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August 29, 2003
Tripping
That silly gypsy woman keeps haunting me. Running over gypsies is wrong, I know that. I thought she simply whispered ‘balder’ but I guess she also gave me an electricity jinx. First there were the power outages in NYC, then the curse began to follow me across the country. I was beginning to look like Kurt Russell in Escape from NY, as I followed the advice of the bubblehead at Continental’s phone system’s advice by going out to LaGuardia on Friday. She said my flight to Houston was still on schedule. Silly, silly bubblehead. Apparently she couldn’t read the alert at the bottom of the screen that said that LaGuardia Airport was on final descent to one of the circles of hell.
Texas Chris drove me out to the area, but the exit ramps from the BQE were blocked. I had to get out of the car and haul my suitcases across the exit ramp and down two terminals, only two find the Continental Swamp. This newly created swamp featured hundreds of stranded passengers strewn about like shrapnel from some kind of people grenade, flight attendants with humidity-straightened hair and glazed gazes, overflowing toilets, and NO electricity. Flights were able to land, but there were no flights leaving due to the inability to screen luggage. I felt sorry for the ladies behind the counter, as they were forced to wear outfits clearly not designed for one hundred percent humidity while being screamed at by furious customers. I encouraged them not to kill anyone, and then had to take a taxi back to Brooklyn, as cell phones still didn’t work.
Back on the phone at home with Continental, the next charming lady tried to tell me that I should try to get back to LaGuardia. I explained the situation calmly to her, and she belatedly apologized for the airline’s gross incompetence, citing mass hypnosis. I was able to get another flight on Sunday out of Newark, which delayed my arrival by two more days, but enabled me to eat tainted pasta from my thawed fridge. Forward to Newark and the next step in the gypsy curse. I’m finally on the plane, getting ready to fall asleep to the 2000 songs on my iPod. The woman next to me has already laughed with me about our harrowing escape from the dark city, when suddenly the pilot tells us that the entire radar system for the area has crashed. We’re unable to depart. Damn the gypsy curse. In order to appease the gypsy curse, I impregnate the woman next to me with a gypsy baby and successfully deliver it, thus temporarily lifting the curse and enabling us to depart.
It was very strange returning to Texas. It felt like embracing an ex-lover. Intimate, familiar, and awkward, as I had to introduce it to the new love of my life. Old habits conflicted with new habits, made evident in startling flashes. My brief agoraphobia in a giant parking lot in Houston, my awkwardness behind the wheel of a car, driving along a deserted stretch of four lane highway with the stars traversing a separate highway above me, each one isolated like me, yet not really alone. More blog entries tonight, I think.
Posted by G at August 29, 2003 11:45 AM
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Comments
Ah, it just wouldn't be one of your stories without the inevitable mention of you thinking it would be OK to try eating rotten food.
Posted by: Sparky at August 29, 2003 01:28 PM
And how cute is it that our hero actually went to LaGuardia airport during the blackout, having blind faith in a bubblehead on the phone, thinking he'd be leaving for Texas that afternoon?
This is what makes Glenn undeniably Glenn.
Posted by: RDL at September 5, 2003 09:37 PM