When I got to my gate I was happy to see that, thanks to the system wide delays, I had about an hour before my next flight. So I grabbed a Blimpie sandwich and some water. To my surprise, this was one of the cheapest meals I’d ever gotten in an airport at about $6.50. This was much unlike the time I spent in Miami which, despite being a huge airport, had very little to offer in the way of food. A sandwich and iced tea at a Starbuck’s there set me back nearly $10.00.
Both flights were on significantly larger planes. A 747 for the flight to Atlanta and a 767 for the flight to NYC. Still the plane back to NYC was not large enough to avoid a rude German tourist. This would be my second encounter with those who are known around the world as the rudest travelers. Yes, that’s right, American’s are second. The first incident happened back in the hotel the day before. A man actually used his wife as a shield to push his way into the elevator.
This time while getting off the plane in NYC, as I was trying to get my bag from the overhead, I was pushed. It was this German woman who had been surly thru the flight. I never understood folks who push and shove to get off of a plane. I mean, there are rows and rows of others who need to get their bags and make their way up the thin aisles and out the only tiny door. The fact that this woman was German only helped to clinch a stereotype. She would have pissed me off even if she was a cute Asian girl (yes, it’s a running theme in my life).
The Plane to the Train to the Train to the Bus
Once I got over trying to yell at that rude woman, I made my way to the Air Train. Although I’m still thrilled to not have any checked bags but I really wish I had brought a rollaway bag. Trying to manage my backpack with my still raw, burnt shoulders and back was not fun. Luckily there was more standing around than walking involved with my trek home.
On the ‘A’ train, we were all entertained by a group of kids who got on with a boombox the size of Cleveland. The yelled, “Showtime folks! Showtime!” and proceeded to dazzle us with amazing old-school break dancing and a few awesome back, side and front flips. With no hands! “It ain’t easy on a moving train,” one of them said. I thought to myself hell, that ain’t easy on steady ground with wires and a trampoline.
My whirlwind weekend was over and I was back in my apartment. For the next few days I’ll be nursing my sunburn and peeling off dead hide by the yard. Or so it would seem. I’m so glad that Helen told me about the trip and that I was in a place in my life to afford it. Not just afford it money-wise, but time-wise and spirit-wise too. As time rolls on and difficulties pop up, it’s weekends like this that reassure me that I’ve made the right decision to live my life the way I am.
