Hello friends and fine folks all around the world (jk, most of you are totally in Utah and the other three of you are in Ohio and are all incredibly nice people. But welcome regardless, of wherever you are currently or where you might be from! Truly, I'm glad you're here).
Normally I would not be writing a blog post right now. Normally I would be at work, enjoying immensely the simple pleasures all human adults crave of taking staples out of things, putting the papers through the scanner, putting the staples back in and then entering that information into an online database. Conversely, I might be fixing whether something is bold, in quotes, or in italics on software tutorials, which I think is an equally coveted position. Real talk - I am grateful for my job. I am I am I am I am but sometimes it sucks the soul out of me a little bit.
It's especially worse now, because ever since Trenton and I got back from our trip to Ohio to spend all the time with Trenton's family, days at work have felt really long and somewhat never ending (though each one has in fact ended, just so we're clear.) Now I fully intend to write a happy post about the Ohio trip. I had a beautiful time and my in-laws are amazing and Cedar Point is really just a great place to be. But I digress, for that is not the topic of today's post. No.
Rather, as I sit here home in bed, and not at work where I would actually prefer to be I chose to right about something else.
But first, you may be wondering to yourself, "why are you home in bed?" and if you are then here is the answer. Even if you weren't wondering that, you're about to read the answer anyway, unless you skip the next paragraph or just plain exit from this beautiful and fulfilling blog. That seems a little extreme, by the way.
Scene: the kitchen, this morning, eating cereal
Me: It is super hot in here
Trenton: Huh?
Me: Aren't you super hot?!
Trenton: Not really..
Me: It's not hot?
Trenton: Nope
Me: I feel like I'm about to start sweating, that's how hot I feel
Trenton: Your forehead does feel a little warm
Me: *realizes it is myself and not the apartment which is overheated*
So, because I have rehearsals from 8-5 all next week (which I'm actually really really excited for!!! :) Yay dancing!!) Trenton thought it may be best to lay down, drink lots of water, and get better faster than post haste. For those of you who didn't want to know why I was at home in bed, the explanation is now over and I hope that wasn't too painful.
What I'd like to tell you fine folks today is about why the Cleveland airport is not a happy place, and why you should not go there if at all possible.
Warning: This is a true story, and while not explicit, graphic, or containing adult themes or imagery, it is upsetting, at least it was to me.
Once upon a time, Trenton and I went on a beautiful trip to Ohio to be happy and smile everyday, which is precisely what we did. However, when it was time for us to go we had to not only face the disappointment of the reality that our vacation was over and school would be starting very soon, but also endure the most painful airport experience of either of our lives.
Our flight left at 7:40 from the Cleveland airport, so we got there around 5:30. This means we had to get up to be driven to the airport at 4:30, which combined with the fact that due to packing (and then me needing to vent things I was anxious about to Trenton and him being the nicest person in the world and listening even though he was dead tired) we didn't go to bed until about 1:30 meant we were super duper tired.
As we pulled up to the airport I immediately felt a grand sense of, "hmm. This is not going to be fun". Not that airports are usually like Disneyland for me, but this, I could tell, would be especially non the happiest place on earth. The airport was under construction and people were lining up outside of the building. No terminals were labeled - there's just the one in this international airport which flies over 10 airlines. So we basically got out of the car and hoped for the best.
Spoiler: The best is not what we received. Despite the hope.
We entered the airport where it said "other airlines" meaning anything that wasn't Delta or Southwest. Secretly they all opened into the exact same place. We had a checked bag which we needed to go check, so we needed to head down to the far right side of the airport. Unfortunately, the line for security was looped twice along the full length of the airport. So we snaked our way down and through people, doing our utmost not to get separated, and marveling at the sheer number of people crammed into such a tiny space. I cannot properly convey to you via blog how ridiculous this line situation was. If I was telling this story in person I would go get a piece of paper and a pencil and draw you a diagram. I often do this when telling stories to my mom, and she loves it (i.e. she thinks its super weird because she doesn't need exactly all those details but she loves me anyway).
So we fight through this line to the area for U.S. Airways, which is literally the furthest away, crammed in the back corner of the building.
Oh. And I haven't mentioned yet that also this was the weekend of the Republican national convention so this airport wasn't just normal crowded, it was convention crowded. I am talking about a claustrophobic's nightmare (I won't say worst nightmare cause I haven't actually experienced their dreams).
After getting our luggage taken care of we had no idea where to actually go to get into the security line. We had waited in part of the security line for quite some time earlier on, because we didn't realize that it was in fact the security line - that ALL the lines were the one and only security line. There was a sir walking around with a big red sign that said "END OF LINE" but the more I think about it, the less I think this guy was actually an airport employee and the more convinced I was that he was just there to troll everyone and make the already frustrated wannabe passengers even more incensed. Because the dude was literally just walking around. There was no clear end of the line, friends. There was a loop. A really long circle. And all around us people were swearing and saying that they'd already looped the entire airport THREE TIMES and were no closer to actually getting through the security line. Airport employees were doing their best for the most part, but some were just telling people to go to the back of the line - including people who had already been in line for over an hour.
