12-18-19
Airport Nightmare:
Last night I spent the evening preparing for my flight home. I packed, and did laundry, and packed some more. . . and then set three different alarms on my phone to wake up to—one at 4:30 one at 5:00 and another one after that. I knew that I needed to leave my house by about 5:30 to be sure I’d make my 8:30 flight— I was sure that I wouldn’t have a problem waking up—as I didn’t actually go to bed until about two. I assumed that it would be easier for me to wake up, because I wouldn’t get into as deep of sleep by then. . . well we all know what happens when you assume. . . ! I woke up this morning at 7:14---- totally slept through all of my alarms! I don’t know how this happened—I don’t normally do this! I started freaking out and called the airline—they had to transfer me to a couple of people and put me on hold for plenty of time in between, so I just got dressed and ready as I waited for help on the phone. They were able to change my flight to the one that left at 9:30 but that would mean that I’d have to book it to get there on time. The gentleman from the airline said nothing about me being there an hour early to check in—I told him that it would take me an hour and a half at least to get to the airline and since I only had my carry-on I would save time not having to check in—but that I would barely be able to make it! He said that was fine, told me to just get there as soon as I could, and wished me luck and switched my flight over. I got insanely lucky on the trains—I had to ride two different subway trains, and then the air train—and arrived at the airport an hour and a half after I’d left my house-- record time! I was feeling so relieved when I went to check in to my flight 40 min before my flight departure, until I went to check in . . . and they told me that it was too late ;( They said that they had already given my seat away and that I would have to pay $200+ to get another flight, and it doesn’t depart until 5:40. I started bawling, and then told the kid at the desk that this was my second flight that I’d miss this morning and that I was never told on the phone that I would have to get there an hour early—or I would’ve never rebooked my flight for that time. I’ve flown a million times since I moved out here and this had never happened before! He said that because the storm was coming in that there were a ton of people trying to get on earlier flights. He said that there was nothing that he could do. They cannot even book me on another flight until three hours before it departs. So I guess we’ll see what happens… I’m just chillin right now in the food court that I had to take the air train to get to as my terminal wouldn’t allow me to go through security until I get my boarding pass. . . at 2:40—yea, so I’ve got about a 6 hour wait or so. There weren’t any chairs there to even sit on—haha I know that I’m learning a lot of awesome lessons while I’m out here—and I may never find out why things like this happened, but maybe it’s just to teach me a little bit of patience;) and to go to bed early or I might not wake up to my alarm—I’m not invincible. Or maybe someone had a more important reason to get home earlier than I did. So instead of getting into Vegas at 11:00am I probably won’t get there until 9:40pm—I don’t expect to get into UT until about 1:00am . . . it’s going to be a very long day! Haha but it’s totally worth it to be able to go home and be with my family for Christmas! The suspense is killing me—I just can’t wait to see everyone!
So I wasn’t able to get booked on this later flight because they have this rule that I can’t change my flight unless it’s within 3 hours of departure— so I had to wait around until about 2:40 just to be sent to another line to stand in for an hour, and then I’m told that because my first flight was changed, all the rest of my flights got cancelled! And in the meantime—while I wasn’t allowed to rebook my flight until 3 hours prior to its departure, the flights that I had been set up for on my return had gotten overbooked! Now there wasn’t an open flight for me to get back to New York without paying 700 minimum added onto the previous flight that had been cancelled. Nightmare--- I started sobbing right there in front of everyone, I felt so hopeless. I called Mom and just started crying harder—and the gentleman behind the desk started making some “special phone calls.” He was able to get me on a flight coming home a day later than I had originally been set up for, and I only had to pay just under $200—which was so much better than the earlier figures he’d quoted me. I was so relieved though—it really was such a blessing.
There was a huge storm coming in the next day so the airport was packed with passengers that wanted to move up their flights so that they wouldn’t be cancelled. The lines all meshed together and everyone was either yelling or crying—so many people everywhere! There was a big man at the front of the lines, taller and wider than anybody else there with a big red Delta jacket on. He was who we went to-- to plead our case. Some people would tell him their story and he would walk them to the very front of the security line, which people had been standing in for hours! Other people just got the regretful hand on their shoulder gesture, with the apologetic, lowered, shake-of-the-head . . . no. That’s when the tears came—for some, tantrums for others, yelling, swearing, all kinds of fun entertaining exasperations. No, really, I felt for them. I was in the same boat—it was just kinda funny to see all of the different responses to similar scenarios.
