Friday, February 06, 2004
I hope heaven has an IKEA
Yesterday was another one of those eventful travel experiences. Not as eventful as this one, thank God, but eventful nonetheless. It was a day of extreme highs and lows. As in, I got to eat my favorite sandwich (a Jimmy John's vegetarian sub, no cucumber) for the first time in almost two years, I made a pilgrimage to my personal mecca (IKEA) where I bought a duvet cover for $20, and I found a really awesome BXR-like radio station in Chicago that played Ani DiFranco and Lucinda Williams. But then I almost died.
Until I got on the plane yesterday evening to head home from my business trip, my day was going so swimmingly that I didn't even mind getting stuck in rush hour traffic on the way to the airport. I didn't mind having to fill up my rental car with gas on Cicero Avenue, amongst people of varying degrees of shadiness. I didn't even mind that my flight was delayed a little, because it looked like they were at least going to get us out of Chicago before the big snowstorm hit. Of course, I soon found out that taking off in the middle of an impending snowstorm is not exactly fun.
But as I would later find out, it's a piece of cake compared to landing during an impending tornado, which was what greeted me upon my return to Birmingham. I tried to ignore the extreme turbulence by distracting myself with the crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine. But soon it was time to put the tray table up for our descent into Birmingham. By that time, the turbulence had gotten so bad anyway that I could barely hold on to the magazine, let alone put pen to paper in any sort of meaningful fashion.
Without the crossword puzzle to occupy my mind, there was nothing to do but sit there and contemplate the various scenarios of what I was certain was my impending death. This was a little less than comforting, so I decided to beseech God with the following prayer:
"God, please don't let me die. You know how long it has taken me to find an inexpensive duvet cover [nearly four years, for those of you reading who are not all-powerful dieties and are not familiar with my duvet-cover search]. Wouldn't it be sad if, having finally found this duvet cover, I was never able to put it on my bed? Not to mention the various other repercussions of dying in a fiery plane crash."
Shortly after I finished this prayer, the flight attendant came on the intercom to sing us a little song that went like this (I am not making this up):
"Here we go!
Here we go!
Flying through the air!
Flying through the air!
We jump and we bump and we twist and we twirl!
Your toes will curl and you'll want to hurl!
But don't throw up!
Or you'll have to clean it up!"
Several people clapped for the song. I shot a withering look toward the front of the cabin and wondered if the singing meant that things weren't that bad, or if things were SO bad that the flight attendant was trying to distract us with the singing.
I didn't have much time to wonder, because suddenly there was a large flash of light accompanied by a popping sound directly outside my window. Not really a bang (which would have caused me to wet myself), but definitely a loud pop, which caused me to jump and then grip my armrests in abject terror. Apparently the flash and loud popping noise did not have the same effect on the other passengers, most of whom started laughing. Laughing! I kid you not! Hello, people, this is not the freaking Fourth of July! Flashes and loud popping when you're 10,000 feet in the air does not equal fun and happy times for everyone, but rather impending doom!
Fortunately, the flash/popping sound didn't seem to have any adverse effect on the mechanics of the plane, but the turbulence continued and in fact seemed to worsen until the moment the wheels touched the runway. My horror also increased, as did the general mirth of the rest of the cabin. They seemed to think we were on some fun, Disneyland-esque ride. Perhaps they are unaware that rides at Disneyland generally do not end with a fiery plummet to your ultimate demise. At any rate, when the plane landed in Birmingham, I got the hell off of it as fast as I could. About half of the passengers stayed on to continue to Tampa. I was extremely glad Birmingham happened to be my final destination, because there's no way in hell I would have gone up in that plane again.
Alas, the journey ended on a good note. After I made my way home, I noticed that the trees outside my apartment are beginning to bud. Which means...spring will soon be here! So with the sandwich, the cheap duvet cover, the good radio, the not dying and the arrival of spring, the overall prognosis on this trip is good.
