Tuesday, October 28, 2003

BLOG NOTE: Last week I went to Rome with my mother. I stopped by New Jersey for 2 days first. These are the notes from that trip.

Why is my flight always at the last gate in the terminal? It doesn't matter if I'm flying a 777 to New York or a hang glider to Osh Kosh. How come I never get to board at Gate 1? Where are all those other people going that they don't have to walk an extra half-mile to get to their plane? If there are 30 gates in a terminal, I guarantee my gate number will be greater than 25. I don't get it.

On the plane there was probably 700lbs of people in my row of 3. I originally had an aisle seat, but because I was "the skinnny guy", Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum asked if I wouldn't mind sitting in the middle. Of course I couldn't say no. They did pay the $5 to get me a headset for the movie (Charlies Angels: Full Throttle). However, because the armrest couldn't fit between me and the large thigh next to me, it had to kept up between our seatbacks, which pinched off the hollow tubes that made up the headset. So I watched the movie, but didn't hear any of it. I guess with Charlies Angels it doesn't matter.

There were windstorms in Atlanta, we pretty much were sideways all the way down. They didn't secure the doors to the lavatories, so they would slam open an shut with every shake. Sounded like the entire plane was ripping apart. While waiting for my connection, I realized that this was just the first of EIGHT flights I need to make this week. Ugh.

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