Flying Off the Handle, Part Two

So rewind a few weeks, I'm back in the airport, getting ready to go to DC.

Get on the plane in Boston on US Airways, uneventful ride. Get off the plane, about to ask representative how to get to connecting flight. I hear the woman in front of me ask the same question and find out we're supposed to go to the United terminal, so I decide to follow her. Don't realize she's moving so fast, I can hardly keep up. I lose her while still in the US Airways terminal. I stand in the middle of the terminal looking for signage about United. Don't see any.

I hear a voice coming from somewhere, faintly, saying, "If you're going to United, come this way." I turn to the left and to the right. Nothing. I hear a man say, "Is this the way to United?" and see a door opening behind the US Airways counter. I make a mad dash to the door.

The man and I go down some stairs and suddenly we're on the tarmac. There's a bus pulling away, and we wave our arms frantically until it swings around to get us. We climb aboard. The first image that comes to mind about this bus is that it looks like those prison buses you see in the movies. We're not going to catch a connecting flight, we're all going to jail.

The bus drives for a few minutes, then stops. The driver gets on the phone and then hangs up, telling the passenger right in back of him what was said. I yell from the back of the bus, "The back of the bus can't hear what's going on!" So the message gets passed down like some weird game of Telephone: there's no stairway to the United terminal, and no one is there to open the door for us. The driver was told to drive back to US Airways. Okay, so now we're all looking at our watches and realize that our plane is leaving in 20 minutes. This is not okay. The driver says there's nothing he can do, and starts driving back.

We get back to US Airways, all pile off the bus, and go back inside. Half the group stays behind to complain to representatives, and half of us gather together to discuss what we should do. Someone says, "Let's just go to the sidewalk and take a public bus to the terminal." We all go outside. We don't even know what terminal we're looking for, so half of our now halved group scans the airport map, and half wait for a bus. We get the terminal letter, and wait. I pipe up, "I feel like we're on a reality TV show. Where are the cameras?" Bitter laughter.

After a few mintues of no bus arriving, someone says, "Look, there's a sign that says, 'Walkway to Terminals'. Let's run!" Sounds good to us, we start booking it. I scream, "Let's pretend we're on The Amazing Race!" We are running, some in heels, some with no coats, some with wheelie bags flying behind. It's 32 degrees.

We run, run, run down the walkway in the dark cold night. None of us knows where we're going, we just figure the guys in the front will lead us the right way. They do. We get inside to whatever terminal it is, B or C or something, and discover that we have to go through security again. Our flight leaves in five minutes.

One woman and I talk about how we're going to get compensation for this shit, this is not okay, are you a student? no, I'm a teacher. I go to BU Law. Oh? says someone else, me too. oh? We're doing this as we're removing our shoes and putting our things into the grey bins for security.

Find out what gate we're supposed to go to, run to the gate. Arrive, breathless, panting, gasping for air. No one is at the gate. One man arrives to tell us the flight is late. We are pissed. We are incensed. We are ripshit. We are hungry. I go over to the little store and buy us dinner: cinnamon raisin bagel chips. We pass the bag around. Pose for a group photo. Talk about who to write the letter of complaint to. Hear a rumor that there were actually three groups of people for this flight: one group made it on the first bus and had no problem, our group, and the last group, who stayed behind to complain and probably got compensated.

The flight arrives. We get on and have an uneventful ride, except for the dramatic story I tell the flight attendant to explain why we all look so upset. She suggests writing to both the airport and the airlines.

We arrive in DC. I can't wait to blog.

Oops

So I'm in the store buying Prince's latest cd (on the day it was released, of course), and there's this $10 cd sale. I buy The Beatles #1 hits, and Funk Soul Anthems.

The reason I buy Funk Soul Anthems is because of the first song I see: "One Nation Under a Groove" by Funkadelic. Oh my god, that was one of the hits of my childhood, and I haven't heard it since. Then I see another classic: "Oops Upside Your Head" by the Gap Band.

I bring the cd into school the next day and introduce the kids to some of the funkiest music of the 70's. The one song that caught the kids' attention and made their little butts wiggle the most was "Oops Upside Your Head." Easy lyrics:

Oops, upside your head, I said, oops upside your head...(meaning a slap with an upward motion on the back of the head given when someone has done something foolish)

We're grooving along, the beat is funky, and then I hear the little rap line that comes in I had totally forgotten about:

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To have a little fun
Stupid Jill forgot the pill
And now they have a son!

Oops, upside your head, I said, oops upside your head!

For the rest of the day I made sure to cough or turn the sound down when that part came on. Oops!

