Well I am finally on US soil. The trip was great and fairly quick over the lush Atlantic. Naps, food and Shrek 3 made time fly. There was tearful good-bye from really one of the greatest groups of students in summer history.
JFK itself is a cluster fuck. I arrived at the Delta terminal to find a line in an unairconditioned hall way for the elevator that leads you to the real cluster of check in. From the kiosk to find out that my flight was delayed, to the line to check in my baggage to then the other line to drop off my baggage, to then security and finally the last gate. After waiting for an hour, the gate was changed from 29 to 2 to 21.
Hopefully, Gil made it to Atlanta and did a little matchmaking for me with an attractive chatty fellow that we met as we waited together.
At this moment I am minutes from boarding my flight to Tampa, so I can catch a tram to the baggage claim then meet friends that are taking me home. Home what a lovely relaxing thought at the moment.
It is now 9:28PM and I am still at the airport. After another series of delays, they announced that some thingamagig on the plane is broken. It is something that makes the aircraft turn and without it the plane will only be able to go straight ahead. Now I am not a pilot or anything and there is a level of delirium at play at this point but I just need to go straight. I mean I can draw a fairly straight line from New York to Tampa on a map, so what is the problem? It seems like they will find us a new plane but in the meantime I need to find something to poke my eyes out with since the airport is blaring the Cranberries full album over the loud speaker.
Well it is 4:41 AM and I just got home. A new plane was found at 10, we boarded at 10:30, we were suppose to take off at 11. Instead, we sat on the runway until 1:30 and then took off. But don't worry the gave us a granola bar so all is good. Sigh.