her some time to figure out what has been going wrong. For the record, this is one of those odd data processing anomalies where something will work fine under most conditions, but not under one specific condition. In this case, the condition is that the person works in Canada. It shouldn't work that way, but it does.

Anyway, I stop for dinner at KFC on my way to the airport. When I walk into the place, I notice that it must be close to 80 degrees in the place and there are a bunch of dangerous looking characters hanging around, not eating, not even waiting for food, just kind of standing around inside the restaurant. They were there when I got there, they were there when I left fifteen minutes later.

OK, so I go to the airport, and I get myself checked in, and go to security. I am greeted first by one of the rent-a-cops who checks my ID and my boarding pass, then passes me along to the intrepid employee of the TSA, who again checks my ID and tells me to go stand in line behind a woman who is carrying on a rather friendly conversation with another intrepid employee of the TSA. I stand there for fifteen minutes, listening to the two of them having a wonderful, friendly conversation, holding my bag and my boarding pass and my driver's license, believing that said TSA employee will be interested in examining my documents, my baggage, etc. in the interest of national safety. Meanwhile, a dozen or so people who weren't even IN the airport when I got to security have now gone past me, through the metal detector, and might very well be on their planes and on the way home. Chatty TSA Charlie suddenly looks up, sees me there, and says, "I'm sorry, did you want to get past me?" Seems that TSA Guy 1 had merely sent me to where TSA Guy 2 was standing so that I could remove my laptop from my backpack, remove my fanny pack, place my items on the belt, and pass through the metal detector as my personal items were being x-rayed.

Understand, this was not the first contretemps that I had had with the TSA on this most recent trip, nor my most memorable in the year or so since Duh Government decided that Duh People who handle the security at our airports should work for Duh Government and be members of Duh Union. But, that's another rant entirely., I get to the gate, and wait for them to call my flight. Now, a week before when I booked my flight, I was shown a seating map of the Boeing 737 that was to take me from CLE to ATL, and it appeared that there were approximately 5 open seats on it. I managed to procure for myself the last aisle seat on the plane, which, as you can imagine, was in the last row of the plane, leading me to believe that this would be a very full flight, and that quite possibly people would be hanging off of straps as well. Turns out, there are about 20 people on said plane, and I have not only the last row to myself, I have damn near every seat aft of the wings to myself. Which, frankly, is kind of cool, but still somewhat disconcerting.

Anyway, it was a pleasant flight home. So, we land, and I make my way forward. And, wouldn't you know, a woman in front of me decides that she needs to use the head. So, I see her coming and prepare to step aside. She approaches me and, for some reason, decides to start tickling me. And I ask her to stop, and she doesn't. I finally climb into a row and seat myself up against the bulkhead, whereupon she tells me that I'm no fun and proceeds to the bathroom. I got off and managed to elude her, thank heaven.

Now, I figure I'm in the clear. I go to baggage claim and pick up my bag, head out to the bus to take me to my car. There are two buses there, one of which was full, so I get on the other bus. Needless to say, that was the wrong bus to get on. At least twice during our ride around the parking lot, he stops behind the other bus. Never mind that the parking lot is 2/3 empty, and that he could very easily have chosen to take another route around the lot...

Does anyone have any other questions as to why I'm so happy to be home?

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