It's 11:39 pm.
That's bad enough, that I am still awake.
The part that makes it pissable, is that I am at Gate C26 at the Philadelphia airport.
I'm the only one at Gate C26 at the Philadelphia airport.
Did I mention that it's 11:41 pm?
My flight is at 6:45 am.
Do the math.
Why am I here?
Good question.
My mom, who lives in Orlando, fell last weekend and broke a vertebrae in her back. She's 89 years old. Not good. She also has heart issues. She's in a rehab facility at the moment.
So, being the good daughter that I am, I took off to help out a little. Dad is also 89 and he's at home.
Got to the Portland Jetport okay. Got on the plane okay. Plane taxied to runway okay.
Plane shuts off engines. NOT OKAY.
Pilot says they didn't know we were going to use the runway so we weren't scheduled.
So we have to wait about 25/30 minutes. Then we'll go.
"...they didn't know we were going to use the runway???????"
You can't make this up.
Understand, I had 44 minutes between flights. If all goes ok, that's not a lot of time.
So now I'm down to 20 minutes between flights.
So we take off. When we are almost in Philly, the pilot comes on and says, "They won't let us land, so we have to circle for a while."
"They won't let us land????????"
Now I KNOW that I'm in the Twilight Zone.
Using the runway? Silly us. Needing to land? Preposterous.
So by some miracle we land and I calculate that my next plane is leaving in 11 minutes. It's still actually here. BUT, I'm in the back of the plane and nobody seems to be opening the door.
(Another foreign concept, I'm sure. I am convinced that they are making this all up as they go along.)
We landed at Gate C-24. My plane is leaving from Gate B-5. Not good.
After an excruciating amount of time goes by, I hit the terminal floor running. Along with about 10 other people, not all going to the same place.
I notice that some people can run faster than me. So fast, in fact, they are yelling out "excuse me! excuse me!"
I am yelling out "&^%$#^&*#*&", and " (make heavy breathing sounds)".
These people appear to be 30 to 40 years younger than me. That might have a wee bit to do with it.
No one pays any attention to me clopping along.
I run until I can run no longer. Running in sandals is not good. Running with a backpack on and pulling a rolling valise is not good. None of this is good.
Look. What's ahead? Why, it's B-1 ! Followed by B-2 and 3, then 4! Can B-5 be far behind, I joke to myself?
No joke. B-4 is followed by B-6.
"WTF?"
B-6 .....B-9 then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But, yes, yes, yes B-5!!!!!!
B-5.
I'm sure there were people there once.
Did I mention that it's 12:03 am?
more later......