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sperry · 2005-01-10, 04:02 PM

Well I'm back, and although I'm mentally more centered to deal w/ winter, I'm realizing how much I hate it!

Anyway, here's my story:

Saturday, Jan 1, 2005
Reno, NV; Denver, CO; Dallas/Fort-Worth, TX; New Orleans, LA

Deede and I left Eric's place at about 12:30. Deede graciously offered to drive me to the airport at 6 am on the 1st, so she was going to crash at my place. Instead, she was up most the night vomiting a bottle of wine.

I didn't get to sleep till about 1:30, so getting up at 5 to make sure everything was in order was tough.

After brushing an inch or two of new snow off Deede's car, we got to the airport at about 6:30. I wait in line for about 90 minutes (the airport was a full-on cluster fuck of people trying to get home from new years and the like...) thinking I'm going to mis my flight, but come to find out it's delayed because the O2 regulator for the cockpit is borked. So the flight's grounded until a plane from SFO gets in at 9:30 w/ the part.

So I clear security and kick it in the terminal waiting for the repairs. Since I know I'm missing my 12:30 pm connecting flight in Denver already, I talk w/ the United rep at the counter and they book me on the 6:30 pm flight, putting me into New Orleans at about 10 pm instead of 4 pm. I make some calls to my friends in NO and let them know what's up and figure I'm all set.

At about 10:30 I'm finally airborn. The flight's pretty bumpy 'cause of the weather, but it smoothed out once we got up to about 30k feet. We landed in Denver w/o a problem. I figure I've got a 4 hour layover, so I grab a bite to eat and take my time. I figure I might as well get my boarding pass so I hit the counter and they tell me "no sir, you're booked on the 6:30 pm flight tomorrow." WTF!?! I tell the lady that I've got to be on a cruise ship at 1 pm tomorrow, leaving Denver at 6:30 isn't exactly the best way to make that appointment. She tells me that *every* flight on *all airlines* to NO are booked until that 6:30 pm flight, and that all I can do is come back to the terminal at 6 pm and try to fly standby. Knowing standby is about as likely as getting abducted by aliens that are nice enough to drop be off in NO after the anal probe, I call my friends in NO to let them know what's up (they start checking flight on the internet for me), then bounce to the customer service desk, which is somehow totally empty.

At this point I'm thinking that renting a car and driving from Denver to New Orleans is my best shot to make my ship... so basically I think I'm totally fucked. The woman at the service counter turns out to be *awesome*. She was very helpful and really went to work for me. In conjunction with about 5 phone calls from my friends that were scouring expedia and travelocity, etc, we were able to put together an alternate plan: Denver to Dallas/Fort-Worth at 5:30 pm on Delta, and DFW to NO at 6 am the next day on American, putting me in NO at about 8 am the day of the cruise. So I hop the flight to Dallas.

Now, if you've ever been to DFW, you know it's the worst airport EVAR. It's got 5 terminals, each one is about the size of Reno/Tahoe International. I fly into terminal E. Checking the map (and not realizing how big the airport actually is) I see that American has terminals A and C, and United has B. I figure I'll head over to A to check in for my next flight, then walk to B to get United to pay for a hotel room for me. I hop on the bus to terminal A, and it's like a 15 minute ride on the freeway to get there from terminal E... now I'm realizing how big this place is. I get to the American counter and the guy checking me in is like "actually, we've got a flight leaving to New Orelans at 9:20, if you can get over to C *right now* you can make it." It's like 8:50, but going for it and arriving in NO at 10 pm would certainly be better than having to spend the night in Dallas.

I book the flight and ask the clerk what's the best way to get to C... should I get on the bus again, or just run through the terminals. I guess the guy thought I was in better shape than I'm in, 'cause he told me to go through security in terminal A, then run from A to C and pick up a ride from one of the golf-carts that patrol the terminals.

So I duck into the terminal A security area, and there isn't a single person in line! Jackpot... except guess what, I'm tagged for an "additional security check".

So I get the garret wand slapped on my junk, and have to completely empty my carry-on and go through everything.

I'm finally through security at about 9:05, and I know the flight started boarding like 5 minutes ago so it's Carl Lewis time.

At DFW, each terminal is a half circle, and I'm right in the middle of A. So I have to sprint about 15 gates, which I would guess is like a 1/4 mile. While I'm running I call my friends in NO to let them know I'm trying to make a flight tonight. After running half of terminal A, I hit the tunnel that runs between A and B/C. It's like another 1/4 mile long, but has like 5 people movers in there. So I'm sprinting down the people movers... which is awesome since it feels like you're running at 20 mph.

