Adventures in Travel

So, last Tuesday, May 13th, I was traveling to Montreal, yet again. What makes this trip special is that I was traveling from O'Hare instead of Indy. (Why? Because I needed to be in Chicago Friday, and I didn't want the extra driving when I returned Thursday) So, Monday morning, I scrambled around to get packed, and to get to work. I got my suit, clean clothes, undergarments, and toiletries.

So, I get to Sara’s, in Brighton Park, early Monday evening, plenty of time to enjoy hanging out with Mark, Sara, and Eli. (Except Sara was in Wisconsin.) I went to bed at a reasonable time, because I had to get up at o’Dark Thrity to make my 6:00am plane. I get on the Stevenson, to get the Dan Ryan, to get to 90 (I’m not sure if the 90, after the split, is the Kennedy or the Edens) to 190 to O’Hare. I park my truck in the econo lot way far away from the terminals, get on the tram, and head to the United check in.
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I would like to take this time to state the following: while I am a conservative, and I believe in National Security, I think the Department of Homeland Security has their collective heads shoved up their collective asses. I think FEMA was more effective post-Katrina than the DHS has ever been.
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So, I’m walking up to the back of the line and I open the pouch on my laptop case to grab my passport. SHIT, WHERE’S MY PASSPORT? Oh, no, I forgot it. I quickly ask the ticketing lady do I REALLY need a passport to go to America North? As they replied in the affirmative my heart sank: my passport is in my apartment in Indy.

I race out of the terminal (a mistake, addressed in a little bit), get on the tram, exit the econo parking (losing my cherry parking spot), get on the 190, then 90, then the Dan Ryan, then 80/94, then 65 towards Indy. At 7:00am Central time I call the travel company that Stanley uses and explain my screw up. They asked me if I checked in, which is a big fat NO, and then tell me I’m listed as a no show. At this time, I’m doing 95 mph on I-65 30 miles outside of Indy (did I mention that it takes $80 to fill up my gas guzzler) and I explain to the lady that I must make it to Montreal that night, and that within the hour I’ll have my passport. She tells me that she’ll talk to United and see what’s up.

I get to my apartment, take a shower, clean up, and put my passport in my wallet. The travel agent lady, Angela, calls me back and tells me that I can book a flight on Northwest to Montreal from Indy for $1,600 (good God, no) or get a new United flight out of O’Hare for an extra $1,000 (Oh God, I’m getting shit-canned.) After inquiring if there are any options that don’t require me being disgraced and fired she tells me if I can make it back to O’Hare by 2:00 PM Chicago time I can fly stand-by to Montreal: I’ll take the Deal Howie. I get to O’hare, get sent to the wrong line twice, and end up checking in. At the counter I’m told I can fly stand-by, or I can buy a guaranteed seat for an extra $100. At this point I whip out my American Express card and buy a seat.

The silver lining is this: low-level peons (that’d be yours truly) are required to fly the dirtiest, cheapest coach class they can find, no exceptions, but this guaranteed seat was a coach-plus/economy-plus seat, I was able to have an extra 6-inches (women, insert inappropriate comment here; I can’t believe I’m related to you dirty, old-birds) of leg room for my 2 hour trip to Montreal.

That is my ordeal of my trip to Montreal.

Later,

B