Only The Curious

The last three days have gone by in a flourish of packing, lost wallets, and preparations… Here’s a brief summary of what shall now be known as “The Suitcase Fiasco,” “Why I HATE HATE HATE United Airlines,” and other stories:

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

I’ve been having anxiety attacks. For days. What’s weird is that though I’m a little nervous and very excited, in my conscious mind I don’t feel these things particularly strongly. But I’ve been getting stomach aches and have been having trouble sleeping, two things that happened all the time in college when I had anxiety problems but haven’t since I started meditating. I think my sub-conscious and my sympathetic nervous system know something I don’t. Or maybe they just have an inside joke. Either way, my body is telling me that I’m freaking out when, at least externally, I’m not.

I spent the day running around doing errands, got a massage (thank god), and BOUGHT MY iPHONE!!! I’ve been waiting months for this, and I’m sure it will be a godsend on the trip.

At 9:30 pm I am all packed. Well, my suitcase is. Unfortunately it’s crammed full, and there are no socks, underwear, or toiletries in there. I’m a light packer, but I need biking gear, regular clothes, rain clothes, and dress clothes to get me through 2.5 weeks. There will be laundry, but even 6 days’ worth of each of these is still a lot. I run to SuperTarget, thanking any divine force I can think of that they’re open until 10:00 pm on weeknights. I stand in the luggage aisle with no clue what to do, and end up taking home the cheapest suitcase that is bigger than mine without being what I think is ridiculous.

By 11:30 pm I am re-packed in my new but relatively flimsy suitcase. My friend Karl brings by cupcakes hugs, and is off. I sleep well, for the first time in days.

Wednesday, March 3

My friend Heather, who is a saint because I get to leave my things at her house for the next indefinite period of apartmentlessness, drives me to the airport. On the way she informs me that they probably won’t let me take my cupcake through security, since its not sealed. I think it’s funny that the TSA is afraid of cupcakes and flip-flops, but are apparently just fine with knitting needles, which I have carried on several planes in the past.

We drop by the bank so I can deposit and cash a few checks, and roll in to the airport right about 10:00 am. My flight departs at 10:53, so this is just perfect for checking in, rolling though security, and stepping onto the plane with little to no waiting at the gate.

Or so I think.

I very rarely check baggage when traveling. It has saved me many times when catching an earlier flight or having a short connection. It would have saved me this time. But remember that bag I ran out and bought at 10:00 last night? Not carry-on-able.

I get through the line and check in at a kiosk. It is now 10:10; 43 minutes before my flight. The computer informs me that, when checking baggage, you must check in 45 minutes in advance, so I am therefore too late. I talk to the attendants, but they shun me with a “those are the rules.” They take my bag and tell me I’m on standby for the next flight. At 1:30. I stand there with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes, and when they try to get me to move I ask “you seriously won’t let me get on my flight because I was standing in your line waiting for your check-in kiosk for two minutes too long?” Apparently so. Those are the rules.

I consider running to the gate and trying to get on the plane anyway, but decide against traveling before my suitcase. So I buy a latte and set up my mobile office at a coffee shop, and smile when I realize now I will be able to eat my cupcake before heading through security! That, and I’m feeling sheepish about being so angry when, in fact, this all could have been avoided if I’d gotten to the airport even ONE full hour in advance, like I know I’m supposed to. I’ve never been good at breaking rules. Though, somehow, I’m not terribly good at following them, either…

Most people hate sitting in airports, but aside from my joy of timing airports just perfectly to not wait around, when I do have to (particularly with layovers)  I actually find times like this great for work. You can’t go anywhere, you don’t know anyone. All you can do is open up the laptop and get to work. So I pop open a spreadsheet and… start emailing friends. Apparently the anonymity of the airport is no match for Gchat. I also manage to get cupcake ALL over myself; I am a two year old with chocolate everywhere.

Two hours later, I get on the flight with no problems save for hunger - cupcakes are NOT the food of champions. When the refreshment cart comes around I pull out my card and buy a snack box. I feel bad about eating chicken salad on the plane because of the smell, but at this point I’m so hungry I’m nauseous, so I go for it. An adorable baby peeks over the seat ahead of me. I smile, and settle in to composing some posts.

We safely arrive in Texas, and I head to baggage claim. When I arrive, a woman informs me that my suitcase arrived on an earlier flight. That’s right. They put my suitcase on the earlier flight and held me over anyway. Seriously? I question her about this, and get my second “That’s the rules” of the day. Okay, when did air travel become second grade?

But whatever. I head outside and see the Trek van pull up. They load my suitcase and compliment me on being a light packer. Indeed, I STILL have the smallest bag of anyone on the trip. I am so excited to finally be here that I can barely contain myself through the two hour ride from the airport in Houston to our hotel in Orange. Which, by the way, is terribly boring. The iPhone gets a lot of use during these two hours.

When we arrive, I open up my bag to get ready for dinner, and realize that my wallet is gone. Remember that snack box? Yeah. Well, since my tray was down with my laptop and food on it, I didn’t immediately put my wallet back into my bag. I didn’t later put it in my bag, either. I’m certain it fell off my lap and onto the plane seat, and in my haste to get off the plane I left it there.

We go to dinner and I take advantage of my brand new iPhone to start canceling credit cards and attempting to call the airport. This is basically what goes on for the rest of the night; no matter whether I call the airport or the airline, they keep directing me to the United Airlines’ Houston lost and found, which is a number that is not answered by a person. And the machine is a total bitch. All she can tell me is that the mailbox is full and to try again later. Around midnight, I give up.

