I arrived at O'Hare in good spirits. I had successfully navigated the Chicago Transit Authority system, found my hotel, found Microsoft's office, and hadn't been late for anything. My heels were a mess, but since I was wearing my tennis shoes and had known not to change my socks (which would have opened up the wounds), the bleeding had stopped, and they didn't really hurt at all.
Since I hadn't been sure when the meeting would be done and how long it'd take me to get to the airport, I had booked the 5:35 pm flight back to Rochester. I got to O'Hare around 1:15 pm, so I decided to move up my flight. I strolled past the check-in machines and headed for the line to the agent counters.
At the entrance to the line, an airline employee was having a heated discussion with a middle-aged couple. I couldn't really tell what the argument was about other than the woman from the airline apparently thought they should be using the check-in machines instead and was being very rude about it. Being a good upper Midwesterner, I acted like nothing unusual was going on and paid no attention. After the couple moved away, I stepped past to get into the line. "WHERE do you think YOU'RE going?" yelled the airline lady. Dubbing her "Swastika Sue" in my brain ("You VILL use de machinen!"), I conjured my most innocent and bewildered expression and said, "To reschedule my flight?" "Oh," she said, all interest gone, and turned away to scan the vicinity for new victims.
Feeling fortunate that I was being allowed to speak to my airline's representatives, I waited for my turn at the counter. The line moved pretty quickly, and soon I was standing before the antithesis of Swastika Sue. I told the lady that I'd like to change my flight, and before I could even produce my ID, she was typing away. "It's a good thing you got here early," she said. "There's a storm coming, and we're trying to get you folks home before it hits. You're not going to get through Security in time to make the next flight, and they've canceled the 2:00 flight, so I'm going to book you on the 3:30 flight, okay?" I said that would be great, and she took my suitcase (which, remember, contains my coat). She then pointed out which Security checkpoint was closest to my gate, and said, "Have a safe trip!" as I headed off in that direction.
The people at the checkpoint, while not overtly friendly, were surprisingly pleasant. I was a bit concerned about taking off my tennis shoes, but there wasn't any blood in them, and nobody seemed to notice that the backs of my socks were caked with dried blood. Nonetheless, I was quite pleased that my flight was leaving from gate G1A, so I didn't have to hike down the concourse.
I found a seat and got my laptop out of my backpack. After a half hour, I still couldn't get it connected--the software said the wireless adapter was disabled, but the operating system said it was enabled. Giving up, I put it away, hoping that nobody had sent me any urgent e-mail in the last 24 hours, and got out my phone, which has Internet access, so I could at least check the weather. There was a storm approaching, but only 1-2" of snow was predicted.
I got a bit nervous when it started snowing, but as the time of the flight approached, it tapered off into nothing. I was concerned that we still didn't have a plane, and sure enough, the flight got moved back a half hour. Then, forty-five minutes. Then, an hour. As the time got later and later, my good mood ebbed away. By 5 o'clock, I was hungry, but didn't dare leave the gate because the flight was never more than 30 minutes from supposedly boarding. At 6 o'clock, the flight was moved to 7:05, so I decided I finally had enough time to head over to the restaurant next door to get a burger.
I got a soda, and while I was waiting for someone to take my order, I used my phone to check my flight status. It was canceled. I was stuck with a soda I hadn't paid for and with no waiter in sight, I couldn't jump up to dash to the gate agent to get rebooked. I figured there wasn't a whole lot I could do, so I ordered my burger and ate it, mulling over what I should do next. After I paid for the meal, I checked the departure board and headed to the gate for the next flight to Rochester--the flight I was originally supposed to be on and which hadn't left yet.
The gate agent was rather blasé about the whole thing and told me there was no way I could make it out on the next flight or the flight after that. He said he could put me on the standby list for the last flight, but I would be 9th on the list. I said it didn't sound like I'd get on that flight and asked him what I should do then. "Report to the airport at 6:30 tomorrow morning, and we'll see if we can get you on a flight."
I wandered away from the gate, thinking furiously. I could ask to be booked on a flight to Minneapolis and rent a car there, but I figured plenty of other people had probably already done that and I didn't hold out much hope of getting a seat. I could get a hotel room, but I would have to find some place to buy my special contact solution, which is the only one to which I'm not allergic, and spend the good part of a third day in my jeans and the second day in the rest of my sweaty clothes--while they "saw" if they could find me a flight. I could rent a car, but I had no idea how much that would cost or whether my company would reimburse me for it. Oh, and Dave was gone, so there was nobody to feed my cats.
I wandered around the baggage level for awhile before I determined that the terminal didn't have any car rental counters. My wireless connection was hosed, so I couldn't hop online like I had done the last time my flight was canceled. I tried calling Dave to ask his advice, but he didn't have cell reception where he was at. Finally, I sat down to have a good think.
I decided that I was, dammit, wide awake and pissed off enough to make the drive home, and that a rental car had to be about the same price as a hotel room. It didn't really matter if the company wouldn't pay for the car--I was damn well going to feed my cats and sleep in my own bed. True, there had been a storm that afternoon, but it had only dropped about an inch of snow, and they would surely have that cleared away by the time I got there. Now I had to figure out a way to rent a car.
So, I called Ben, and after a period of what was probably incoherent ranting, I managed to ask him to look up the 800 number for Hertz. I called Hertz and got a quote for around $120. I could find a hotel around O'Hare for less than that--not a nice hotel, but one where I'd have the opportunity of meeting people from other (street) walks of life--but I decided to damn the torpedoes.
Twenty minutes later, I was getting off the shuttle at Hertz. Within sort order, I had the keys to a Chevy Malibu and was heading to the parking ramp. Now the upside of the wool sweater was manifesting itself--it was warm enough to make up for my lack of a coat.
I was pleased with myself for making a command decision and taking charge of my situation. It was now 7 pm. Some time between midnight and 1 am, I'd be walking into my house to find my relieved cats and my bed. I settled in for a long drive and headed off to find I-90, glad my ordeal was over. (Do I really have to tell you again how to construct the irony?)
Sunday, February 03, 2008
fear and loathing in chicago, part 1
Well, I had another interesting trip to Chicago. (By "interesting," I mean "times, May you live in.") Microsoft was offering a free Upgrading SharePoint class at their Chicago office, and my boss thought I should go. I must admit it was very helpful. I'm not sure if the price was worth it, though.
I caught an afternoon flight to Chicago, which went without incident, and I landed at O'Hare, claimed my bag, and headed off to the L. Getting to my hotel required switching trains, which I successfully navigated, thanks to Dirk Gently's theory that, when you are lost, you should follow the first person you meet who looks like they know where they're going. This payed off in a big way after exiting the final station. According to the maps, my hotel was on the corner of Grand and Michigan. Arriving at the physical location I discovered a bit of an issue--Grand doesn't actually intersect Michigan--it goes under it. I managed to keep my flatlander brain from imploding at the very idea, and followed a woman with a rolling suitcase who looked like she knew where she was going. At about the point where Grand should have intersected Michigan, she entered a building and headed to an elevator marked "To Michigan Ave." I followed her outside the building, and there was my hotel across the street.
The next morning, I dressed in my specially chosen non-casual, yet comfortable outfit, which included a nice green wool sweater and those comfy brown German loafers I purchased some time back--neither of which I'd worn for any long periods of time. Within the first block of walking to the L station, I realized the shoes were going to be an issue, what with them rubbing on the backs of my heels. Standing on the rush hour L in my leather jacket, the downside of the wool sweater became apparent. By the time I got off the train and made the three block walk to the building that houses Microsoft, I was pretty well drenched with sweat.
I tried not to drown the receptionist as I checked in. She was very nice and even found a place to stash my suitcase. I was a half hour early, so when I spotted the ladies' room, I darted into it as fast as my shoes would allow. I secured myself into the handicapped stall and worked on stopping sweating. After that was under control, I pried off my shoes and found blood everywhere. I hobbled to the sinks, grabbed some paper towels, and fashioned some heel guards. After a careful reapplication of face powder, I was all set to go to the meeting.
The meeting was great. The Microsoft guys were really nice and answered all my questions. (One of them even tried to help me get my wireless adapter on my laptop working, but we couldn't--this will become significant later.) The chick next to me worked for a liquor distributor and played the electric guitar, so she was fun. After a box lunch, courtesy of Microsoft, I packed up my stuff and retrieved my suitcase. I got the brilliant idea to change into the jeans and tennis shoes I wore the day before, so after a quick change in my bathroom, I was off to the L station.
I easily found it, and when I got inside, I peeled off my leather coat and stuffed it into my suitcase. After a fairly long wait for the train to O'Hare, I settled into my seat, glad that my ordeal was over. (Use the title of this post and your knowledge of life to construct an ironic subtext.)
I caught an afternoon flight to Chicago, which went without incident, and I landed at O'Hare, claimed my bag, and headed off to the L. Getting to my hotel required switching trains, which I successfully navigated, thanks to Dirk Gently's theory that, when you are lost, you should follow the first person you meet who looks like they know where they're going. This payed off in a big way after exiting the final station. According to the maps, my hotel was on the corner of Grand and Michigan. Arriving at the physical location I discovered a bit of an issue--Grand doesn't actually intersect Michigan--it goes under it. I managed to keep my flatlander brain from imploding at the very idea, and followed a woman with a rolling suitcase who looked like she knew where she was going. At about the point where Grand should have intersected Michigan, she entered a building and headed to an elevator marked "To Michigan Ave." I followed her outside the building, and there was my hotel across the street.
The next morning, I dressed in my specially chosen non-casual, yet comfortable outfit, which included a nice green wool sweater and those comfy brown German loafers I purchased some time back--neither of which I'd worn for any long periods of time. Within the first block of walking to the L station, I realized the shoes were going to be an issue, what with them rubbing on the backs of my heels. Standing on the rush hour L in my leather jacket, the downside of the wool sweater became apparent. By the time I got off the train and made the three block walk to the building that houses Microsoft, I was pretty well drenched with sweat.
I tried not to drown the receptionist as I checked in. She was very nice and even found a place to stash my suitcase. I was a half hour early, so when I spotted the ladies' room, I darted into it as fast as my shoes would allow. I secured myself into the handicapped stall and worked on stopping sweating. After that was under control, I pried off my shoes and found blood everywhere. I hobbled to the sinks, grabbed some paper towels, and fashioned some heel guards. After a careful reapplication of face powder, I was all set to go to the meeting.
The meeting was great. The Microsoft guys were really nice and answered all my questions. (One of them even tried to help me get my wireless adapter on my laptop working, but we couldn't--this will become significant later.) The chick next to me worked for a liquor distributor and played the electric guitar, so she was fun. After a box lunch, courtesy of Microsoft, I packed up my stuff and retrieved my suitcase. I got the brilliant idea to change into the jeans and tennis shoes I wore the day before, so after a quick change in my bathroom, I was off to the L station.
I easily found it, and when I got inside, I peeled off my leather coat and stuffed it into my suitcase. After a fairly long wait for the train to O'Hare, I settled into my seat, glad that my ordeal was over. (Use the title of this post and your knowledge of life to construct an ironic subtext.)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
early pre-resolutions poll results
Brain recently posted about NY resolutions, which got me a-thinking.
Normally, I make my New Year's resolutions around Thanksgiving time. They shortly get revoked by the holidays, so my period of resolve typically only lasts a month. Natually, my resolutions are never too earth-shaking--it's pretty hard to pull off a major reform in one month. But, if I were to moving my resoluting up eleven months, here's what my list would be (so far):
Normally, I make my New Year's resolutions around Thanksgiving time. They shortly get revoked by the holidays, so my period of resolve typically only lasts a month. Natually, my resolutions are never too earth-shaking--it's pretty hard to pull off a major reform in one month. But, if I were to moving my resoluting up eleven months, here's what my list would be (so far):
- Buy a new calendar.
- Get Jeff Lynne elected president. Oh wait, he's British. Jeff Lynne for God, then. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, at least.
- Try to get through March without killing Dan Marino, Don Schula, Mike Golic, Kirstie Alley, Valerie Bertinelli, Dick Butkus, or anyone else trying to cash in on New Years insecurity.
- Beat the hell out of New Jersey. (Oh wait, that's my New YORK resolution....)
- Think about becoming a better person, mentally and physically, but admit that I'll likely go no farther than that.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
adventures of a galley slave
Okay, maybe I'm being a bit be-atchy, but it seems like all I've been doing lately is washing the freaking dishes--and I have the hands to prove it. I never used to have to use lotion, so I'm rather awkward at it. You know, like only remembering to put it on immediately before I need to use a computer. I wonder if there are any lotion tutorials online. Ah well, I almost have Dave's chili adventure cleaned up.
I finally got the new UPS installed and all devices hooked up to it. I was going to tame the tanglebeast of wires that lives on, under, and behind my desk, but recabling everything was such a pain-in-the-arse that I decided laying on the couch to be preferable. (And, thanks Brain, now all I can think about is if I can fit a second monitor into the scheme.)
Over the holidays, I got a new cell phone (long story, don't ask). This is the first one I've actually picked out myself. (Dave is the Phone Führer. "This vill be your new phone." "Sieg Heil, Mein Herr!") Since you can't seem to get a phone that is just a phone and not a phone/camera/music player, I decided to embrace the whole concept and go with a nice music package. (I did get some gratification by announcing loudly in the store, "But I want one that looks like a phone!") Judging by forum activity on the internet, I'm guessing I'm one of about 20 people in the world who have gotten Windows Vista to recognize their phone and transfer music to it using Verizon's software. I would take more credit if I knew exactly what I did to get it to finally work or if I could transfer more than 25% of the external chip's capacity worth of music without it bombing out--but hey, you gotta start somewhere.
We had a nice, if rather hectic Christmas. Spent about four days in Nodak with a full social calendar before heading back. (With the new job, I had a grand total of 18 hours of vacation, so that was rather limiting.) Saw a lot of people and had a good time, but didn't get any relaxing in. After the festivities were over on Christmas night, I announced that I had run out of social skills and was spending the rest of the night in my room. My parents didn't seem to mind--they know what I'm like, and I had already fixed their computers.
We got invited to two different New Year's Eve parties in the Cities, but Dave woke up with a migraine. At around 6 PM, he stood in front of me, pasty white and shaky, and said, "Are you about ready to go?" I decided that he wasn't going to have any fun when he obviously felt like crap, and I wasn't going to have any fun worrying about him, so I put my foot down and announced that we weren't going. He was rather snarly with me, but about five hours later, he admitted that he was glad we didn't go.
On Thursday afternoon, after spending two days in the office hearing about how sick everyone was (usually while they were standing in my cube or after having shook my hand--"Nice to meet you, Mel! Man, I've been sicker than a dog all week!" "Gee, thanks for touching me!"), I started to feel achy and dizzy and get a sinus headache. I went home and went right to bed. Woke up Friday morning feeling like crap, so I decided to work from home. About 3 PM, I couldn't stay upright any longer, so I told my boss I had to go lay down. Slept most of the night and most of Saturday. I'm feeling much better today--still a little weak--but I'm hoping I managed to fight it off. I'm sure I'll get another helping of the sickness tomorrow.
The weirdest bit about the whole thing was that my right eye kept watering. After I whined about it for a couple of days, Dave hinted that I should look it up on WebMD. I diagnosed a blocked tear duct. I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to avoid going to the doctor when I read that, while the condition is common in babies, it rarely happens in adults. This summer, when I went in with what I figured was an ear infection, the ER people all laughed at me because "only babies get ear infections!" ("Yeah, let's see if you get an infection after I rip off your arm and shove it down your ear canal, you big baby!") After two useless visits and two useless medications, it more or less cleared up on its own.
