“My flight home” or “God hates air travellers”

Location: 40000 ft. in the air; probably over New Hampshire or something

So apparently Murphy’s Law has had a backlog, because today, the bottleneck just opened up, spewing bullshit left, right, up, down and every other direction it could conceive of. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the folks at Murphy’s Inc. developed a way to exist in the fourth dimension, just to make my life more difficult.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

I wake up around 8:55am. I had set my alarm for 9:00am, but for some reason, my body has never once slept properly the night before I’m about to fly. It’s not like I’m nervous or anything like that; in fact I love flying. Perhaps it’s that my body knows that it’s about to be in some place new and it can’t wait to get there to experience it. It’s just a pain in the ass because it means that I’m usually tired as hell on the days I fly.

Sarah and I got up, and finished the last little bit of cleaning in our house, so that our stupid landlady would quit bitching about insignificant things (like “there’s a dirt mark along the caulking on the floor” or “I love intruding on you when you’re trying to have some alone time, but I just want to come spy on you”). If I ever see another mop, sponge, or bottle of Tilex, it’ll be too soon.

Bad omen #1

Around 9:45, we called the cab company and ordered a cab for 10:30. My flight departed at 1:05pm, so that should give us ample time to get to the airport, checked in, blah blah blah. We finished cleaning around 10:00am so instead of waiting around in a cold, and near furniture-less house, we called the cab company back and asked them to reschedule as soon as possible. Of course, in their infinite wisdom, even though I distinctly heard her tell the cab company a few times that she was not at her normal location, but rather at mine, they still sent the cab to her place.

When the cab called from Sarah’s place wondering why we weren’t answering the door, we got everything sorted out, and had a cab at our place about 10 minutes later.

Bad omen #2

We get to the airport, go to check-in and, surprise of surprises, my suitcase is too heavy to take on the plane. In fact, it was so heavy that it was beyond the weight where you just have to pay extra. Oh shit. We run the hell over to Air Canada Cargo (at the other end of the airport, or approximately 1.5 city blocks) to have it weighed and what do they tell us? “You have to go to the ASB office to get the paperwork done first!” Umm, yesterday when I was here, I didn’t need to get any paperwork done before you weigh the damn thing, but being already pissed off and not wanting to deal with anymore bureaucratic bullshit than I am expected to at an airport, I comply.

I run with this suitcase (current weight: 81 lbs; not exactly something I’m enjoying going back and forth with) to the ASB office, write out the sheet of paper that has my Bermuda address and my parents’ address in Canada, and then run the thing back over to the Cargo office so they can weigh it.

Before the guy will roll it on to the huge scale, he makes me open it so he can inspect it. Great, I have a large suitcase, with enough clothes and other goods that I should have booked a Maersk line ship, and you want me to open it so you can rummage through my pristinely packed clothing to make sure I’m not posing some kind of threat?

Fine. Be my guest. Not that you couldn’t just run it through the x-ray machine located mere inches from where we’re standing, but fine. We now have nearly the entire contents of my suitcase on the table, and he says “Ok, you’re good. Pack it back up.” “Can I get a hand?” “No.” *sigh* Now I get the honor of getting to repack my suitcase, by myself, in a dirty warehouse, while you sit and watch. Your customer service skills are outstanding pal. I can’t see why you drive a forklift for a living.

So I finally get my suitcase packed back up, although it’s bulging more than it did when I had more than a few minutes to arrange everything, and we roll it over to the scale. 81 pounds. He marks it down on the sheet, and tells me to go back to ASB to pay.

What? You mean, the tag that the guy at the check in line that reads “81 lbs.” was just for funsies? Was he just practicing his cursive for his grade 3 English test? Christ, the dude weighed it already, and you’ve made me run back and fucking forth with it, just so that you can re-weigh it? This, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact reason why people hate flying. The endless red tape for a process that should be silky smooth.

It’s OK, Justin. Just breathe. *deep breath* OK, I’m good.

I get back to the ASB office, getting more and more frantic as the seconds tick by, hoping that God or Allah or Buddah or whoever’s up there will show me the slightest bit of sympathy and not make me miss my plane during the Luggage Debacle of ’07. Total cost to ship single suitcase? $205.25

Imagine, if you will, that I am a cartoon character. A cartoon character with a jaw 30 feet long. Now imagine that jaw being dropped from outer space.

I was here just yesterday to ship my computer (full size tower), 19″ LCD monitor, rollerblade, and camera tripod. Price to ship all 4 items? $210.65 Now you’re telling me that 1 item is going cost almost as much?

Whatever. Just do it. I’m sick and tired of moving already and I haven’t even left yet.

Obviously at this point, I’m running out of energy. We pay the woman (which reminds me, they don’t take bank cards, so I was forced to run halfway across the airport again to hit a bank machine) the cash, and looking quite defeated, we walk back to the main terminal where I sat down with Sarah and drank half an iced tea, before getting up, walking through security, and to gate A of Bermuda International Airport, where I boarded my flight almost exactly 2 hours ago, and stood in the last building in Bermuda I will ever occupy.

The flight has been rather uneventful so far, with the only “malfunction” being a weird sound coming from one of the starboard (right, right?) engine for about a half second before we had even started moving, but it hasn’t been back since, so it was probably like a piece of paper getting sucked into the turbine or something.

I guess the one good thing about the whole experience this morning is that I have one less bag to retrieve and carry through Toronto. Unfortunately, you go through Canada Customs in Canada, rather than in Bermuda, so you have to get your bags, go through Customs, and then re-check them. Fun.

At any rate, I have had to pee for the last 4 hours, and am now just remembering, so I shall leave you for now, and will probably be writing another post once I land in Toronto, or if not there, then once I land in Winnipeg.

Bon voyage!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *