1) Were kind of in a panic as we headed into the airport. We already had printed out our boarding passes but needed to know which gate to go to. The check-in line was long, and since we were flying on Sun Country, an airline that didn't have its own bank of departure and arrival TV's, we didn't know where to go.
So I go up to this worker helping out a guy in a wheelchair. He's young, and by the way he rested his hands on his hips and slouched that he wasn't projected a positive customer service image.
But I surmised this too late. I sidled up to him before taking stock of his body language when he said, "Can I help you?"
I thought I could figure it out, and sure as hell didn't want to get passive-aggressively smacked down by this shit who'd rather not work there. "No, I'm OK."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." And I slink back to my mom. We look down both ends of the airport -- no signs anywhere. It was getting close to that half-hour "gate closing" time where they say they won't take any more passengers. So I had no choice. I slunk back to this guy.
"Actually, I do have a question. Where's the gate for Sun Country flight sumpin'-sumpin'?"
"Gate 32," he said, nonchalantly, hand on his hip the whole time.
I know he was chuckling to himself inside for being able to ridicule me. Quit being an airport helper, you fucking dickwad.
2) We get to the gate. More chaos. People are laying about anywhere, even though there seems to be no delays.
My Mother wanted to try and get seats closer to the front. I don't give a shit, but I wanted to be good to Mom, so I went up to the busy gate agent and asked if there's any way we could move up.
She starts doing her thing on the computer -- by the way, why are the monitors at these airport gates still huge? Don't they have enough money for flat screens, at all? They've come down in recent years, to the point where even airlines can buy them in bulk for cheap. Anyway, she starts looking and says, after some typing, "It's a 3x3 ... "
I say something innocuous, something like, "OK, any seats you see available?"
"You wait. I haven't signed in yet."
Well, shit, ma'am, if you're telling me that this plane has 3-by-3 seating, I fucking assumed you're already logged in. I guess I was being too presumptuous. You give me some detail about the fucking plane, I thought you were ready to give me more details about the plane, like whether or not we could change our seats. But I'm sorry, I'll wait until you get your fat goddamn fingers around to punching in your username and password. We just have a flight we're about to board, and we don't want to be stuck in the ass end of the plane. But you take your time. Just know that it ain't gonna help once we actually sit our asses down, OK? So don't speak until the AOL Voice says, "You got mail," then you might be prepared to tell me if we can move up.
By the way, the flight was full and we couldn't move up.
Swear to Buddha, San Francisco had the surliest people I've seen anywhere. Liberal cities are just filled with assholes and bitches.
3) I may have blogged that last paragraph in an earlier post. And at the risk of repeating myself again, I want to say this: My Mom really wasn't speaking to me up until just before this trip because she was somehow mad at me for going to my sister's wedding. The trip went swimmingly, we got along and talked, we just didn't talk about "them," besides one little comment about how my brother-in-law seems to be taking care of her just fine.
My Mother and I were fine during the trip, too. We just didn't get anything solved when it comes to why she flipped out on me.
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