apropos of anything

Yesterday on my way home from Chicago, my flight was delayed due to a maintenance problem in Atlanta. This was after I just barely missed getting on an earlier flight. (The gate employee wouldn’t let me switch flights because I’d checked bags for my original one, and the check-in employee didn’t mention there was room on an earlier flight, as I had become accustomed to when I used to fly United, courtesy of my 30 percent corporate discount that is no more, thanks AOL!).)

And then there was this thing about forgetting that I was on-call and because of the delayed flight would be in the air AFTER normal office hours rather than before and so would have to expect PSES would do the normal post-office-hour thing, which is to page the on-call (ME) while I was 37,000 feet above the ground with my pager turned off. Of course I did get paged and thankfully I work with good people, and Ken covered for me.

And then there was this thing about my parents and their need to find something to be upset about every time I take a trip without them, so there was yelling and me feeling horrible, as is the custom in our family. While that was happening, there was this thing where I had to WALK TO BAGGAGE CLAIM because otherwise all the other people in Hartsfield Airport would hear my end of the conversation that I was having with my mother who did not appear to care that I was very late and also unnerved by the whole being on-call thing.

And then there was this thing where I was supposed to call Dan and AM when I landed because AM didn’t want me to take MARTA, but since everything was so late and I was getting a little snotty, I decided not to wake them up and to take the train instead.

And then there was this thing where I was trying to zip my laptop bag, and both it and my suitcase slipped out of my hands and went bouncing down the escalator, crashing into some poor (but VERY KIND) woman in a red coat, almost knocking HER suitcase down the escalator as well, had it not been for some (VERY KIND) man who caught it.

And then there was this thing where I started crying at the MARTA station, but only before I got on the train because of course then people WOULD SEE ME.

And then there was this thing where I didn’t pay attention to the North Avenue MARTA station, which is tricky because you have to come out the right end, otherwise you’ll wind up in the bottom floor of the BellSouth building rather than on North Avenue like you wanted to be. So, I had to walk around in the block in the dark and cold, but I did not get mugged, even though I was carrying a suitcase, and a laptop, and a digital camera, and several hundred dollars worth of jewelry. Not even one potential mugging!

(Really, Anne-Marie. Nary a mugger in sight!)

And then there was this thing where the concierge at Aasif’s apartment complex told me there was NO ELEVATOR to the sixth floor of the deck where my car was parked, so I would have to TAKE THE STAIRS with my massive suitcase. But then she let me leave the suitcase with her while I went to get the car, so yay, Concierge Lady!

And then there was this thing where I went home. Finally.