Wowza. I almost dont even know where to begin.
though I think the beginning is a good idea.
So the Plan for the day was - Take off in Ottawa, 3 hour lay over in Calgary (*perfect because there I had to clear American customs and what not) then on to LA to surprise boyfriend with the help of a great friend and then smiles and kisses and sunshine unbounded. right?
Wednesday morning was tough ill give you that much. Saying goodbye to my childhood home, my neighbourhood, my puppy and then my parents. . . ouf that was a whole other heartache. I cant describe nor do i want to, the sick feeling you get in your gutt not knowing the next time you'll feel your mothers touch or look into your fathers eyes.
I Digress.
So after the emotional goodbyes, my bags are through, I breeze through security and off to my gate I go.
Stop.
What a fool I am. Walking right past Tim Hortons, another reliable companion I might not see again soon.
Staring at me from behind the counter is an artery filling donut called "the Canada Donut" with the basic donut, white frosting but with tiny little maple leaf sprinkles on top. cammon thats cute and hilarious and again. who knows blah blah blah. not hungry and frankly a little sickened by it. I purchase it. (*Spoiler alert I ate it this morning for breakfast. it was so smashed from the journey it looked like playdough. sugary playdough. )
I sit patiently waiting for my boarding time, once its called, we all gather and board the plane. Once we are seated we wait for maybe 20 minutes before a voice comes on the PA system
" LLLaaaadies and Gentlemen we have noticed a problem with the aircraft and are going to have to ask you to disembark while we fix this. Our maintenance man says the problem should be fixed in about 45 mins. Thank you yadda yadda yadda" <- he didnt say yadda yadda, that was just what was happening in my head after.
Mummbles and Grummbles as we all return to our waiting posts in the airport.
An hour later, we heard something about a scratch on the plane that could have been caused by an airport car or whatever you call them, (I think it was a gremlin) driving too close to the plane and scratching it. sometimes you can fly with these scratches and sometimes you cant. We could not.
Hour 1 goes by - No big deal, I am calm as a cucumber though hoping this delay doesn't last much longer
Hour 2 goes by - Okkay, Okay so were behind. this means that I only have an hour in Calgary to get to the other end of the airport, pick up my bags and boogie through American customs. Cuttin it close but I have confidence in my travelling skills and ability to navigate through airports. this is going to be okay.
2.5 hours - Eff this is getting ridiculous. really ? really? I mean half an hour . . . I shift uneasily from confidence to worry laced with a touch of panic.
3 Hours - Im not gonna make it. No way. Panic. what the hell am I supposed to do now?! where are my bags?! AAaaaAAAaaaHHHHHhhhhhHHHhhhh
what do you mean you cant tell me anything about my next flight?!
Accomodate me? no no no I need to be in LA TONIGHT.
I calmly take a few moments to breathe. Caaaalm girl, there is nothing I can do about this whole thing so Chill out and roll with the punches.
By the time our original flight should have landed in Calgary, frustrated, delayed and frantic passengers on my flight are told we can finally start boarding. Like Cattle in heat, we all cram together, hot, sweaty, ill tempered and most chewing on some sort of airport worthy nourishment.
*** While we were freaking out about flights I met a lovely lady with a three month old baby and she asked me to hold him while she gets her things sorted out. With mama near by I cradled the baby in my arms and just melted all over him. melted love. not sweat dont worry. He just sat there blinking at me and we made faces as he coo-ed and gurgled and smiled at me. ^_^ <3 awfully cute.
We land in Calgary at 1:40 which is nice because my other plane started boarding at 1:30. Eff.
I'm "that guy" who stands up too early and goes to the front of the plane only to be told to turn around because the seatbelt sign was still on. at this juncture of time i would have gladly made the ubber high drop out of the airplane onto the tarmac and started running. thats how serious I was about catching this flight.
THANK YOU SWEET BABY HEYZEUS because my flight to LA has also been delayed and now wont be leaving until 3 whoop whoop! *raising the roof* and all other terrible dances white girls do in excitement.
Once the Cattle are unloaded off the plane I peel outta there so fast you'd think my pants were on fire. I imagine that i looked like the road runner with a cloud of dust behind me, no feet just what seems like an incredibly fast conveyor belt of movement.
After some bad advice followed by some back tracking, I make it to the US boarder guard and im ushered through to get my bags.
Surf board - check
Massive bag - check
Suitcase - . . . suitcase? . . . oh cuss word where in the world is my suitcase? its not hard to miss for flip sake its enormous and Hot pink. Cammon!!!
nothing.
tick tic tick goes the clock counting down to my flight. ARG. In dismay I put my previous two pieces back on the carousel and leave American customs to find someone who can get me that case.
West jet international counter. empty. thanks a ton.
allllll the way down to regular westjet where I find a nice lady who radios in the baggage department (?) and asks about the where abouts of my bag. nothing.
they've loaded it all up so if it isn't there. then it isn't there.
no.
no nonononononononoooooooo. I can feel my cheeks getting hot and red and my vision becomes cloudy. "What do you mean it isn't there?? . . . I need this suitcase i'm MOVING to la, it has my life in it!"
