Ah, the joys of traveling for a living. Today I had to be at the airport extra early to make my 5:20am flight to Houston. Jim McHugh was once again kind enough to take me to the airport, but the trick was getting to his house at 3:30am. Oversleeping is a constant fear.
This is one place I can’t afford even one mistake. If I missed a plane, I’d have to believe I’d be fired for sure. I’m sure it’s been done before, but I don’t want to have to find out on a firsthand basis what any consequences would be. So far, I haven’t blown it yet. So far.
Today was no different, even though I had a hard time finding an open gas station to fill up the rental car. That’s another quirky little thing about travel that isn’t in any brochures. It took about fifteen minutes of hectic searching to find an open station, but I did find one.
Jim dropped me off at O’Hare and I had to go through my favorite pastime of security. I know most of the guards by face now, but they still make me do chimp tricks to pass their little tests. I’m trying not to let it all bother me, but sometimes it still does. Today was ok.
What bothered me was getting to my row and discovering I had the middle seat next to the fat lady from the circus freak show. She had a big frown and a bigger fanny and I saw I’d be in for some rough flying having to squeeze in next to that for three hours. Of all the people on the plane, I had to be the one to draw Sisquatch in the pick-a-seat lottery game.
She was asleep, and the guy in the aisle seat who was no string bean himself gave me a knowing glance of “YOU’RE the biggest loser” as I slid past him and into what was left of my seat. Not only did blobbish flank dangle into my area, she smelled like the business end of a compost heap. I had to sit the whole flight with my arms folded across my chest.
By the time we landed, I couldn’t wait to get off the plane but of course we were way in back, and it was another several agonizing minutes before I could finally liberate all my olfactory glands from her funky onslaught. She also had a fuzzy mustache and a nice ripe wart on her cheek to complete the picture. And how was YOUR commute to work today?
I made my connecting flight from Houston to Belize City, and had to once again wait in line to go through customs. It seems like I just did that, as it all runs together after doing it so often. It’s all a game, and I’m learning to shut up and let it play out. Still, it’s a hassle.
Getting to the ship from the Belize City airport is a pretty long scoot. I had a cab driver who gave me a wonderful fact filled tour of the whole country which was interesting, but he also gave me a thrill ride because he had on the thickest pair of bifocals I’ve ever seen.
The guy was a sweetheart but he looked like a Caribbean version of Dustin Hoffman in Papillon and when he got into the city I thought he would kill us both. He stomped on his brakes like he was crushing grapes for wine, and his mirrors nicked quite a few people in the streets as we drove. We finally made it to the ship, and I couldn’t have been happier.
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