inspiration in the weirdest places

Chicago O’Hare Airport is a joke.

So I’m on a layover waiting for my flight to take off at around 10:30. It’s 9 now, and I’m getting a little stir crazy, considering I got about 3 hours of sleep (not good sleep mind you) and sat around in Boston Logan airport for about an hour and a half.

So here I am at Chicago O’Hare, which I was kind of looking forward to because a) I have 2 hours or so to kick it and run around and b) omg I can take advantage of “fast food is only allowed while traveling” rule. So after I figure out I have to switch concourses, which isn’t that hard, I get to ride the moving sidewalk under the tarmac under the bright light up art-installation that travels for about 500 feet of the ceiling. Everyone gets to distracted, O’Hare installed a brilliant speaker system right near the end of the walkway that says “The walkway is ending. PLEASE LOOK DOWN.” Cause we’re obviously all staring up at the ceiling. Good call, O’Hare.

Security guards drive in circles on segways. When we’re concerned about an obese society, I feel like cops should not be riding segways. Learn to run the old fashioned way… there are moving sidewalks every 10 feet (seriously) and you can get to any gate in about 30 seconds, unless there’s a child in your way running backwards on the moving sidewalk, or people don’t understand the “stand to the right, walk to the left” theory.

So I arrive in my concourse, I have about an hour and a half before my flight takes off, so I decided to take advantage of my “fast food travel only” rule. So I hit up McDonalds for some greasy-peasey French fries (childhood is calling…) and I remember that it is, indeed, only 8 am. Fabulous. So hash browns it is, and I pick up 2 for a little over 2 dollars. Well obviously these hash browns are gonna make me thirsty, so I hit up another kiosk to get something besides soda, because I prefer to sleep on flights and I don’t even want my teeth feeling coke-furry for 4 hours. I grab a Perrier (alright, so its carbonated or whatever, but it sounded really refreshing.) It was one of those tiny plastic bottles and I grab a couple bucks out of my wallet. She rings it up and says “$4.17.”
No thank you. I put the Perrier back in the case and walk away. How do they get off charging four-fucking-seventeen for a tiny bottle of water with bubbles in it? I check the drink case and everything is $2.25 and up. Perrier says it’s $2.25, but apparently, tax here makes it $4.17? What the hell, Chicago. I was afraid to go to Starbucks after that.

I get to my gate and I realize my seat assignment is a middle seat, which is like my biggest pet peeve with flying (besides sitting in front of small children or people who don’t realize that the seat in front of them is YOUR seat and feel the need to use it as a personal punching bag for the entire flight.) So I wait in line for a solid 10 minutes to see if I can get a seat change. Surprise, no more window seats. So I change to an aisle seat (cause the lady at the desk and I are tight after we had a good laugh after the guy in the sling tried to get an exit row seat: “Can you lift a 70 pound door?” “Well I could try.” “I’m sorry sir. Your arm is injured. I think it would be irresponsible for me to put you in an exit row.” Duh. He seemed pretty irritated, but I don’t want to put my potential safety in the arms of a man in a sling. Then I asked the nice desk lady if she would put me on a waiting list for window seats if one opened up, even though I have an aisle. I treasure my windows, and figured that I could give up economy plus (which I somehow got as a bonus for being awesome today) and sit in the back in some seat somebody forgot to check in for. This makes no sense to me: how can you buy a plane ticket, and not show up for the seat? That’s absolutely ridiculous.

I’m always shocked that the flights to Portland are constantly booked full. There’s a flight almost every day, but there’s usually a standby list, and about 20 people on it hoping to get on the flight. I don’t get that either. Standby scares me, and there’s no guarantee you’ll get to go where you need to. But it’s obvious everyone is going to Oregon, and is possibly from there. Everyone in the waiting area is either wearing Patagonia, Tevas, Crocks, or something straight out of East Portland. (My mother’s friend describes it as a “Bohemian Ghetto.” I still love East Portland.)

I’m excited about going home. Although the weather is described as currently “overcast,” you have to take into consideration that this is a morning Oregon standard, and should not be judged too early. It is supposed to be 90* by this weekend. I packed my sunscreen.

At my mom’s condo, everything is in unpacking mode. She just moved in a few weeks ago (I volunteered to fly out and help, but it sounded like she had it together) and is hanging pictures, fixing things up, installing things – it’s HER condo, and she can do whatever she wants to it. I’m really excited for her. She seems really happy in her new space. We talked on the phone and ichat (sending each other webpage links) and picked out patio furniture. I’m curious to see what she picked.

Dad’s house is another story. Lil Bro is going to prom on Saturday, and next week I have doctors appointments Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Wahoo. I guess. But they’re things I need to do, and a trip to Corvallis is necessary. I need to close my old bank account and collect on the savings I have there (like $600 or something!) and put it in my new savings account. (after paying to bartending school, it mostly cleaned me out.) For my stellar final grades, I think “Daddy” bought me a Wii, just as I craved, and Lil Bro and I will be probably nonstop Wii-ing and playing Rockband until my arms hurt and I can drum no mo. I’m also planning on going to visit Alex in the euge – probably gonna feed ducks or something (heheh), and H is in town (he flew back from Beantown last Wednesday) and hopefully we’ll get in some good party times together. I love that kid; he’s such a doll and I feel like a dick for misjudging him in high school. Maybe I can talk him into seeing Iron Man with me since my fam has already seen it. I’m making Dad go to Indiana Jones with me though. Bwahah.

Plane arrives for boarding in about 20 minutes and I figure I should be listening for my name in case they decide that I should get all of the seats I want. The first flight was pretty bomb – I had a window, and a lady had the aisle. I fell asleep before takeoff, and when I woke up, she had moved and I had the entire row to myself. Unfortunately, we were about to land and I missed my chance to sprawl across A,B, and C, but it was nice to not feel claustrophobic.

In all, I am under whelmed by Chicago O’Hare and it’s false advertising of “WIFI” (LIES) and subsequently, I have typed this on word at 9am, and will have to transfer to wordpress later. Damnit. I can’t even check my email.

Sup to my Midwest relatives… HOLLAAAAAAAAA

P.S. For those of you following along, yes, I changed my flight YESTERDAY to be leaving TODAY instead of SATURDAY. I didn’t want to wait around anymore, and heaven help me if I got laid-over in San Francisco as was originally planned.