That's not what the Death card means

Visible from 2000 feet
written 2010-06-04 05:29:05

Recording these live as they happen, uploading when a connection is available.

Screw you, Philadelphia International Airport. You should be providing free wi-fi, and you know it. You're just like all the rest, aren't you? Aren't you!?

This is how my trip started.

Okay, not really. Back this puppy up. My trip started when Justin sent out what I'm sure he intended to be a mere formality, a politeness not really meant to become anything actual. An invitation to his (second) wedding, in Bulgaria, ancestral home to the lovely Gergana, in the summer.

And I said, "I'd love to!" Really, why wouldn't I? I've never been to Europe, and the last time I went to a wedding in another country, it was a stone cold blast. (Chris and Mizuki, come and visit soon. Your room is all ready for you.) And I've been working steady and have a good job opportunity coming down the line... a great time to take advantage of my temporary employment status.

So, I booked a flight. You would think, that when one is spending about a grand on international travel for the sole reason of attending a single event, one would be certain about the timing of such an event. Wouldn't one? Well, this one didn't do such a great job -- I somehow convinced myself that the wedding was on a Thursday, and possibly in May... neither of which was true -- so I arranged to fly out of Bulgaria at about the same time that Justin and Gergana would be getting hitched (again). Good job, me! I rebooked, and learned that you never get a refund from either A) Delta, B) any airline, C) international travel, and/or D) really expensive travel. Choose all that apply.

Luckily, traveling Wednesday to Wednesday was a little cheaper than traveling Saturday to Saturday, so that offset some of the "You Were A Dumbass" fee that they charge you when you have to reschedule your trip. I was not offered any such benefit from my travel insurance people. I love customer service.

Then, right when all was looking good, the State Department (the good job opportunity noted above) e-mailed me to let me know I was actually not cool enough to work there. They were vague on details. So, I cried and punched a dog and one of my shoes came off, but after that I was cool. Pfft, State Department. I mean, who wants a job with good benefits and travel and job security? That's crazy talk. (When I re-apply next year, you are not allowed to cite this passage. Violators will be planed.)

That was yesterday. Today I'm in the airport. Things that have happened already today:

  • Delta told me my old, badly scheduled flights were still in effect. (Since resolved, not sure why they thought it would be funny.)
  • My flight was not in Terminal E, as stated, but in Terminal A. You'll note the five terminal distance between the two. I did not have to pass through security again, though, thanks.
  • My flight is overbooked. This might have worked to my benefit, since I could go later and negate some of my layover in Paris, but my options are apparently "tonight" and "tomorrow." Not a lot of wiggle room in there, so I passed on the bump-and-vouch. And since I checked in two hours early, I hope I will not have any issues with getting my seat.
  • This thing with the wi-fi, or rather, the lack of wi-fi. Jerks.

    I have gummy bears and corn nuts and DFW's Infinite Jest, with the inscription from the girl in Milwaukee who moved to Manhattan, I have my laptop and my iPhone (but don't call, I will probably get charged out the wazoo for any use, you could probably text me, though, at $2 per), I have a handkerchief for when I sweat unmerciful, though the air conditioning is pretty fierce in here. I have a wad of American dollars, to reassure me about my personal value as a human being. I have a fear that the cuisine on this trip will actually kill me. I have high hopes. I have faith in the Philadelphia Flyers.

    And I will see you all later.

    --4:56 PM, EDT, Philadelphia, PA, you gotta take the elevator to the mezzanine chump change

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