Four Hours in Las Vegas (Airport)

22 12 2009

I have been traveling all day. And I’ve been having some pretty terrible travel luck. Perhaps my complaints about Aruba made for bad travel karma? Let’s recap the course of events…

I had a pleasant afternoon of packing yesterday. Having resigned myself to checking a bag, I went for the big suitcase, and stuffed it to the brim, though only (please be impressed) half with clothes. The key to traveling home, I learned over the summer, is to travel bearing gifts. Items that stay there make for room in the suitcase on the way back, fruitful for shopping trips to stores we don’t have in New York (Nordstrom, Ambiance…) or simply taking advantage of errand-running with a car. At any rate, yesterday I took my time, mapped out a few options for Christmas outfits, and filled my roomy suitcase, all to alternating Christmas songs and Gilmore Girls reruns.

Last night, I braved the cold and met up with Libby (and later Tiffany) for some yuletide, er… beers at McSorley’s before heading out. While warming near the ancient stove, I tried umpteen times to call my favorite Brooklyn car service, Arecibo, to no avail, but finally managed to book my car online. I was home by 12:30 am, in time to do some final cleaning and double check with Arecibo, who assured me that a 7:30 am pick-up would be plenty of time to get to JFK by 8:00. (Note to self: do not listen to the guy on the phone.)

Monday morning, 7:00 am. I wake, dress, and proceed with my morning routine, beyond excited that it’s finally the day I’ll be going home. Monday morning, 7:30 am. I am standing in the entryway to my building, waiting for my car. The minutes drip by. I call Arecibo, and no one picks up. I call, again and again, with alternating results of busy signals and no answer. I call Mexicana cab, who answers and puts me on hold. I wait two minutes, then hang up, call back, finally get through and beg not to be placed on hold. I’m told a car will be to me in five minutes.

Monday, 7:45 am. A car with a Mexican cab drives past my building but doesn’t slow, and is turning the corner by the time I am able to get out of the building, realizing, as the door slams behind me, that my keys are in my bag, insside the locked building door. In my only stroke of luck that morning, another tenant leave the building a minute later, thereby letting me back in, to stand and wait some more. More phone calls. More waiting.

Monday morning, 8:00 am (the time I wanted to be at the airport to make my 9:30 am flight). I’m on the phone, after being placed on hold, again, with Mexicana cab, begging for a car, when the Arecibo driver rolls up. She stops, and the two of us have to hoist my massive, book-laden suitcase over the giant snowbank that is my sidewalk. I clamber into the cab with wet feet and try some deep breathing.

We arrive at the airport at 8:50 am (the woman at Virgin has told me during my frantic call to her from the cab that the gates close a half hour before the flight is scheduled to depart). I run, stand in line, jump when they make the last call for Las Vegas, apologize humbly when the attendant reprimands me for my tardiness. Lucky for me, security line is short, and I scramble through with plenty of time to spare.

My first flight was uneventful. Thanks to Google’s offering free Wifi on Virgin flights as a special holiday treat, I was able to get a little work done in addition to catching up on my New York Magazine reading. We wait a half hour before taking off since several runways are still blanketed in snow, but still landed in Vegas on time.

I had a two and a half hour layover to start. It’s not 4:30 pm and I’m still in the airport, waiting for my 3:55-scheduled flight to begin boarding. I’ve wandered the Vegas airport twice over, eaten a pretzel, wandered through Brookstone, contemplated trying my luck at the slot machines that checker the airport, but, given my day, I’m guessing that would be a waste of some quarters.

I thought I had evaded the weather delays in New York. Pleasant San Francisco, it seems, has had such bad luck that the entire runway in San Francisco airport has been closed for an hour and a half. And so I sit, contemplating the city that I was so happy to come home to, and the city that I currently loathe. Groan.





List: Musings on a Return to the Real World

11 12 2008

I’ve had such a long stint of silence that it seems only apprpriate to return with a list, a musing on the moving and how it made me a wreck for nearly a month. And thus, thoughts…

  • Movers are fantastic. I went with the “guy with the van” route, or, rather, two guys who ran up and down my four flights of steep stairs with heavy furniture while I sat on the sidewalk and watched the van. They also fixed my couch. All for very cheap. Go movers.
  • Cockroaches are disgusting. One of the realities of living in New York is dealing with pests. You’re not a real New Yorker until you have at least one story of the mice or cockroaches or other disgusting pests that invaded your living space. When I got into my new place I had more roommates than I’d bargained for, which made settling in tough. They are, however, gone now (fingers crossed).
  • Caulking is therapeutic. I spent the first few days in the new place caulking all the spaces between baseboard and floor (and any other hole I could find) to keep the roaches out. There was something oddly pleasant about the whole thing, even though it kept me from unpacking. But hey, if the whole writing thing doesn’t work out, at least I have my back up plan.
  • California is lovely. A trip home for Thanksgiving was a welcome reprieve to the stress of moving. No cockroaches, for one. And then there was good food, great family, and my mother to fuss over me. We took the ferry into San Francisco one day and wandered around my old haunts in North Beach. It was both a thrill and slightly upsetting to see people laying out in Washington Square in late November. Much as I love New York, I won’t lie and say it didn’t have me wanting to stay for more.
  • Christmas is coming. I finally bought my ticket to Colorado for Christmas, and miraculously waiting as long as I did seemed to have helped. It wasn’t cheap, but given I know people who paid upwards of $700 a few months ago, it makes me relieved to think that travel prices may be going down. As for that whole shopping thing, I’ve yet to do it.
  • It’s good to be back. After nearly a month of floundering in moving craziness and travel and playing catch-up, I’m finally back to normal and able to blog again on a regular schedule. Until Christmas…