Starting Over?

I am writing this at approximately 36,000 feet above sea-level. Local time is now 9:13pm. Where is local time, you ask? Good question, it is located just outside of the city of Miami, Florida. Well, that is a little strange, considering I live in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, which is nowhere near Florida. It is especially strange when one considers that my travel plans did not remotely include Florida. The closest I was to be to Florida was actually San Juan, Puerto Rico. In fact, I was due to land in Chicago at 5:46pm (local time).

OK, I’ll admit I have been remiss in writing about the exciting things that have happened since exams ended on Friday. I will get to those in a future entry (with pictures), which include crab-racing and snorkeling and Cuban cigars and Carib, but first, my travels.

They began this morning around 5:03am. This is when I woke up in order to get my ride to the airport. My itinerary was simple: Grenada to San Juan, San Juan to Chicago. What transpired was anything but. As the last three people in line at Grenada’s ever-bustling international thoroughfare, my two friends and I were informed that we would be placed on standby, ostensibly due to weight restrictions. I was thinking that I had slimmed down a little over the semester, what with the healthiness of the rotis and tuna fish I had been consuming. It turns out, this is what American Airlines says when they want to shift the blame for screwing me over.

So, what really happened? They overbooked the flight. It seems that the vet-students at SGU, who just elevated themselves to the level of the Clinical Skills department, just camp out at the airport overnight with their pets. They have multiple pets, which aren’t allowed, but they do get to bump people from the flights the next day to earn space for their pets. I still don’t understand how it works, but I can say with certainty that the vet-school is not yet accredited, so, joke’s on them.

Now, its AA’s turn to do something really stupid. As we wait for the gate-attendant to determine the remaining seats on board, she radios the cockpit for a final tally. It’s music to my ears as I hear them radio back that there is one extra seat. The fabulous woman has found extra room! I still get to leave!

Haha, just kidding. I don’t get to leave. The attendant on the plane radios back, while we are still standing there waiting for seats on the 7:30am flight, and, I swear to God, says “No, we are going to stick with our on-time departure and leave the extra seat OPEN.” I know it sounds like I am making that up, but it is verbatim from the radio she was using. It was one of the most surreal experiences I have ever had. To the credit of the woman working at the airport, she argued with him and he flatly refused to reopen the doors. So, we were stuck.

It is at this point I would like to refresh everyone’s memory of Barbados International Airport. This is where I spent 12 hours waiting for a flight the next morning, in the open air. So, one can guess where I was about to be “involuntarily redirected”, according to my new flight plan. The three of us were now routed through Barbados, to Miami, and to our various final destinations. What could be better than a new flight plan? That’s right kids, a six hour layover in the Barbados International (and still open-air) Airport, where it was raining.

So, I ended up in Barbados, with one healthy friend and one who has developed some severe intestinal-difficulties, as it were. After six uneventful hours of sleeping on the ground (in an open-air airport, with occasional rain), we were allowed to re-check our bags (traveling from Grenada to Barbados is international so we needed to go through customs for the second time that morning), and finally board our flight to Miami. This was, surprisingly, uneventful, despite the increasingly powerful nature of the aforementioned intestinal difficulties.

When we get to Miami, we only have to wait about twenty minutes for our gate to open, as we were early and seemingly punished for that fact. It was then onto customs, again, which was starting to become fun and enjoyable, and by fun and enjoyable, I mean excruciatingly painful. And all this leaves me 36,000 feet over the good ole’ USA, on my way to Chicago, where I am happy to be at this point.

I’ve compiled a list of fun facts that I’d like to share regarding my day, fashioned after the Harper’s Index:

- Number of dogs currently barking in the seat directly behind me: 1.

- Number of babies who cry every time the dog barks: 2.

- Number of times I have been gone through security checkpoints and needed to remove my laptop from my backpack: 4.

- Number of different customs agents with whom I have interacted today: 7.

- Number of conversations I’ve had with family members who were planning on picking me up around 6:00pm in Chicago: 0.

- Ability of my cell-phone working to assist in said conversations: 0%.

- Number of times I’d like to use the phrase “as it were” in this post (including this instance, as it were): 4.

- Flights that included a meal on my original itinerary: 2.

- Flights that included a meal on my “involuntary redirect”: 0.

- Flights on redirect that had snacks available for purchase: 1, and finally,

- Number of times I have needed to respectively collect and re-check my luggage: 4, 4 (but I’m hoping against hope that there is a fifth collection, i.e., in Chicago).

Once I get the pictures sorted, there will be dodge-ball, crab-racing, snorkeling home-cooked dinner at the professor’s house and other fun things, but right now I have decide whether to watch another crappy episode of Two and a Half Men or contemplate ways to end the dog’s misery (and by end, I mean put beyond the ability of the vet-students, as it were).