Things didn’t go quite as planned last night. Wes and I were supposed to fly to New York, together, and arrive around 11:30. We had plans to see The Rockettes at 11am today.
Because we are going straight to Las Vegas from New York, the luggage situation was a little intense. Instead of having a bunch of carry ons, we decided to use my large bag and just check it. That way we wouldn’t have to worry about trying to stuff coats and winter shoes into the tiny overhead compartments. Checking bags is a foreign concept to me. Wes is usually pretty adamant that we don’t do it. However, he agreed that this trip would have to be an exception.
Note to self, never let Wes make exceptions to his rules to accommodate my packing issues.
Not being familiar with the checked baggage policy, Wes and I arrived at the airport with our boarding passes 43 minutes before the plane was to take off. We left my house an hour and fifty minutes early, but traffic was a bit of a nightmare. What usually is a 25 minute drive turned into a 50 minute drive.
Apparently you have to be at the ticketing booth 45 minutes prior to your flight departure to check a bag. “No exceptions,” said the bankrupt American Airlines agent, not even if you are two minutes late. She rattled off something about the FAA having guidelines, yada, yada. But, the 200,000 miles per year passenger in line next to me told me most airlines have a waiver you can sign, and your bags will be sent on their merry way. The agent scoffed at his remarks saying “that must be Delta.”
Delta isn’t going bankrupt now are they?
After a few tears (by me), a couple ugly statements intended for the rude agent (by me), Wes told me to get my butt through security and get on the plane. He was going to catch the first flight out in the morning. Sadly, I left Wes at the American Airlines desk at DFW.
Have I mentioned how flying makes me anxious? And how I was already anxious about my marathon, getting snot on Bobby Flay, and being in a cooking contest at ABC Times Square?
Oh, I haven’t?
Well let me remind you. I suck at flying. I have a nasty cold. I’m in a cooking contest against a clan of cooking contest veterans. And I’m supposed to run 26.2 miles on Sunday.
The flight was a little rough, to say the least. I had a man repeatedly get up from five rows in front of me, walk back to my row, stand and move his body in a wave like motion, while moaning, then casually return to his seat like nothing had happened. Absolutely not acceptable. Sure flying makes us all a little sore, but try and contain your stretches to your seat, or at least your row.
Anyway, enough complaining. Wes is supposed to land at La Guardia at 10:30. He hopefully will not have a checked bag, as I’ve instructed him to dump about half the items I wanted to bring. Can he make it to the Christmas Spectacular by 11am? Honestly, I have no idea. I am hoping so very, very much that he can. But, I know nothing about New York traffic at 10:30am on a Thursday or how far La Guardia is from where the Rockettes are.
I’m going to choose to have hope. Worst-case scenario? We are a bit late to the Rockettes. At least I think that is the worst-case scenario.
Since I haven’t had time to really explore the city or take any photos, I’m going to post some overdue pictures from the lovely angel food cake we made for my dad’s birthday. We used my angel food cake recipe and used a chocolate buttercream. Best angel food ever. And easy. You will never make one from a box again after trying this recipe.
If you are still reading and are not too upset with me for all my complaining, please remember to vote. We have until Friday at 11am to catch up.
I promise I am not an ungrateful girl. I am still incredibly thankful for this trip and getting to see New York at Christmas time, one of my dreams. I’m just a little peeved with American Airlines.
This picture of Lizzie is also helping to calm me down. I miss her. And Wilson too.
I’ll have updates on today and whether we make it to the Christmas spectacular or not. Wish us luck!
As an added bonus, I woke up today to a phone that would not turn on. Verizon, I’m coming for you.