I had a fabulous four days for Easter in Savannah, GA, visiting my G-ma with my cousin Patrick. He left for LA on the Sunday evening redeye, but I stayed because getting an early morning flight Tuesday was around $400 cheaper than any other day. My flight was scheduled for 7:00 am, and I couldn’t sleep. After having woken up at 3:00, unable to sleep, I got up at 4:50 and received a voicemail from Delta saying my flight was delayed til 7:30. So I took my time doing breakfast, had the taxi woman waited a bit longer, etc. I get to the airport at 6:43, and the check-in machine is like, “nope sorry youre too late” so I freak (my natural reaction to things going badly) and run to the woman and she says, unsympathetically, ”better runnnn!” so I literally sprint, pulling my gym bag on wheels behind me, through security where I exasperatedly tell them Delta has hoodwinked me so that they don’t think I’m a terrorist running to catch a plane and blow it up. I make it to the gate to board with most of the other members of the flight, almost all of whom also received emails and phone calls saying it would be a 7:30, not 7:00 am, departure. Delta CHANGED THEIR MINDS BACK when the plane all of a sudden appeared on time but did not advise any of us…. I am truly baffled at their customer service.
On the airplane back to New York, I didn’t sleep at all, unlike my trip down (where I drooled for two hours in front of strangers). It may be because I’d had coffee (no), but probably because I was seated directly in front of the most garrulous child I have ever encountered in life. On Earth. Ever. It was like stream of consciousness emanating from this girl to what must have been her mom : “Why are we on a plane? What is that? No, that! Ok well what’s that? And that? Why is the captain on the loudspeaker? Why are there windows on this plane? What are they for? Why is it bumpy? Where are we going? Why is the sun bright?” When she wasn’t asking questions she was trying to explain to her mother the intricacies of why people do things. Why people are pilots, for example…. for five straight minutes, I think without breathing. She gave a running commentary of the taxi and take-off, also.
Then when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the child simply declares, “KICKING!” and kicks my seat for no discernible reason at all, completely unaware that I am sitting there. At one point her mother, echoing my thoughts in a much calmer manner, said, “So many questions, just so many. So many questions.”
Once I land, I board the M60 bus to Manhattan. There was this obese woman who was just standing in the middle of the aisle— to be fair, the bus was crowded— but people tried to get past her voluminous ass and/or stomach to move down so the new people entering the bus could actually get on, and she started saying out loud, “Why does everyone keep touching me to get past? Why is every person that passes touching my belly? These aisles are so narrow!!! There’s no room! They’re so narrow! Jesus Christ.” and on and on, and I wanted to say (the whole bus was thinking this), it’s not because the bus is small… it’s because you’re fat. I was second-hand embarrassed for her because she was just calling herself out and somehow had no idea. How can you be so blatantly and hyper-unaware of your size when a bus aisle is not big enough for you, an individual person?
However despite all this, Georgia was awesome, and a nice sojourn to summery weather, giving me something to look forward to come summer in NYC (although I had to remind myself that Savannah would never smell of subway urine). Once I get my camera back from kickball teammate Joe, who was Team Photographer last Thursday, photos of Savannah and Bonaventure Cemetary will be up!
