Hurricane I

Here's my problem:

I can neither blog from work, nor can I blog about work. This leaves very little left to blog about. There is plenty I would like to say, but it just can't happen. IM me, we'll chat. Or, depending on how annoying the Tour Monkeys are being that day, I'll ignore you and feel bad about that later.

*****
That being said, tonight I both sat in and stepped in my dinner. It was a bowl of spagetti. I am a special girl.

Maybe they aren't trying to kill other people. Maybe they're just pissed at the bus system. I know I shouldn't make jokes about such things, and I'm really not. I did have violent thoughts towards the bus system the other day (and massively freaked myself out. I am not a terrorist, I just look like one on my ID).

Again, I have two bus stories, but the former really isn't so much a story. Though my plane was delayed and I think the bus took forever to take me home, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince came out the day before. I finished the book during that trip, which I actually considered a good thing. Take that bus!

India 5, Bus 6

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Alas, Harry Potter does not come out more often. The next opportunity for me to take the bus was the Friday right before the beginning of recess. I should have realized ahead of time that everyone would be trying to leave the city, but I thought I was being smart by having my plane leave at 6, rather than stay at work until 6. False. This was stupid of me.

To get to the BWI Airport from my office, it usually takes between 1 and a half and 2 hours, depending on when I pick up the bus to the airport at the end of the Metro. I allowed three hours to get to the airport. It took four.

I might still have made my plane, had the bitchy Southworst woman let me cut in line, but no, I waited in line like a good girl, and then yes, my plane had left. And thus, I burst into tears at the check-in counter.

You see, there were no more planes to LA that day at all, so instead, I flew to Phoenix, got a hotel for 5 hours and took the earliest flight to LA from there. And I was so stressed from the last week at work, and the four hours in a cramped and air-conditioning deficient bus, and I felt defeated in life. After the check-in counter and security, the Boy had the unfortunate luck to call me to see how things were going, and I kind of flipped out. I made him let me go so I could call my mom and calm down, but you can't so much turn off a nervous breakdown. So I found a corner near the bathroom (not IN the bathroom, as I'm not sitting on the floor of an airport bathroom, no matter my mental state), put myself in it, and tried not to freak out the other passengers as I sobbed to my mother. Fortunately, I was still in my suit, so I didn't look like a wacked-out crack whore coming down, but it was still not pretty.

I had packed one of my stuffed animals in my carryon to use as a pillow on the plane, so after I had calmed down enough to trust myself to not fall over when standing, I carried it around the terminal until my plane arrived. And I bought three chocolate candy bars. Had I been a thumb-sucking child, I've have done that as well. As it was, I was tempted to try it since it seemed so popular with everyone else, but I sort of had my hands full with the luggage and the chocolate and the bear.

Arriving in Phoenix was a little weird, since I recongized the airport but all the band kids were missing. (And no sousaphones appeared out of the luggage turnstyle, nor did cheerleaders leap on top of the sousaphones and ride them around for a while.) Finding a hotel was actually challenging, since no one wanted to give me a room that late at night. I thought about just sleeping at the airport, but that was just pushing the boundaries of looking like a cracked-out whore too far. At the very least, I decided, I'll be a high-priced, cracked-out escort in a hotel room.

Eventually, I made it out to LA and my mother, and then back to DC again where the transit system almost failed me again, but I have good karma, so I made it home okay.

On the Evil Bus That Made Me Miss My Flight, I took advantage of my government propery and wrote the following email on my blackberry:

So I'm flying out to LA today. I also have to work today. I thought about taking a cab from work, but they don't pay me THAT much, and the Metro works fine.

But I forgot how much the bus hates me.

Granted, I didn't leave when I wanted to leave because I had to, you know, work. But I stll could have made it, had the bus come on time. Since I'm writing from my blacberry about how much the bus hates me, it should be obvious that it didn't.

Since the bus didn't come, the one after it is PACKED. The ride from the metro to BWI is about 45 minutes on a good day, and its raining, and now I'm sitting on the floor in the aisle, becoming more and more uncertain about making my 6:30 flight.

As of right now, I jave half an hour to get there, check in, and get through security.

At least my iPod came yesterday. I can at least hate the bus while listening to good music.

-IRMcK

I think I'm flashing people. I'm still in my work skirt.

Bus 7, India 5

(I almost gave the bus some bonus points because it kicked my ass so completely, but I decided to go by the American System where an almost win counts as much as a blow-out.)

Background:
Someday Soon The Bus Will Be My Beeyotch

The Long Awaited Bus Story

India v. The Bus Background

Bus story coming soon. Here's a little something to tide you over.

Witnesseth.

Hat Tip: My sister.

I am on vacation. I spent a fabulous week with 300 teenagers from my church, and I feel fantastic. My blackberry had no service, my cell phone had little service, and it was wonderful. I now get about 48 hours with my beloved family before I have to fly back, so forgive me if I'm not attached to the computer. And I haven't turned the blackberry on. And it is wonderful.

Upon my return, there is a bus story. (Hopefully not more than one... I arrive at BWI at 2am on Tuesday morning, so I'm not going to be in a mood to fight with the bus or the Supershuttle people. Please, please, let there be only one bus story...)