So, last night, I decided to watch a movie that I figured would make me cry at the end, and then, to be on the safe side, I conjured up additional distressing thoughts to keep it going as long as I could. When I woke up this morning, my eye was fine!
Well, I think I'm going to try a second attack of the kitchen, and see if I can get in a couple of hours of work to make up for Friday.
Happy belated New Year!
I finally got the new UPS installed and all devices hooked up to it. I was going to tame the tanglebeast of wires that lives on, under, and behind my desk, but recabling everything was such a pain-in-the-arse that I decided laying on the couch to be preferable. (And, thanks Brain, now all I can think about is if I can fit a second monitor into the scheme.)
Over the holidays, I got a new cell phone (long story, don't ask). This is the first one I've actually picked out myself. (Dave is the Phone Führer. "This vill be your new phone." "Sieg Heil, Mein Herr!") Since you can't seem to get a phone that is just a phone and not a phone/camera/music player, I decided to embrace the whole concept and go with a nice music package. (I did get some gratification by announcing loudly in the store, "But I want one that looks like a phone!") Judging by forum activity on the internet, I'm guessing I'm one of about 20 people in the world who have gotten Windows Vista to recognize their phone and transfer music to it using Verizon's software. I would take more credit if I knew exactly what I did to get it to finally work or if I could transfer more than 25% of the external chip's capacity worth of music without it bombing out--but hey, you gotta start somewhere.
We had a nice, if rather hectic Christmas. Spent about four days in Nodak with a full social calendar before heading back. (With the new job, I had a grand total of 18 hours of vacation, so that was rather limiting.) Saw a lot of people and had a good time, but didn't get any relaxing in. After the festivities were over on Christmas night, I announced that I had run out of social skills and was spending the rest of the night in my room. My parents didn't seem to mind--they know what I'm like, and I had already fixed their computers.
We got invited to two different New Year's Eve parties in the Cities, but Dave woke up with a migraine. At around 6 PM, he stood in front of me, pasty white and shaky, and said, "Are you about ready to go?" I decided that he wasn't going to have any fun when he obviously felt like crap, and I wasn't going to have any fun worrying about him, so I put my foot down and announced that we weren't going. He was rather snarly with me, but about five hours later, he admitted that he was glad we didn't go.
On Thursday afternoon, after spending two days in the office hearing about how sick everyone was (usually while they were standing in my cube or after having shook my hand--"Nice to meet you, Mel! Man, I've been sicker than a dog all week!" "Gee, thanks for touching me!"), I started to feel achy and dizzy and get a sinus headache. I went home and went right to bed. Woke up Friday morning feeling like crap, so I decided to work from home. About 3 PM, I couldn't stay upright any longer, so I told my boss I had to go lay down. Slept most of the night and most of Saturday. I'm feeling much better today--still a little weak--but I'm hoping I managed to fight it off. I'm sure I'll get another helping of the sickness tomorrow.
The weirdest bit about the whole thing was that my right eye kept watering. After I whined about it for a couple of days, Dave hinted that I should look it up on WebMD. I diagnosed a blocked tear duct. I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to avoid going to the doctor when I read that, while the condition is common in babies, it rarely happens in adults. This summer, when I went in with what I figured was an ear infection, the ER people all laughed at me because "only babies get ear infections!" ("Yeah, let's see if you get an infection after I rip off your arm and shove it down your ear canal, you big baby!") After two useless visits and two useless medications, it more or less cleared up on its own.
So, last night, I decided to watch a movie that I figured would make me cry at the end, and then, to be on the safe side, I conjured up additional distressing thoughts to keep it going as long as I could. When I woke up this morning, my eye was fine!
Well, I think I'm going to try a second attack of the kitchen, and see if I can get in a couple of hours of work to make up for Friday.
Happy belated New Year!
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