The big issue is making sure to slow down enough between the movers because if you hit the static ground at that speed there's no way to get your legs caught up and you eat copious amounts of shit.

So I get to terminal C. Each terminal has 30 gates, and I need gate C30... so I've got a 50/50 chance that my gate will be right there... well I dart into the terminal, and of course the 1st gate: C1. It's now about 9:15, and I've got about half a mile to run to make the gate. By now I'm ass-out tired (since I'm in such wonderful shape with a desk job and all) but I'm still trying to run. As I'm going I'm passing golf cart after golf cart full of people going the other way. Finally around gate C12 I see one going my way, but just as I get there some lady gets on and the guy turns around to take here to baggage claim, despite my yelling about how late I am. I just about started cussing her out, since I'm obviously as late as shit, and near to having a corronary... but noooooo she can't walk for 5 minutes to the baggage claim area. (Luckily I found out later that tram was hit by a forklift and the woman was impaled. She died three days later in the hospital, alone because her family missed their flight to get there in time.) Anyway, I finally got a ride at gate C27... yes that's right I sat down and rode for about 40 feet to my gate.

The people at the gate phone down to the plane and get them to hold the flight.

I get aboard the plane, and I'm sweating, wheasing from my asthma, and realising just how bad of shape I'm in. Some frat-boy tool is in my seat so I have to make him move. Then I realize that *everyone* on the plane is a frat-boy tool. The flight's full of Auburn fans on their way to the Sugar Bowl. So my flight is basically 2 hours of listening to shit talking about a sport I don't really follow. No matter, since I made it to New Orleans at about 10 pm, only 6 hours, an extra flight, and extra city, and a 10 minute mile, behind schedule.

I get into New Orleans, and meet my friends Glen (the NO resident), Dan, Ryan and June at the airport... the only person missing from the cruise lineup is Glen's sister Courtney who stayed at Glen's apartment.

After a little wandering around looking for my luggage we found that it made it on that 6:30 pm United flight that I was supposed to take on stand-by. So it had been just waiting for me for like 30 minutes. We grab the luggage and head out to Glen's dope-ass Cadillac (black STS on 20" chrome rims... pimp for real).

We roll the Caddy through the most wonderful thing I've ever seen: a drive through daiquiri stand. That's right... a drive through for alcoholic beverages. I'm not allowed to order for myself, since my friends are paying for me. They, being the assholes they are, order me a "Bremuda Triangle"... as best I can tell it's a mixture of gasoline, windex, and crushed ice. It litterally made my tongue go numb... not like cold-numb, like chemically numb. They gave me 10 minutes (the length of the ride home) to finish it... I didn't quite get it down in time... that shit was *strong*!

We get to Glen's place and I'm already close to hammered, since the last time I ate (aside from pretzels) was in Denver at like noon. We kick it long enough for me to mess up the tuning on Glen's guitar, then Dan and Ryan decide we need to hit Bourbon Street.

We hop a 2 minute cab ride to the French Quarter party mecca, and hit the street. This place is *nuts*. I've been there before, but all the Sugar Bowl crowds were out partying, so it was pretty crowded... I can't even imaging what it's like during Mardi Gras! We grabbed some "Hand Grenades"... which are lime-esque daiqueries, and are strong as hell.

Drinking our grenades, we kick it on a porch over the street for a bit listening to the AU and VT fans chant at each other. Then we headed down and walked back up Bourbon St. to get a cab. That's when I made my call to Matt that went something like this:

S: "Hey dude!"
M: "Hey, you make it to New Orleans?"
S: "Yeah, I'm on Bourbon St. you bitch!"
M: "You're a bastard! I'm at a bar too..."
S: "...yeah, but I rule more than you, and I'm hella drunk!"
M: "Um okay, have a nice trip."

So we took a cab back to Glen's and were just about to pass out when one of Glen's neighbor's started pounding on his door. Next thing we know we're dealing with two semi-drunk chics that are getting semi-naked... which normally would totally rule, but we were all hammered, and tired, and had to get up in the morning to get to the boat, so we were thankful they only stayed about 20 minutes.

Day 1 Cliff notes:
My flight was delayed that resulted in having to re-route through Dallas/Fort-Worth (the worst airport ever) but I eventually made to to New Orleans in time to get hammered and walk Bourbon Street.