The lines were long—but I literally had all day. I’d rather stand and move a little every few minutes than stand in the corner and not move, or be stuck at the food court again with all the people sleeping on tables and benches. I confess, I was one of those for a second, but I just slept on the chair with my head on the table— not something I hope to ever have to do again—but I sure appreciated my bed a lot more when I got home later that night!
So I wasn’t able to get booked on this later flight because they have this rule that I can’t change my flight unless it’s within 3 hours of departure— so I had to wait around until about 2:40 just to be sent to another line to stand in for an hour, and then I’m told that because my first flight was changed, all the rest of my flights got cancelled! And in the meantime—while I wasn’t allowed to rebook my flight until 3 hours prior to its departure, the flights that I had been set up for on my return had gotten overbooked! Now there wasn’t an open flight for me to get back to New York without paying 700 minimum added onto the previous flight that had been cancelled. Nightmare--- I started sobbing right there in front of everyone, I felt so hopeless. I called Mom and just started crying harder—and the gentleman behind the desk started making some “special phone calls.” He was able to get me on a flight coming home a day later than I had originally been set up for, and I only had to pay just under $200—which was so much better than the earlier figures he’d quoted me. I was so relieved though—it really was such a blessing.
There was a huge storm coming in the next day so the airport was packed with passengers that wanted to move up their flights so that they wouldn’t be cancelled. The lines all meshed together and everyone was either yelling or crying—so many people everywhere! There was a big man at the front of the lines, taller and wider than anybody else there with a big red Delta jacket on. He was who we went to-- to plead our case. Some people would tell him their story and he would walk them to the very front of the security line, which people had been standing in for hours! Other people just got the regretful hand on their shoulder gesture, with the apologetic, lowered, shake-of-the-head . . . no. That’s when the tears came—for some, tantrums for others, yelling, swearing, all kinds of fun entertaining exasperations. No, really, I felt for them. I was in the same boat—it was just kinda funny to see all of the different responses to similar scenarios.
The lines were long—but I literally had all day. I’d rather stand and move a little every few minutes than stand in the corner and not move, or be stuck at the food court again with all the people sleeping on tables and benches. I confess, I was one of those for a second, but I just slept on the chair with my head on the table— not something I hope to ever have to do again—but I sure appreciated my bed a lot more when I got home later that night!
Dinner with a Communist:
I was finally through the gates and still had about an hour before I could board my flight, so I thought that I’d go find some place to grab a quick bite. I found a cute pizza place—everything there looked sooo good! Not long after I’d taken my place in line, a couple young girls came up behind me and started eyeballing the pizzas on display behind the glass. The pizza that had just been sliced was cut crooked, so there was one slice about twice the size of a regular piece—which meant someone else was 180 degrees away from getting jipped! The girls started to quarrel over which one called the monster slice first . . . their quarreling began to fade as the Pizza man reached toward their slice and slipped it onto a plate. He looked up at me and said, “Here ya go miss.” I wasn’t about to take this coveted slice away from the girls that were still drooling over it! I said to the gentleman, “Oh no, that is their piece,” he looked confused. “Ded you or ded you nat want a slice of dis pizza?!” I told him that I did, just not that specific one—now look who’s sounding picky! I told him that I just wanted a normal sized slice. Still confused, he shrugged his shoulders and made a new selection. I got up to the front to pay for my meal and added a Diet Coke from the soda fountain . . . with a special request to add a little bit of lemonade in it for taste. . . the girl at the till started giggling and commented on my bizarre request—but admitted that she was curious about the combo and would have to experiment with it sometime. I had just found my seat, all by my lonesome in the middle of the food court when a young man approached my table, I just ignored the uncomfortable awkwardness as he stood there peering down at the seat directly across from me, until his abrupt clearing-of-the-throat icebreaker. “I saw what you did back there, and I must say, that was very diplomatic of you.” It really was nothing. He continued, “. . . and. . . I’m delighted to tell you that this beverage combo is brilliant!” I was kind of confused. He must have seen that, for his clarification followed. . . “ Your Diet Coke and lemonade—brilliant!” This is the part where he cheesed up his smile, and acknowledged the empty seat below with a nod. I’m not use to eating meals with foreign strangers, but I had no legitimate reason to say no. He had to have