Fourscore and Seven Blogs Ago

I’m standing in a tiny bathroom, smoking a cigarette and listening to the vicious tattoo of rain assaulting the skylight above my head. It wasn’t my first location choice for imbibing in a forbidden pleasure. I had retreated from my initial perch moments earlier after haphazard deliberation in regard to my proximity to the metal siding, metal chair, metal table and metal awning.

Perhaps imbibing isn’t the correct word, although my lungs were merrily absorbing the nefarious carcinogens coming from the cigarette handing out of my mouth. I quit the smoking habit in October of 2007 but in some cases needs must; it was the choice of a cigarette or three fingers of scotch.

Airline: a simple word that misguides. An airline is a company that flies airplanes to transport people, goods and viruses. What they don’t tell you is that airlines also enjoy volleying you from place to place when one attempts to put in a claim for lost or damaged goods.

I love to travel. I love the smell of jet fuel in the morning. I loathe taking off and landing in any sort of craft. This sometimes makes me a rather useless CAP scanner: “Wheels up! Oh shit, I forgot to denote the time!”

I do not love airlines that muck with my baggage, destroying it in the process. Observe:
I had very short notice in regard to this trip, thus I stuffed a few shirts and shorts into a small bag and ran out the door. Proper luggage would be a chore to herd through the terminals. I did not have travel insurance, This is the first time that I have commercially traveled without it, but this ticket was a gift from my aunt, and she is an absolute blessing. All these years of flying, why bother with insurance?

Socks are essential to life. Mine are somewhere in Dallas/Fort Worth. They might be entertaining my sunglasses as we speak. They could be in the belly of the beast or, more than likely, they are strewn about the terminal’s bowels, articles orphaned by poor planning and someone with a very bad temper.

Our flight was delayed by an hour due to poor planning – the need to remove the baggage and reload it properly. We heard the luggage being thrown about. The deep thrumming and banging rumbled through our seats, an eerie sound that no one should hear coming from a fuselage. The wings bobbed from the effort, the nacelles making the movement seem more drastic than it truly was. We seemed to roll ever so slightly with each bang. It would be fitting to add that, as we taxied from the terminal, a passenger pointed out a lone green bag forlornly waving to us as the wind played with its luggage tag.

This brings me back to the storm and smoking: needs must.

I had little difficulty sorting the damaged luggage issue: the company has confirmed that my bag should be set on fire and then shot. My problem is that I had to follow up on that claim by contacting the damn airlines. We played “guess the extension” for nearly an hour, followed by a light lunch and drinks before being punted back to “you guessed the correct extension, here is a recorded message, goodbye CLICK”.

My sunglasses are a lost cause. I will replace the socks.