Boston Globe

I'm working on Airport, part 2. Until then, check this out:

http://www.boston.com/yourlife/fashion/articles/2006/03/16/visible_ink/

Click through the pictures and you'll see my legs!

Flying off the Handle, Part One

I went to DC from Boston last weekend. Got a cheap flight, which meant I'd have to change planes. No problem. Or so I thought.

The very first thing that went wrong on this trip happened even before I checked in. I looked on my email itinerary and it said United Airlines flight 2667. Operated by US Airways. What the heck does that mean? Do I go to United or US Airways? Two different terminals. Well, the logo and first airline mentioned was United, so I got off at United.

Got to the do-it-yourself check-in, and they wouldn't take my card. I looked again at my itinerary, and there, to the right, it said, "Please check in at US Airways ticket counter." This is why you should get to the airport early. So I went and asked where the US Airways terminal was, and the guy showed me the walkway. I walked to the terminal, checked in, and went to the gate.

At the scanner gate, we all removed our shoes and belts and put our stuff in those grey plastic bins. I was very proud of myself for making it so I wouldn't have to dump loose change, keys, and my cell phone in like everyone else. Nice and concise, my things. Two bags, coat, shoes, belt. All I had on was my jeans, sweater, and scarf.

Went through the scanner doorway, showed the guy my ticket, and proceeded to walk towards my bags. The ticket guy stopped me and said, "Trying to sneak past me, huh?" and then he showed me that if a ticket has an "S" on it, you have been selected to be searched. He showed me the "S" on my ticket. I said nothing, as I know that these days it is not okay to joke about what a preschool teacher could be armed with.

Having been searched two or three times before, I knew the drill. Stand on the mat with the feet imprinted on it, raise your arms. I did as asked, and the woman searching me told me she was just going to check in and around my scarf. She said, "Next time, just take the scarf off, okay?" Again, no jokes. All I could think of was a headline: Mild-mannered preschool teacher hides weapons in polar fleece scarf (scarf lovingly crafted by preschool parent)

Got through, got dressed, and got to the gate with time to spare. Uneventful ride. Got off at NYC's LaGuardia airport, where I had to change planes. And that's where Part Two comes in. To be continued...

AI

Tonight on American Idol last season's winner Carrie Underwood performed her smash hit, "Jesus Take the Wheel." I'm not kidding, that's what the song was called. When I heard Ryan Seacrest say the name of the song I burst out laughing. Come on!

Then she sang the song, and I must say, I was very impressed. She was never one of my faves, but winning has been good for her. She sounds so much better now, and the song itself was not so bad. Until the part when the woman driving the truck slips on a patch of black ice and lets "Jesus take the wheel." Want to know what happens? He takes the wheel, and she doesn't die! Hallelujah!

My friend Tressa called at the commercial and I answered with, "I can't talk, I'm driving." She topped that with, "I sure hope Jesus wasn't drinking tonight!" Every time I think of that line, I burst out laughing. I look like a crazy person sitting in my armchair with my white bathrobe, bursting into laughter for no apparent reason. If you see me doing this, it's because I'm thinking of something funny someone said. Everyone does that, right? Right?

Who's Lovin' You?

So this week on American Idol I thought the women all sucked, except for Lisa Tucker, who not only sounded great but sang one of my favorite songs, "Who's Lovin' You?". I don't know if The Jackson 5 were the first ones to sing it, but their version (really little Michael Jackson) kicks ass.
I got so pumped listening to Lisa Tucker that I got out my J5 CD and played that song over and over. It made me think about Michael Jackson, and how he got from there to where he is today. Started in the J5 when he was something like five years old, and recorded "Who's Lovin' You?" when he was eleven. Boy could sing! Hit all the notes, had some amazing riffs, and seemed like he really felt what he was singing.

(needle scratching record sound) Say what???

Think about it. An elementary-aged kid crooning songs about kissing, love, and heartache...eww! That's messed up. Sometimes the songs seemed okay for a kid to sing, like "Rockin' Robin" and "Dancin' Machine"; those were cute teenybopper songs. One of my favorite lines is from the song, "Sugar Daddy", which sounds sick, but is very catchy, and funny when little Michael belts out, "I'll even let you drive my Caddy, when I get one, Baby!"

When he was a kid he was treated as an adult, and now that he's an adult, all he wants to do is be a kid. I'm not saying it's okay for him to sleep with little kids and give them Jesus Juice. Alls I'm saying is that it's pretty easy to see how MJ got to be where he is, and it's so sad. Such talent! There was too much pressure, and no childhood. If I could get in a time machine, I'd go to Gary, Indiana, and rescue that boy from future Coke pyrotechnic accidents and facial reconstruction. Say what you want about Wacko Jacko; I'm still a fan.