We made it! We’re here!
We survived the dreaded Airport Day.
Not without small annoyances, like Genieboy totaling his truck (he’s fine, just stiff) when some kid flying by at 150 mph sent him into the guard rail.
And me having to make a connection with only a 30 minute layover. In Atlanta. And no one on the plane who knew what gate I was supposed to go to.
Which is why I was stabbing at my phone like a crazed woman, battery icon flashing 8%! 8%! 8%!, searching Google PlayStore downloading apps one after another after another in a total frenzy to find a gate-locating app before they closed the cabin door and the Cell Phone Police came searching for Wrongdoers.
So I was stressed out and distracted when I unhooked the seat belt and made it down the aisle to the restroom.
Especially when the moment I slid closed the “Occupied” latch the pilot said, “Fubgrb guh rigrugkew” and the “Return To Your Seat!” light came on and I found myself thrown into the sink.
This might be why I simply could not manage to pull down my jeans.
Which, after a Vitamin Smoothie, three Walmart-size mugs of coffee, a 5-Hour Energy and two liters of water, I really, quite seriously, had to do, but could not get the pants to slide over my hips – even gripping the front pocket with one hand and the butt with the other, bearing down till my face was red and my eyes were tearing. The jeans just didn’t want to move.
Especially since by now I was twerking. Squeezing my crossed thighs together so tight a cable-and-winch in a tractor-pull wouldn’t have been able to get them off without dragging my hips with them.
And then, as I was considering a Plan B …
I noticed that I hadn’t undone my belt.
Like I say I had been a little distracted with all the worrying about finding the gate and not missing the next flight and all.
Atlanta is a huge airport. We arrived at D41 on the upper level and the signs said my connection was at T2 in the exact most far away possible lower level other terminal, the very last gate, purposely located as distant as they could figure out from where we landed, requiring multiple escalators, dragging my roller carry-on and camera bag through mile-long hallways, mob-scene concourses, crowded unmarked rotarys with spokes in every direction, and a train.
I finally came crashing up to T2 yelling “SAN DIEGO! SAN DIEGO!” just as they were beginning to board. People moved aside letting me shove my boarding pass at the agent’s face, I guess assuming I was not the sort of person you wanted to unravel.
Anyway, Genieboy and I both made it and we are here now.
It’s beautiful here! So sunny, breezy, flower-scented, songbird-filled, we just want to lie around watching the palm trees waving.
It’s 5:00 pm as I write this. Still completely bright out, like noon. People lying by the pool, some in the hot tub; as the hours go by more and more dancers come through dragging suitcases along the flower and trellis walkways yelling “HI! HI! HI!” hugging, laughing, moving into rooms.
We’re going down to get banded (that sounds like someone’s going to study our dispersal and migration patterns, behavior and social structure, life-spans, reproductive success and survival rates) check out the ballroom, say hello to friends from Europe, Asia, Tahiti (!!!), Latin America, Texas, and maybe even Parker or Earl if we can find them.
If you’re coming to San Diego for the first time, or find time during the event or after, you might want to see some of the fun stuff San Diego has to offer – it’s a BEAUTIFUL city! Here’s a bunch of fun sight-seeing ideas I wrote up last year.
We wait all year for this event … and it’s FINALLY here!
Everybody just stuck their heads out of the balconies in the Palm Tower yelling HI! HEY! HI! to each other and to everybody down at the pool all at once! and SWINGDIEGO!!! SWINGDIEGOOOOOOO!!! out across into the hillside HAHAHAHA
I LOVE THIS EVENT!!!!!!
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