Add to this the fact that we have elderly people in wheelchairs and parents with small children, and people cutting through to try and check bags and we have an incredibly disordered system where everyone is mad at everything and everybody is suspicious and aggressive about not being cut in line. Now please, people, before you think I'm making this sound worse than it was, know that I'm not. This is all taking place in a four foot wide walkway, three lanes of people making up a single line and those trying to find where they actually get in line.
As Trenton and I are fighting our way towards what we think is the right direction an airport employee comes through pushing a woman in a wheelchair and asks that we all just hold on and wait for him to get through. As soon as he does, all semblance of a line disappears. Everybody just pushed forward, creating a lovely bottleneck effect near the front doors of the airport. There was no line anymore, friends. I looked to Trenton and remarked, as we were pushed along with everyone else in the non-line that this was undoubtedly against fire code. That's when I realized there were actually Cleveland city firefighters standing around the airport, just waiting, it seemed, for something to go horribly wrong. Not long after we started spotting Cleveland police officers. The airport knew they had the formula for a riot on their hands. It was bad. Somehow, in this no line moment where everyone cut in front of everyone else inadvertently, because remember, the line had disappeared, we started forming a new line and Trenton and I were pretty close to the front of it.
We eventually got through the laxest security check of my life ("shoes on, belts on, jackets on, laptops in bags, go go go!") and arrived at our gate. At one point Trenton went to find a water fountain to wash down a fine breakfast of nutrigrain bar (to no avail, might I add. no drinking fountains in all of the A gate section) and he overheard people talking about a fight that had broken out. Yep. Shoving and yelling and who knows what else, but I can't say I'm the least bit surprised.
If you want to just be mad at Cleveland airport and agree with me that this experience was ridiculous because they had to delay all flights by 30 minutes because no one was getting through and even then plenty of people still were in security lines rather than at their gates, then stop here. This is the end where we stop talking about the Cleveland airport because we boarded our flight.
However if you want to hate U.S. Airways, keep reading.
Disclaimer: If you or a family member works for U.S. Airways I don't mean for this to offend you. I'm sure many employees are nice and do a better job than those who were on the plane with us that day. I don't hate all U.S. Airways people, but I sure hated this experience.
We boarded the plane. Zone 5. Last. Losers that we are. As we waited for Zone 5 to be called, the employee at the gate made it clear exactly who U.S. Airways welcomed.
"U.S. Airways would like to welcome our first class passengers today as well as our elite members and our (something something) card holders. We are so pleased to have you flying with us today, and enjoy your flight!)
this contrasted with, "Boarding zone 5."
We made our way down the little gray hallway to the plane. We had just stepped on board when a flight attendant stopped the old woman who seemed a little shaky on her feet in front of us and said, "wait right there ma'am". Then she carried out the extremely important task of taking juice to someone in first class. Whatever flight attendant. Stop me and Trenton. We are able bodied, youthful souls, but let the sweet old lady find her seat and sit down.
So we sat down, passing all four rows of first class passengers, and sitting among the 16+ rows of coach passengers. Let's also keep in mind that there are six seats per coach row and only four per first class. We've got 16 total first class passengers on this plane, at max. Just reminding y'all that indeed, most of the airline's money for flights is coming from COACH.
We get ourselves in our seats and are waiting for takeoff and I just felt so ill. I often feel sick in the mornings anyway, and the complete lack of sleep wasn't helping. All I wanted to do was go to sleep, but the airplane was freezing. I complained about being super cold to Trenton, goosebumps all over me. Trenton is a kind and caring husband. As the head flight attendant on the plane passed (I would love to tell you her name cause I looked for her name tag and she didn't have one) Trenton made sure she wasn't busy (she wasn't, she was just casually strolling to the back of the plane, looking left and right at us passengers. Us filthy, slimy coach passengers.) then Trenton said, "Excuse me, is there anyway we could get a blanket?"
Now we weren't asking for a duvet or some 800-thread count egyptian cotton sheets. Just an airplane blanket.
The flight attendant fixes Trenton with a look like how can you be such a moron idiot which is never a way that anyone should look at Trenton, and she sneers (truly, sneers, like she's surprised such low life forms can even speak) "We don't have them for people in the back". She said back like it was a dirty word. And then without another look or an "I'm sorry" or waiting for us to response she whisks away.
I understand if that's the policy. I mean whatever, if they don't have blankets for everyone on the plane then ok fine sure. But say "I'm sorry, we don't have any available." or "I'm afraid we can't get you a blanket". But go ahead, U.S. Airways, let people treat your paying customers like pond scum because believe you me, I have told this story many a time since arriving home less than a week ago, and it's just really appalling to everyone who hears it.
Let me add that Trenton and I never even received a cup of water on this flight. Certainly not any peanuts, pretzels, or biscoff cookies. That's just crazy talk.
The flight attendants passed with the cart once while I was asleep and didn't offer Trenton anything, and then they passed one more time on our 4 hour flight, said, "drinks." and passed without waiting for an answer or looking at us at all. It was a charming experience.
So by the time we'd landed in Arizona, we had been awake for over seven hours with one nutrigrain bar each (Trenton actually had 2) and no other food or any drink.
It was a nice "You ain't on vacation anymore!!" slap in the face.
But now all is well. Even though I'm home in bed, I have water, I have plenty of blankets on hand, I have a fan because actually the problem right now is that I'm hot, and I have written an extremely whiny blog post.
Sorry about it. I promise the next one will be happier.
