stevenpiziks: (Ireland)
stevenpiziks ([personal profile] stevenpiziks) wrote2008-07-09 09:37 pm
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Ireland Journal--Monday (Journey Home and a Pudgy Princess)


Monday

Got up at 5:00 for a 9:30 flight.  Gah!  Showered quickly, finished packing, and ate a breakfast of tea and rolls I’d bought yesterday.  Brought everything downstairs and found Alan still working.  He was on a twelve-hour shift.  Checked out, bid Alan good-bye (“Cheers!” he said), and headed out.

Rolled my luggage down to O’Connell Street’s bus stop in plenty of time to catch the 747 shuttle to the airport.  No troubles in security, which is much easier to deal with in Ireland than in America, and I spent my last Euros on a book and some food.  Now I’m sitting at the departure gate, updating this journal and waiting for my flight home.

The flight to New York went all right.  I did something I haven’t done in years--read an entire book in one day.  The ten-year-old girl sitting next to me, though . . . I was about ready to depressurize her.  The girl had no idea of boundaries.  Whenever she did something in her seat, she elbowed me or pressed her arm against me.  Her feet wandered into my floor space.  She jostled and bumped me every few minutes.  It wasn’t malicious, it was just careless, not paying attention to the space of the people around her.  I’m sure she was someone’s pudgy princess, but she certainly wasn’t mine.  I thought about saying something to her mother, except I couldn’t think of a way to say anything without coming across as snide or pissy.  So I started defending myself instead.  When she bumped me, I pushed back.  If her feet stepped over into my territory, I trod on her toes.  If she leaned against me, I poked her.  This strategy seemed to work, and it had the additional advantage of giving me something to do.

We landed in New York at JFK, and I discovered two things: 1) My checked luggage wasn’t being sent on ahead of me--I had to claim it, bring it to a Delta desk, and have it sent on; and 2) I had to go through security again.

The first was a minor annoyance.  Actually, it reassured me that my suitcase had arrived properly and had a greater chance of heading to Detroit.

The second pissed me off, majorly.  I’d already done this.  I’d already gone through the lines, I had already dealt with questions.  Not only that, I had a layover of over four hours in New York.  I have friends in New York.  I had more than enough time to leave the airport, meet someone someplace for lunch or something, and get back to the airport in time for my flight out.  But I didn’t make any arrangements for this sort of thing.  Why?  Because I didn’t want to go through security again.  Now I find out I had to run the security gamut it anyway, and I could have spent a chunk of the four hours in friendly company instead of in a stupid airport.

I staked out a spot in the Delta waiting area near a wall outlet, plugged my laptop in to recharge it, and alternated between reading and watching videos until my flight was called.  Five flights on smaller planes were called all at once through the same gate, for some idiotic reason, creating an enormous line and a certain amount of confusion.  (“Which plane is for Detroit?  That one?  Can you speak up--it’s loud out here on the tarmac!”) And then we waited on the runway for over an hour before our turn for takeoff came.  Geez!

But I landed safely in Detroit, and my luggage arrived when I did.  Kala picked me up, and I found myself sitting on the right side of a car but with no steering wheel in front of me.

Whoa!  Hot, muggy weather!  Sun!  And people with suntans!  I didn’t realize until I got back how untanned people in Ireland were until I saw Michiganders with summer tans.  A small bit of culture shock.

The boys were all excited to see me.  Sam the Dog was excited to see me.  The cats ignored me.  And now I’m home.