The Long Way Home

Last summer I traveled to Atlanta for a weekend to surprise my best friend Katie and the newest member of her family, Eli.

(Clearly he was thrilled to meet me!)

At just six weeks old, Eli didn’t do much more than eat and sleep.  And when it was time for him to eat, everything in Katie’s world came to a stop until he was nice and full.  Understanding this, it didn’t bother me at 4:00pm on Sunday that we had to delay our departure for the airport until Eli was finished with his late lunch.  Even at 4:15pm (our ‘at the latest’ departure time) when my little man E was just starting his ‘second helping’, I still didn’t mind. (I mean it was love at first sight with this little guy, of course I didn’t mind sacrificing airport time for him.)  

Anyone that has traveled with me knows how close I like to cut it when it comes to getting to the airport in time, so even as we were pulling out of the driveway at 4:30pm, I still had faith I would be just fine.  It wasn’t until we pulled in to the airport and saw the backed up line of cars that the reality of missing my flight kicked in.

“Umm should I be worried about that?” I asked as Katie hit the brakes.

“No, it’s fine.  I can drop you off at the lower level.  There’s never anyone there,” Katie assured me.  Thankfully Katie knew her stuff.  After a hurried good bye, I rushed to the first available check in kiosk. 

5:40 was my departure time, 5:00 was the latest I could check my bag, 5:08 was the time on the screen.  Crap!

I could either wait 2 hours and take the next flight or carry on my bag and run to my gate.  I went for option #2.  The only obstacle I foresaw were the liquids in my bag.  As a seasoned traveler, I know that the ‘nothing more than 3oz liquid’ rule doesn’t always apply.  It depends on who’s enforcing it.  So I surveyed the eight different x-ray monitors and chose the one who looked like they hated life the most.  And whaddaya know, I made it through; 2 shampoo bottles, contact solution and all!!

On the other side of security, I looked down to see my gate.  E18.  Are you kidding me?!?

For those of you not familiar with Atlanta airport, it sucks.  The terminals are laid out in a straight line.  Please see diagram below.  Reading my boarding pass I was in Terminal T.  Gate E18 is the red dot.  Awesome.

(I couldn’t possibly be further away from my gate if I tried)

Luckily the tram was there as I came down the escalator.  I jumped on and waited for the doors to close.  A solid two minutes went by and the doors were still open.  Finally a voice came over the PA system and let us know there was a delay, but the tram should start shortly.  I didn’t have time to find out how long shortly meant.  So I exited the tram and started speed walking to Terminal A.  As I approached the terminal I saw another tram with its doors open.  Or was this the same tram? Was it working now?  It was worth jumping on to find out, I mean I had almost a mile still to go to gate E18.  A minute went by, nothing.  You’ve got to be kidding.

So once again I exited the tram and started speed walking on to Terminal B.  I should also note that the flip-flops I was wearing had decided that day was a good time to start slicing in to the side of my foot.  So as I was half sprinting from terminal to terminal my shoe was slowly drawing blood.  Which really made the situation better.

I arrived at Terminal B with a bloody foot and dripping in sweat (Atlanta is quite humid in June).  Lo and behold there’s the damn tram again.  In honor of my throbbing foot, I decided to give it one more shot.  Afterall the voice on the PA did say we’d be moving shortly.  So I stepped on to a tram for the third time.  Thankfully after only about 45 seconds the doors finally closed.

I stared at my watch as we slowly made our way to Terminal E.  There’s no way I can make it, I thought to myself.  Even if I sprint, it’s 5:30 already and I’m still on the tram!

There’s absolutely nothing worse than missing a flight by under a minute.  I’d rather miss it by an hour.  At least then I don’t feel like I could’ve just tried a little harder!  To avoid either instance, as soon as the doors opened at Terminal E I broke in to a sprint.  Halfway down the terminal I passed a family of four that was also sprinting.  They must be on my flight. 

As I approached the gate I saw the gate agent lifting the microphone.  Oh no, he’s going to announce the flight’s closed, and OF COURSE it’s the second I get to the gate.

“If you’re running for the Boston flight, you don’t have to.  We’ll wait for you,” he announced to the family of four.

“Why didn’t you announce that as you saw me sprinting down here?!” I asked, highly irritated.

“Because I didn’t think of it until I saw you get here.  I’m a guy, what can I say?  I don’t think.”

“Whatever.  As long as I’m here.”

I got to my seat, way in the back, feeling sorry for the guy who got the seat next to me and all my sweaty greatness.  I settled in and took out the reading I had to finish before work the next day, grateful that I had made it.  I had no idea that would only be the first half of my crazy story for the day!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Getting Out With A Bang!!

Pretty consistently during my career at Cantina I worked double shifts on Sundays.  Sunday was actually my favorite day to work.  It was by far the most profitable…at least the way I did it.  The morning shift was hit or miss, and it was mine to manage.  The second shift manager usually came in at 4:30, but when I was doing doubles my second ‘cocktailing’ shift started at 3:00.  So for an hour and a half I was both the Manager on Duty and the only Cocktail server on duty.  This combination was very stressful and exhausting on those Sundays that were “hit”.

This particular Sunday was one of the stressful ones; after a busy morning in the dining room it was non-stop all night in the bar.  Once all patrons left, all tables were cleared and cleaned, and all monies were counted, I went down to the office to cash out with Darren.

I was so tired and brain-dead that I could barely carry on a conversation with him.  All I could think about was getting home and sleeping.  He said all my numbers matched and I was good to go.  So I said good night and went to leave out the back stairwell.  That is the way I exited Cantina about 90% of the time after my shift.  The door was a little warped and could stick sometimes, but by this point I was pretty familiar with most of the ‘quirks’ of Cantina.

So after I slunk up the stairs, I went to open the door but it was stuck.  I double checked to make sure it was unlocked and tried again.  Still nothing.  What the hell?!?!  I wasn’t going to let this door keep me from my bed so I threw my hip in to it.  Nothing.  Now I was getting mad.  So I started throwing my whole body in to the door trying to get it to budge.

BAM!  BAM! “What the hell is wrong with this stupid door?!?!”  BAM! BAM!

After a little while my hip was starting to get sore so I took a little break.  Darren all the while was just sitting in the office listening to the ridiculousness at the top of the stairs.  When the banging stopped he checked to see if I made it out.

“Caitlin?”

“Yeah?”

...silence...
...silence...

“...pull”

With just the slightest amount of effort, this time I was successful at PULLING the door open.  What a novel idea!

I couldn’t believe my stupidity.  I went back down to the office and laughed uncontrollably with Darren for a solid 5 minutes before catching my breath.  On my way home I was still so embarrassed and giggling so hard that multiple people thought I was crying and asked me if I was okay.  To which I should have responded (if I could’ve stopped laughing long enough to answer) “not in the head I’m not!”