been in his late twenties, trying to sound like he was a sophisticated gentleman, no less than twice his age. It was hilarious actually- he was from Hungary. He had the most "different" views of anyone I think I've ever met! And people generally think a lot different than I do out here. He talked about how I was from Utah. . .home of the Mormons. . . haha I concurred. He said that he had met plenty of Mormons before and that they were nice enough people, "at least better than Catholics!" he commented. He said that every Mormon he'd ever met was trying to convert him though! haha He also said that Mormons taught him the importance of praying vocally, but he said that unlike the Mormons view on communication with God, he was a Lutheran, and claimed that God is only there when they need him. And that the only time that they need to pray to him is if they need help with something. I kept trying to act like a Mormon, but no matter what I said in their defense, he kept talking like I wasn't one! I would say, "Well we do that because. . . "And he would still talk about Mormons like I wasn't one of them! Finally . . . he was like, "Wait you keep talking like you are one! You're not a Mormon!" I was trying not to be offended by this exclamation, but listened as he gave he explained. "Every Mormon has a tag on them-- haha you're trying to trick me, because I have met Mormons before and they always wear their black name tags!" haha I couldn't help but laugh out loud as I recalled the comment made earlier in the conversation and explained to him that all members are missionaries-- yes this is true, but some are actually called on missions, and that is their "job" for 2 years (as a service, they don’t get paid for it.) they just go out and spread the gospel! Missionaries with the tags are a little bit more aggressive than the typical member, because that's what their mission is-- to teach! He continued talking about the most bizarre topics, such as. . . "SUV's-- hate them. They have no purpose-- and shouldn't exist!" What a ironically random comment to make to someone that comes from the land of SUV's haha. I asked kindly for his explanation . . . which was simply “They're ugly and if you need a truck for whatever purpose a truck might be used-- then get one, but to have one with a covered tail-- gasp!!!” haha "Ewe-- Their just Hideous!!!" I asked what his alternative would be. "Get a Porsche, or an Audi. My personal preference is the Volvo, but Mercedes has some nice models as well." ha, seriously? I reminded him of people like soccer moms, or just people that live in a climate where they might need a truck and have too many children to all fit in a two-seater. . . he recommended something that I'd never heard of before, he clarified that it was something similar to a limousine . . . yea, haha. I'm sure he would understand what brilliant idea that was, if he ever had the opportunity to visit our state, just as I'm sure I would have a fair understanding of his perspective had I seen things table turned.
Our next subject of conversation was politics. A subject that I confess is one of avoidance for me here in this city. People were raised differently here, and have different morals and values and opinions, which they are certainly entitled to, but one must tread very lightly on this soil of conversation for it is a very, very sensitive, serious subject around here. As we begun discussing the topic, the gentleman across from me exclaimed, " I don't like your president!" haha I giggled, and whispered, "I'll tell ya a secret. . . I don't love him to death either!" haha he was shocked at my response, and told me that he had been curious to hear my rebuttal. I asked him what he would have said had I answered differently. Here's where it gets good . . . haha. He said, thinking very hard, too hard, like he was making this up as he was saying it. . ."I would say. . . that the change Obama brought. . . is like the change. . . I get from the grocery store! Yes, that's right! Like when you go to the grocery store and they hand you back a handful of. . . . of . . . pennies! Yes, a handful of pennies. . . . They’re worthless! And in fact, embarrassing to even look at!" he said with his nose up in the air! haha who was this guy?! He began to delve deeper into how our country is run, and what I thought I thought of his opinions. "You claim to be a Democracy! But you are clearly a Republic. The people rule here, not the government. That's why you will never succeed. America will fail as long as it gives power to the people. Obviously this was just his opinion but I asked for his suggestion on what we should change. His next words were these, I kid you not, "Communism—it is the only way! And someday America will learn the hard way." This is where I told him he sounded like a psycho-freak and said that he was no longer invited to sit at my table. He tried to give me all the reasons why he was certain this was the only working system, the only way to have order in our nation. . . I rebutted with various examples of history proving his resolve false, time and time again! He claimed that the only examples that I used, including China, were examples of Capitalism, and that they had been misinterpreted as Communism, and then gave his creative definitions of both . . . which are far from comparable with Webster’s. I