To Juneau, Yet Again:

Part One: National Airport

It is only 6:30 AM and I am already annoyed.

I left the house at 5:15, having been up all night because first I couldn’t sleep and then, when I could, I was afraid I would oversleep. As I was lugging my bag and suitcase the five blocks to the metro station, one of the wheels on the suitcase (which I borrowed from the Vegetarian) came off. I proceeded to drag it the rest of the way, fairly certain the handle would be snapping off at any moment.

When I arrived at National Airport, I came off the elevator right at the Alaska Airlines check in station. On my three previous trips, I have used the electronic check in to print my boarding passes and enter my frequent flier number, and then dealt with the agents to check my bags. This morning, however, the people behind the counter were determined to help me through the whole process, so I handed over my ID and set the suitcase up on the scale.

“Your bag is over by about five pounds, sir.” Said the rather officious looking gentleman on the other side of the kiosk. “Is there something you can take out and put in your backpack?”

I now understood why it had felt like I was hauling around fifty pounds of dead weight behind me as I made my way to the airport.

“I have an empty box back here if you just want to check two items and distribute the weight.” Added the woman working with Officious Guy.

I started to pull the bag back off so I could figure out what five pound item I could remove and stick in my “backpack” (actually a soft briefcase, but what’s semantics when I am annoyed. Oh yeah, FUCKING EVERYTHING), when OC chimes in, “It’s a twenty five dollars overage fee, sir.”

“Well I don’t have twenty five dollars to give you.” I snapped back, choking down the remainder of my thought “So why don’t you STFU before I take this five pounds and stuff it down your throat.”

“Would you like the box sir?” asked Helpful Lady.

“That would be great.”

I pulled out some jeans, a few shirts and my camera and stuffed them in the box. I hastily filled out the ID tags for the luggage while Helpful Lady taped up my box. I got my boarding pass and headed for security.

I was so flustered by this experience that I forgot to have them do the whole frequent flier thing, so I am hoping I can get that dealt with at the help desk in Seattle. At the end of this trip, I will have flown on Alaska Airlines, since last November, enough miles to circumnavigate the globe. I am hoping to use those miles for free air travel so I can actually take a vacation next year. The bastards better give me my miles.

Part Two: Seattle

12:35 PM Local time. (3:35 EST) Much less annoyed.

The flight was delightfully uneventful. On a mostly full flight I had an empty seat between the woman sitting at the window and myself (I prefer aisle seats when flying), so there wasn’t the cramped sardine feeling one usually gets in coach. I slept for most of the almost five hour flight, waking up only when the beverage and food carts came trundling by.

I was awake long enough to notice the woman’s fabulous shoes and handbag.*

We actually arrived half an hour early in Seattle, so I was able to get my frequent flier miles adjusted. I spent about 45 minutes looking for a T-Mobile wi-fi** connection so I could check my email. In my quest, I discovered parts of the airport I had never seen before, including a series of columns with some very cool mosaic work on them. There is also a program here among the vendors that they will collect money for hurricane relief, and match every dollar donated. For whatever reason, that little bit of human compassion put me in a much better mood.

When I am traveling by myself, which is most of the time, I have found I retreat further into myself than usual. I am not sure why that is. I think it may be because I am somewhat obsessive about travel details, times, places, flight numbers, and I have a hard time feeling relaxed until I have made my last connection to wherever I am going. I probably just need to get my ass stranded somewhere and get over it. Just, not this trip.

Part 3 Tommorrow.

* And yes, I know this is why people think I'm gay. I'm OK with that. Flattered, in fact.

** I signed up for T-Mobile partly because of their nationwide coverage, especially in airports. So I am a little annoyed that their airport coverage seems confined to the first class lounges, especially when you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Starbucks in Seatac.