Thank you, God. My duvet thanks you, too.
Yesterday was another one of those eventful travel experiences. Not as eventful as this one, thank God, but eventful nonetheless. It was a day of extreme highs and lows. As in, I got to eat my favorite sandwich (a Jimmy John's vegetarian sub, no cucumber) for the first time in almost two years, I made a pilgrimage to my personal mecca (IKEA) where I bought a duvet cover for $20, and I found a really awesome BXR-like radio station in Chicago that played Ani DiFranco and Lucinda Williams. But then I almost died.
Until I got on the plane yesterday evening to head home from my business trip, my day was going so swimmingly that I didn't even mind getting stuck in rush hour traffic on the way to the airport. I didn't mind having to fill up my rental car with gas on Cicero Avenue, amongst people of varying degrees of shadiness. I didn't even mind that my flight was delayed a little, because it looked like they were at least going to get us out of Chicago before the big snowstorm hit. Of course, I soon found out that taking off in the middle of an impending snowstorm is not exactly fun.
But as I would later find out, it's a piece of cake compared to landing during an impending tornado, which was what greeted me upon my return to Birmingham. I tried to ignore the extreme turbulence by distracting myself with the crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine. But soon it was time to put the tray table up for our descent into Birmingham. By that time, the turbulence had gotten so bad anyway that I could barely hold on to the magazine, let alone put pen to paper in any sort of meaningful fashion.
Without the crossword puzzle to occupy my mind, there was nothing to do but sit there and contemplate the various scenarios of what I was certain was my impending death. This was a little less than comforting, so I decided to beseech God with the following prayer:
"God, please don't let me die. You know how long it has taken me to find an inexpensive duvet cover [nearly four years, for those of you reading who are not all-powerful dieties and are not familiar with my duvet-cover search]. Wouldn't it be sad if, having finally found this duvet cover, I was never able to put it on my bed? Not to mention the various other repercussions of dying in a fiery plane crash."
Shortly after I finished this prayer, the flight attendant came on the intercom to sing us a little song that went like this (I am not making this up):
"Here we go!
Here we go!
Flying through the air!
Flying through the air!
We jump and we bump and we twist and we twirl!
Your toes will curl and you'll want to hurl!
But don't throw up!
Or you'll have to clean it up!"
Several people clapped for the song. I shot a withering look toward the front of the cabin and wondered if the singing meant that things weren't that bad, or if things were SO bad that the flight attendant was trying to distract us with the singing.
I didn't have much time to wonder, because suddenly there was a large flash of light accompanied by a popping sound directly outside my window. Not really a bang (which would have caused me to wet myself), but definitely a loud pop, which caused me to jump and then grip my armrests in abject terror. Apparently the flash and loud popping noise did not have the same effect on the other passengers, most of whom started laughing. Laughing! I kid you not! Hello, people, this is not the freaking Fourth of July! Flashes and loud popping when you're 10,000 feet in the air does not equal fun and happy times for everyone, but rather impending doom!
Fortunately, the flash/popping sound didn't seem to have any adverse effect on the mechanics of the plane, but the turbulence continued and in fact seemed to worsen until the moment the wheels touched the runway. My horror also increased, as did the general mirth of the rest of the cabin. They seemed to think we were on some fun, Disneyland-esque ride. Perhaps they are unaware that rides at Disneyland generally do not end with a fiery plummet to your ultimate demise. At any rate, when the plane landed in Birmingham, I got the hell off of it as fast as I could. About half of the passengers stayed on to continue to Tampa. I was extremely glad Birmingham happened to be my final destination, because there's no way in hell I would have gone up in that plane again.
Alas, the journey ended on a good note. After I made my way home, I noticed that the trees outside my apartment are beginning to bud. Which means...spring will soon be here! So with the sandwich, the cheap duvet cover, the good radio, the not dying and the arrival of spring, the overall prognosis on this trip is good.
Thank you, God. My duvet thanks you, too.
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