told him he was a crazy man-- but that he was entitled to his opinion as was I, but that it was offensive, and disrespectful to say such things on American soil. He was only in this country to get an education, and began dissing on everything that is wrong with it, he kept going and going, really-- he was on one . . . until I interrupted him. I reminded him simply that he had come to this "terrible place" to receive an education. And that there were American citizens that weren't able to get into his American College because we have made room to include in each student body a percentage of students foreign to the US, because we are open to including others in there pursuit of better education, and with that kindness in mind, I dared him to go back to the country he came from and find that same kind of education there! After a short pause. . . watching him digest all that he'd just been condemned of . . . he solemnly said, "Point very well taken," and then he just had to add, " but Communism is the only way, and as I said before, that someday America will learn the hard way!” I accused him of the contradicting liberties he was taking of our freedom of speech, and reminded him of where he was again. He was making me angry."Don't you dare come here and get your free education and then make threats about taking it back to your country and using it against us!" he shrugged his shoulders, as if to say sorry that's just how I feel. Serioulsy, he was so confused. I compared him to Hitler, he didn't totally take offense to that. He remarked that although Hitler did some very evil things, he was a brilliant man. I told him that he was a creepzoid, and then realized that I sounded like I was in elementary school again with all of this name-calling . . . and decided to stop. I got up to leave, told him it was interesting speaking with him, and that I needed to leave before I missed my 3rd flight of the day. He asked me if I had facebook-- which I thankfully didn't. And then we parted ways.
Westbound—Finally!
I was on time for this flight! We made it home in record time-- actually a whole hour early. I think they said that they took another route or something. I sat by some fun people, always seem to haha. I sat down with my backpack, and the kid next me immediately commented on the infrared flag-- I had no clue as to what he was talking about, and then he asked me who I stole my backpack from. I laughed and told him that it was my boyfriends, and that it was his Army backpack, and he just left it here in New York so that I could use it to bring my groceries home. He started asking me a million questions about him, where he was stationed, what he was doing, and used a lot of big army terms, I didn't need to even ask-- I knew he was in the military too. He was, and had been stationed in Italy for the past 2 years, without ever taking leave-- that's like a mission! He was on his way home to stay with his family while they restationed him. The girl on the other side of me started talking over me to him and started asking him a million army questions-- she spoke the same language as he did, she had to be military too. Come to find out, she wasn't, but her boyfriend was. He was actually a ranger, and she told me all the nightmares that she and he had to go through, and continue to go through as he will never be the same again. She told me plenty enough for me to just sit there counting my blessings that Fuzz has been so protected and his body is all intact, and grateful that he doesn't scream out because of his horrific nightmares every night, or has never had to witness a friends murder. He's been so lucky. He's just as brave as the rest of them though, I know that he wouldn't hesitate to put his life in danger to help someone else. I just hope and pray that he never has to. The two new friends I made kept me company for the 5 hours of the flight. They were really nice people, and it felt so good to be around people like that at the end of such a long day.
Shaye and my dad were my hero's that day. They waited around for me all day, and then as soon as they sit down and order their dinner, I call and surprise them with my early arrival. It was so good to see them! Shaye is a monster-- he has grown so much! We finally got home that night at about midnight, and with all the craziness of my day--- it was so worth it just to finally be home!
Celtic for Christmas:
My family had spoken with the college and had been given special permission to use the concert hall at the Eccles for a charity concert that we wanted to do to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. The Spectrum got wind of it and decided to use us for the cover of their entertainment section of the newspaper. Here's a link to the article they published:
We filled my week in St. George with lots of fun performances, late night movies, eating, shopping, more eating, and just fun with the fam! I found out that Fuzz will probably be coming home early than we'd expected, so I'll probably be home again in just over 3 months! I can't wait! I have made a long list of goals that I hope to accomplish before I go home-- better get goin’ on 'em! Oh yes, and Happy New Years! I have a feeling this is going to be an extra special one! Wish you all great health and happiness ;)
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