| Tuesday, February 22, 2005 |
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Back in the 'Peg, Part One: In which the teeny-tiny crotchety plane miraculously delivers me to the 'Peg As most of you know, I went home this past long weekend for one of those ever-so-enjoyable family visits. I kept blogpost records of the whole thing piece-by-piece, and will be posting them in a rather disorganized and haphazard fashion. If you're looking for organization (or something interesting to read, for that matter), then you'd best look elsewhere for the next few days. -------------------- Right on time (amazingly enough) on Friday, I snuck out of work with my suitcase in tow. I hightailed it over to the Chateau Lacombe and, when the SkyShuttle pulled up (late, of course) I was promptly ousted from my first-in-line spot by some obnoxious woman who drove up in a taxi and practically stepped on me in order to get into the van first. I didn't say anything (because passive-aggressiveness is fun!), but made sure that I elbowed her when I got out of the van. Um...whoops? Despite being late arriving at the airport, I somehow managed to sit at the gate for over an hour. Luckily - thanks to Jones pointing me in the direction of free airport wireless and Janet, my airport msn buddy - it wasn't all that bad. Except for the woman who kept reading over my shoulder sitting next to me at the gate. I had no idea that SU elections were so damn interesting. Ok, well I did...I just didn't think that normal people thought so too... I have always, always tried to go Air Canada instead of WestJet when flying back and from Edmonton to the 'Peg...better service, mostly better with arrival and departure times, etc. Well, I take it all back. I knew that there was going to be a problem when I started heading down the ramp to board...and the ramp kept going and going, and soon enough I could see my breath. Why, you ask? Well, lucky for me (or something like that), I had managed to book my seat on one of those teeny-tiny regional planes! Hooray! So I walked out onto the tarmac (yes, that's correct...I was standing on the tarmac watching mammoth planes roll by me) and waited to walk up those ever-so-sturdy fold-out steps on to the plane. Those of you who've ever flown with me (I believe there are a few readers who can claim to have made it out alive on an excursion with me) will know that I'm not much for flying. It's not a fear of heights that's the issue (I used to - and sometimes still do - climb on anything and everything that looks climb-able to me...roofs, railings, trees, etc.), I think it's more a lack of control thing. Regardless, teeny-tiny crotchety old planes certainly make me more nervous than not-so-teeny-tiny, slightly newer planes. Take-off went surprisingly smoothly, with no disembodied limbs or passengers being sucked out of ajar emergency exits... So, you know you're in a small plane when you sit down and you can't quite open your laptop all the way (I know I have a big laptop, but still...) The only thing that managed to placate me was Random Hot Guy who sat down next to me. At first, Random Hot Guy just plain pissed me off because he was one of those people who think that the armrest belongs entirely to them. However, he quickly made up for his little error in judgment by taking an interest in the Alias episode that I happened to be watching, and we spent the rest of the flight in complete SD-6 happiness, with a headphone splitter and several packages of that crappy Air Canada trail mix. Landing, again surprisingly, wasn't so horrible. I bid adieu to Random Hot Guy and stood around on the freezing cold ramp for 10 minutes, waiting for my SkyChecked bag. As just a taste of what I was in for, my mother phoned me a total of three times to find out why I wasn't already downstairs while she was waiting. Fuck. -------------------- And "Fuck" is where this blog entry will end. Still to come are "Back in the 'Peg, Part Two: In which my grandmother calls my relative a whore and my uncle plays with morphine" and "Back in the 'Peg, Part Three: In which 15 people and a baby are trapped in a house for 5 hours while the dog throws up". Exciting, I know... . Liberated at 4:00 p.m. | |
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