2005-01-10, 04:02 PM	#1
sperry The Doink Real Name: Scott Join Date: Nov 2002 Location: Portland, OR Posts: 20,335 Car: '09 OBXT, '02 WRX, '96 Miata Class: PDX/TT-6 The way out is through	Carribean > NV Well I'm back, and although I'm mentally more centered to deal w/ winter, I'm realizing how much I hate it! Anyway, here's my story: Saturday, Jan 1, 2005 Reno, NV; Denver, CO; Dallas/Fort-Worth, TX; New Orleans, LA Deede and I left Eric's place at about 12:30. Deede graciously offered to drive me to the airport at 6 am on the 1st, so she was going to crash at my place. Instead, she was up most the night vomiting a bottle of wine. I didn't get to sleep till about 1:30, so getting up at 5 to make sure everything was in order was tough. After brushing an inch or two of new snow off Deede's car, we got to the airport at about 6:30. I wait in line for about 90 minutes (the airport was a full-on cluster fuck of people trying to get home from new years and the like...) thinking I'm going to mis my flight, but come to find out it's delayed because the O2 regulator for the cockpit is borked. So the flight's grounded until a plane from SFO gets in at 9:30 w/ the part. So I clear security and kick it in the terminal waiting for the repairs. Since I know I'm missing my 12:30 pm connecting flight in Denver already, I talk w/ the United rep at the counter and they book me on the 6:30 pm flight, putting me into New Orleans at about 10 pm instead of 4 pm. I make some calls to my friends in NO and let them know what's up and figure I'm all set. At about 10:30 I'm finally airborn. The flight's pretty bumpy 'cause of the weather, but it smoothed out once we got up to about 30k feet. We landed in Denver w/o a problem. I figure I've got a 4 hour layover, so I grab a bite to eat and take my time. I figure I might as well get my boarding pass so I hit the counter and they tell me "no sir, you're booked on the 6:30 pm flight tomorrow." WTF!?! I tell the lady that I've got to be on a cruise ship at 1 pm tomorrow, leaving Denver at 6:30 isn't exactly the best way to make that appointment. She tells me that every flight on all airlines to NO are booked until that 6:30 pm flight, and that all I can do is come back to the terminal at 6 pm and try to fly standby. Knowing standby is about as likely as getting abducted by aliens that are nice enough to drop be off in NO after the anal probe, I call my friends in NO to let them know what's up (they start checking flight on the internet for me), then bounce to the customer service desk, which is somehow totally empty. At this point I'm thinking that renting a car and driving from Denver to New Orleans is my best shot to make my ship... so basically I think I'm totally fucked. The woman at the service counter turns out to be awesome. She was very helpful and really went to work for me. In conjunction with about 5 phone calls from my friends that were scouring expedia and travelocity, etc, we were able to put together an alternate plan: Denver to Dallas/Fort-Worth at 5:30 pm on Delta, and DFW to NO at 6 am the next day on American, putting me in NO at about 8 am the day of the cruise. So I hop the flight to Dallas. Now, if you've ever been to DFW, you know it's the worst airport EVAR. It's got 5 terminals, each one is about the size of Reno/Tahoe International. I fly into terminal E. Checking the map (and not realizing how big the airport actually is) I see that American has terminals A and C, and United has B. I figure I'll head over to A to check in for my next flight, then walk to B to get United to pay for a hotel room for me. I hop on the bus to terminal A, and it's like a 15 minute ride on the freeway to get there from terminal E... now I'm realizing how big this place is. I get to the American counter and the guy checking me in is like "actually, we've got a flight leaving to New Orelans at 9:20, if you can get over to C right now you can make it." It's like 8:50, but going for it and arriving in NO at 10 pm would certainly be better than having to spend the night in Dallas. I book the flight and ask the clerk what's the best way to get to C... should I get on the bus again, or just run through the terminals. I guess the guy thought I was in better shape than I'm in, 'cause he told me to go through security in terminal A, then run from A to C and pick up a ride from one of the golf-carts that patrol the terminals. So I duck into the terminal A security area, and there isn't a single person in line! Jackpot... except guess what, I'm tagged for an "additional security check". So I get the garret wand slapped on my junk, and have to completely empty my carry-on and go through everything. I'm finally through security at about 9:05, and I know the flight started boarding like 5 minutes ago so it's Carl Lewis time. At DFW, each terminal is a half circle, and I'm right in the middle of A. So I have to sprint about 15 gates, which I would guess is like a 1/4 mile. While I'm running I call my friends in NO to let them know I'm trying to make a flight tonight. After running half of