Thursday, March 4

The first half of the day is relatively quiet, aside from my continued attempts to track down my wallet. I have at least one conversation that goes like this:

me: “I lost my wallet on the plane. I need to talk to someone who can tell me if it was found by the cleanup crew and if its at the airport”

guy in India: “I’m sorry, we can only help with checked baggage. For all carry-on items you must go to the airport and file a missing bag claim.”

me: “I’m two hours from the airport. I can’t get there. Who else can I call?”

guy in India: “I’m sorry ma’am I cannot help you with this situation. You must go to the airport.”

me: “So you’re saying that if I cannot physically go to the airport, that my lost item is just gone forever?”

guy in India: “I’m sorry ma’am but we cannot help you with your situation.”

Um, seriously? What. The. Hell.

I eventually get through to some superior folks at United Airlines, primarily by ignoring the auto-prompts and pretending that what I’ve lost is luggage, and repeatedly shouting “operator” at the automated thingy until it gives up and connects me with someone. They try to transfer me to the lost and found line. I quickly stop them and tell that story.

This gets a little bit of action. They put me on hold for nearly 25 minutes while they track down someone at the Houston airport to see if my wallet has been turned in. For some reason, they will not let me talk to anyone in Houston directly. When they come back all they can say is that it’s not there. They haven’t asked for a description, or my flight number, or anything. I’m pretty sure they just left me on hold, got some coffee, and came back and told me all hope is lost. Several more calls go like this. I spend nearly three hours of my morning on hold. I am never able to directly speak to anyone in Houston. I give up.

ONE phone call later, a new emergency credit card is being sent to me overnight. It will be at my hotel tomorrow. Two phone calls and one fax later, and I’ve got everything I need to have my driver’s license replaced from out of state. The only challenge with this one is getting the fee to them; I obviously have no way of sending a check. Luckily, my Dad happens to be passing by the DMV in Wisconsin as I call to ask for help, and he is able to stop in. Lori, the amazing angel of a woman who was helping me on the phone, runs down to the lobby so my Dad can give her the fee directly. This is not protocol. In fact, its probably against some rule somewhere. But Lori is amazing and goddamn do I miss the lovely, helpful people in Wisconsin.

I cannot believe what can be accomplished with a few phone calls and an email. (Okay, and an $80 overnight mailing, yikes!) And how amazingly, spectacularly unhelpful United Airlines’ customer service is. And how many friends offered to wire me money (and in some cases, cookies) to help me out. You all are amazing and I’m lucky to have your support. And, apparently, rapt attention on Facebook.

Throughout all of this I am worried, because the whole point of working on this tour, for me, is to demonstrate how awesome I’d be as a Trek Travel Guide. I’m thinking “well, now I’ve definitely demonstrated my high levels of responsibility and organization.” I’m just hoping I showed grace under fire; I never once freaked out or got outwardly stressed about the situation. And I resolved it, relatively quickly. And now I’ll know exactly what to do if a guest loses their I.D. or money. Right?

Oh, and did I mention that one of the other therapists made dinner for nine out of a rice cooker in her hotel bathroom and IT WAS AMAZING?

And yes, I tried some Shiner Bock.

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I write this post from a point of equilibrium – halfway between things. We’re almost exactly half of the way from Madison to Boulder, in Lincoln, NE where some friends have been so generous as to put Leah and I up for the night. So often our outside circumstances reflect our inner ones, and at the moment I’m feeling very neutral.

Leaving was hard. I knew I’d be sad, but I expected it to be more bittersweet than melancholy. I cried a lot, especially when watching my mother and then Ian shrink in my rearview mirror. The weight of those emotions only started to lift about 6 hours into the trip, as we watched the spectacular light show that the thunderstorms on the horizon put on for us. When you see something that massive and powerful and beautiful, you are reminded that your own life is but one small piece of so much more.

I had pictured my departure in my head like a scene from a movie – my closest friends and family in the driveway, all waving goodbye as I pulled away, music blaring, thrilled for my grand adventure. While I knew this wasn’t quite realistic – it was a workday, after all – I wasn’t quite prepared for the drawn out process of saying goodbye to people individually and doing so hours and hours before my departure. Many people I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to; last time I saw them I didn’t realize I wouldn’t be seeing them again. Pulling away from Ian’s apartment with him standing alone in the parking lot, waving until after I was out of sight was just painful and sad. Not the celebrated exit I had mentally prepared myself for.

When we finally left Madison, it was nearly 3 p.m., hours later than I’d planned. It was overcast and threatening rain, and the last place I set foot in Wisconsin was at the Supertarget, where we bought a cooler bag and a bottle of wine for our overnight hosts. It was weird. But Leah did take some video which made it feel more official and important.

And then we just started driving West. Infrequent downpours slowed us throughout Eastern Iowa; once it was so dense we had to pull over and wait it out. We listened to “The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” and noted funny names (Middle Raccoon and North Skunk rivers) and pulled out the videocamera each time we hit some kind of landmark. At 9:00 p.m. we were hungry and desperately hoping to find a place that would still serve us food; we nearly fell to our knees and bowed down in the parking lot of a Subway somewhere East of Council Bluffs.

Though I was exhausted last night, I can’t say I slept soundly. It’s always odd being in a place with unfamiliar sounds and smells, and that combined with anxiety and excitement pulled me in and out of waking consciousness all night. I am finally starting to feel excited this morning though. We’ll be in Colorado TODAY! It feels so surreal. But I suppose that’s how it is when you’re finally doing something you’ve talked about for so long, you weren’t even sure you believed yourself anymore.

As I move more into wakefulness this morning, the anxiety lingers and sadness about everyone I’m leaving behind still colors my thoughts, but joy and excitement are beginning to flood in.

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