TheMommyBlog

Saturday, August 16, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Our Holiday Curse, Travel

I just turned forty. Actually, I have been forty for fifteen hours already in China, but if I think about that for too long I’ll start dividing by zero and then the world will implode.

We arrived home a little while ago from Beijing after 30 hours of traveling by bus, air, car, and the seat of our pants. Not even the couple that flew with us to within fifty miles of our destination know what a Benny Hill episode it turned out to be. Sure, there were twelve terrific hours in the air in business class from Beijing, but the eighteen that followed courtesy of United Airlines Domestic sucked ass. I won’t go into gory details until later, so here are the highlights before I melt into my pillows:

• First leg: Awesome! Hot nuts, fillet mignon, endless libations, snuggly pillows and warm blankies.
• Cleared customs in San Francisco without a hitch!
• We were FIFTY MILES from home, but had to continue through L.A. to honor the itinerary (please, we looked for every possible loophole) before going home.
• Tried to get on the connecting flight to L.A. with one excruciatingly expensive bottle of duty-free 1995 Bordeaux and were told that it didn’t matter that we were given it to carry on board the flight from China and already checked our bags through to L.A., we were not allowed to carry it through security. It would have to go into our bags, which were already checked. Security invited us to drink the wine there (alors!) or give it up.
• Optionally, Phil could run to the check in area and see if they could box it and check it as baggage. In the end, they made him throw it away, and we had to sprint (separately) to the gate. They only held it for us because we were in first class, and I am not kidding when I say that my hair was nearly caught in the door as it was closing.
• Upon arrival in L.A., I was waved toward baggage claim while others stumbled toward connecting gates, but screeched to a halt before making a wrong turn. Alas, I had already stepped on the RED LINE dividing departure gates from the rest of the functional universe and was not allowed back in. Technically, only one foot violated the RED LINE, but RULES ARE RULES and they insisted that I had to now exit the airport via baggage claim and re-enter via check in and go through security again because I stepped on the RED LINE. I was ready to ride that argument all the way to jail, I swear to puppies, I was. It was like a scene from Silkwood. I was contaminated, and my transgression prohibited me from any contact with the inside of the concourse. Our friends were five feet away from me, trying for an alarmed and disappointed goodbye hug, but they were physically prevented from touching me. And then, as I refused to be separated, they threw Phil out along with me.
• That argument lasted just long enough for us to miss our connecting flight. We were put on standby for the next one in four hours, and then didn’t make that one either. However, our bags did.
• Once we realized that the standby list was just being rolled over and over into later flights and that there was no way out tonight, we rented a car and DROVE the last 350 miles from L.A. and thenpicked up our bags at the San Jose Airport. Did I mention that only three were there because one arrived in L.A. seven hours later than its companions? And didn’t get on the standby? They’ll deliver it tomorrow. We hope.

So now we’re home, and the house is hot as balls from being closed up for a week, I had to take a defibrillator to my computer to get it going after such a long time untouched, and there were one hundred twelve unread messages in my inbox.

I was ridiculously happy to have a shower as soon as we got home, and stepped out at exactly midnight to find Phil waiting with a crystal goblet. “Happy Birthday. Cent’anni!”