terminal A, I hit the tunnel that runs between A and B/C. It's like another 1/4 mile long, but has like 5 people movers in there. So I'm sprinting down the people movers... which is awesome since it feels like you're running at 20 mph. The big issue is making sure to slow down enough between the movers because if you hit the static ground at that speed there's no way to get your legs caught up and you eat copious amounts of shit. So I get to terminal C. Each terminal has 30 gates, and I need gate C30... so I've got a 50/50 chance that my gate will be right there... well I dart into the terminal, and of course the 1st gate: C1. It's now about 9:15, and I've got about half a mile to run to make the gate. By now I'm ass-out tired (since I'm in such wonderful shape with a desk job and all) but I'm still trying to run. As I'm going I'm passing golf cart after golf cart full of people going the other way. Finally around gate C12 I see one going my way, but just as I get there some lady gets on and the guy turns around to take here to baggage claim, despite my yelling about how late I am. I just about started cussing her out, since I'm obviously as late as shit, and near to having a corronary... but noooooo she can't walk for 5 minutes to the baggage claim area. (Luckily I found out later that tram was hit by a forklift and the woman was impaled. She died three days later in the hospital, alone because her family missed their flight to get there in time.) Anyway, I finally got a ride at gate C27... yes that's right I sat down and rode for about 40 feet to my gate. The people at the gate phone down to the plane and get them to hold the flight. I get aboard the plane, and I'm sweating, wheasing from my asthma, and realising just how bad of shape I'm in. Some frat-boy tool is in my seat so I have to make him move. Then I realize that everyone on the plane is a frat-boy tool. The flight's full of Auburn fans on their way to the Sugar Bowl. So my flight is basically 2 hours of listening to shit talking about a sport I don't really follow. No matter, since I made it to New Orleans at about 10 pm, only 6 hours, an extra flight, and extra city, and a 10 minute mile, behind schedule. I get into New Orleans, and meet my friends Glen (the NO resident), Dan, Ryan and June at the airport... the only person missing from the cruise lineup is Glen's sister Courtney who stayed at Glen's apartment. After a little wandering around looking for my luggage we found that it made it on that 6:30 pm United flight that I was supposed to take on stand-by. So it had been just waiting for me for like 30 minutes. We grab the luggage and head out to Glen's dope-ass Cadillac (black STS on 20" chrome rims... pimp for real). We roll the Caddy through the most wonderful thing I've ever seen: a drive through daiquiri stand. That's right... a drive through for alcoholic beverages. I'm not allowed to order for myself, since my friends are paying for me. They, being the assholes they are, order me a "Bremuda Triangle"... as best I can tell it's a mixture of gasoline, windex, and crushed ice. It litterally made my tongue go numb... not like cold-numb, like chemically numb. They gave me 10 minutes (the length of the ride home) to finish it... I didn't quite get it down in time... that shit was strong! We get to Glen's place and I'm already close to hammered, since the last time I ate (aside from pretzels) was in Denver at like noon. We kick it long enough for me to mess up the tuning on Glen's guitar, then Dan and Ryan decide we need to hit Bourbon Street. We hop a 2 minute cab ride to the French Quarter party mecca, and hit the street. This place is nuts. I've been there before, but all the Sugar Bowl crowds were out partying, so it was pretty crowded... I can't even imaging what it's like during Mardi Gras! We grabbed some "Hand Grenades"... which are lime-esque daiqueries, and are strong as hell. Drinking our grenades, we kick it on a porch over the street for a bit listening to the AU and VT fans chant at each other. Then we headed down and walked back up Bourbon St. to get a cab. That's when I made my call to Matt that went something like this: S: "Hey dude!" M: "Hey, you make it to New Orleans?" S: "Yeah, I'm on Bourbon St. you bitch!" M: "You're a bastard! I'm at a bar too..." S: "...yeah, but I rule more than you, and I'm hella drunk!" M: "Um okay, have a nice trip." So we took a cab back to Glen's and were just about to pass out when one of Glen's neighbor's started pounding on his door. Next thing we know we're dealing with two semi-drunk chics that are getting semi-naked... which normally would totally rule, but we were all hammered, and tired, and had to get up in the morning to get to the boat, so we were thankful they only stayed about 20 minutes. Day 1 Cliff notes: My flight was delayed that resulted in having to re-route through Dallas/Fort-Worth (the worst airport ever) but I eventually made to to New Orleans in time to get hammered and walk Bourbon Street. __________________ Is you is, or is you ain't, my con-stit-u-ints?