The Trip – Part I

I know, I know – here it comes.  The long winded blah blah blah about my vacation.

It’s my blog, mmm’kay?  Deal with it.

OK, so, the trip started off sucky as hell.  We were supposed to leave home sometime Friday afternoon and make the four hour trek to a city with a half ass reputable airport, where we would spend the night in a couple of free hotel rooms we’d be given because we fucking rock, and catch our flight to Vegas first thing in the morning.

Not. So. Much.  I didn’t get off work until about 8pm.  A half hour commute and 15 more minutes of last minute packing later, and we were on the road shortly before 9.  I slept.  He drove.  He was pissy when we arrived because apparently a four hour drive “alone” in the dark is not fun.

We got up the next morning shortly after four.  Four. Freaking. A. M.  Four in the damn MORNING – to high tail it over to the airport and catch our flight.  Only, we found ourselves standing in the never ending line at about 6:30, when an announcement came over the speaker informing us that we would not be getting to Vegas before the next morning.

Something about hydraulics.  And failure.  And planes full.  And wah wah wah wah wah because all I could hear was “No Prince.  You did it for nothing, baby.  You spent the money, you left your family, you’re not going to see Prince anyway…. you did it for nothing.”  I think at that moment I heard what it sounds like When Doves Cry… and it was sad.

I tried to hold myself together as I imagined having to tell everyone in the entire world that I did not, in fact, go see Prince.  I tried to swallow my disappointment, and the embarrassment at letting myself get so worked up about a stupid concert that I wasn’t going to get to see.  Too good to be true.  Too good to be true.

In.  Out.  Breathe.  Think.

Action.  I flipped open my cell phone and began dialing everyone I could think of that would have instant access to the Internet and a travel web site, as I simultaneously made my way over to another airline counter – one of only three in this rink dink fucking airport.  As I stood in line, listening to Avi’s voice mail, an airline rep came over to tell us all that “Vegas trips are full, you are not getting out of here today to Vegas”.

The fuck. I’m. Not.

Back to the cell phone.  Frantic 6:30 phone call to my boss.  Please, please god let your workaholic ass be awake.  And next to your computer.  No computer access… but he was awake enough to give me the number to his travel agent.  Without a second thought, I place the call that I am confident will drag a stranger from bed on a Saturday morning.

I must. See. Prince.

No flights out of this airport.  Period.  I mentally begin to scan my options and the list of other airports in a 2 hour radius of here.  I explain that I HAVE to get to Vegas by 10pm tonight.  Have. To.  I will drive to another airport.  I will shell out the remaining cash in my account.  Have. To. Get there.  Make it happen, baby.

She hangs up and begins her round of calls, and I see an opening at another ticket counter.  I’m one person away from the front desk of my current line.

“Honey.  Run over to Southwest.  One more time.  Just in case.  Just… see….”

Five minutes later, as I’m back on the phone with the travel agent, reading my credit card and preparing to drive an hour to another airport, my husband comes running up to me, gasping for air.


Seven seats.  There were six in our party.  Seven seats, and we’d get into Vegas before noon.  We have to book now, in the next ten minutes.  Have to book now.  $1800.  eighteen hundred dollars in addition to what we’ve already paid.  Have to.  Book now.  Ma’am?  Ma’am?  Book the tickets, ma’am?

I’m one person away from speaking to an agent from my original airline and now cancelled flight.

“Can you give me ten minutes?  Just hold my reservation for ten minutes?”

And in the next ten minutes, I inform my original ticket agent that we have found a new flight and please oh please oh please God will they transfer the tickets?  And quickly?  Yes I know you don’t normally do that and yes I know Southwest doesn’t normally accept your tickets, but ma’am, it’s important.  It’s vital.  And thank you, God bless you.  And please oh please god tell me that this is all going to work out??

And… it did.  We arrived in Vegas exactly one hour later than originally scheduled.  And it didn’t cost me an extra dime.  And I did, indeed, get to see Prince.

But that’s for tomorrow’s post.

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