"im sorry hun, you should go through without it, you dont want to miss your flight."
I run full tilt whispering silent words of encouragement to myself as I barrel down the airport to the baggage once again.
I retrieve my bags again and still no pink case.
FINALLY a westjet representative comes wandering in and immediately I launch myself into his line of vision. before he even asks if he can assist me, I am letting the words come out of my mouth with little to no hold back "hidoyouworkhereireallyneedhelpmyflightisleavingwithoutmeandmysuitcaseismissingandineediitbutdontknowhowtofinditwhatdoidocanyoupleasepleasehelpme?"
looking a little shocked, the young man starts radio-ing and hops onto the baggage belt, opens the flapps and tells me that my suitcase is right there but its stuck. (Okay fine so my bag was overweight. sue me. but im moving so I totally validate it. ) it was put on its wrong side so the wheels were turning with the conveyor belt but the bag its self was stuck in some sort of baggage limbo.
After freeing my luggage, we trace the snaking lines on the floor outlined in rope to the customs officer. After not filling out a form i needed, i drag my jazz back, fill it out and return. Now this gentlemen was nice but I dont think he understood the kind of time crunch I was on. I didnt want to say anything because this is the person who literally says yay or nay to my staying in the USA so I let him look at my papers in what seems like slo-mo as he regales me with stories of baking bread. Dont get me wrong, I loves me some bread bakin stories but you know when your doing something and talking at the same time. so one sentence takes three times as long to say. yeeeeeah.
ANYWAYS im through! woohoooo - and in true fashion, I am told that I am the last person to get on the plane.
0_o awkward.
oh well. on we go. As I load my surfboard to be scanned, an airport worker comes by and kindly takes my suitcase and giant bag for me and putts it all on the conveyor belt, destined to meet me on the other side. Or so I thought.
As soon as the bags are out of sight I realize that I have absolutely left my cell phone on and in the front mesh pock of one of my bags. ohhhhhhhhh CAMMON maaaaaaan i bet its gonna charge me roaming out the wazoo and I just couldn't shake the image of my bags rolling around down there and maybe button smashing until im calling thailand for 6 hours.
get on the plane. last. have to scramble to get over people
scuseme, scuse me, sorry scuse me.
I land in LA. I look around for my friend picking me up, he is easy to spot in a crowd because he is generally taller than everyone else around. nope cant see him. maybe hes waiting for me downstairs where I get my bags? nope cant see him. oh well im sure hes on his way ill just get my bags and . . . humm cant see my bags. okay no big deal ill get my surfboard first. done. now for my bags.
I waited. nothing. the crowd, with there bags in hand, gets thinner and thinner until, like a fat kid in gym class - im standin allll alone.
confusion meets panic and mild rage.
I find myself at the westjet baggage office and tell the lady my story. she too does some radio-ing and confirms to me the news. all the bags have been unloaded and if its not there. its lost.
PANIC RAGE CONFUSION
What do you mean lost?! I SAW them in Calgary!
we file a "claim" with hopes of getting my bags back.
"what do they look like? are they important? where are you going? I need to know three personal items in the bags"
"Olive green, Hot pink, LA, of course they are important IM MOVING THERE, my LIFE is pretty much packed in those bags. and as for whats in them? lady I dont want to seem rude or uptight but I Packed those cases to the tits. if you poke the seams wrong those mothers will explode literally all over you. for your own wellbeing, and the work involved to close them back up I really strongly suggest you dont open my bags."
realizing shortly after that without anybags and any freakin cell phone (*just my luck) I am literally stranded at the airport.
choking back tears and feeling lonely confused and beaten, I call boyfriend and ruin the surprise. I had to. the other options was staying in the airport over night or paying a gajillion dollars for a cab. He was happy and shocked and gave me the friends number. I hung up and called my friend and just as luck would have it for the day. I can hear him talking in the hall way. hes right there we just missed each other.
*Exhail. slap palm to forhead.*
with my carry on and my surfboard, we head to the truck for the ride to my new home.
Later on, while friends were over visiting, everyone wants to see my surfboard. I point it out and my girlfriend goes over, unzips the case and pulls it down.
"ohmygawd kt get over here"
not liking the sound of her voice, my smile drops and I come face to face with a HUGE hole in my surf board. I mean like clearly smashed and broken in. I can't take this board in the water like this, the hole is deep enough that it goes right to the inside of the board. once water gets in there. your board is doomed.
Im not sure what steps to take next, but I know its going to involve calling westjet and getting them to fix this. I am outraged and appalled. I paid extra money to have this board taken care of. aaand its broken.
Oh well. I am about to jump into a pool thankfully. Im in the desert and its about 110 degrees seriously. off to the pool i go. before I melt away.
LA is a straaaange place.
Toto, I dont think Im in Canada anymore. . .
xo
