....yeah, okay, so I haven't exactly been posting regularly. But I am now! Let's see, since August...
- I left Texas to go to college in Southern California (which has been AWESOME),
- Released my short film, Deadly Notes,
- Switched majors (Psychology with a theatre minor, baby!),
- Got a pretty new camera (*cough* Canon EOS Rebel T3i *cough*),
- Started writing a webseries, which I'll hopefully be filming next semester and releasing during the summer,
- Procrastinated finishing said webseries BIG TIME (it WILL get done though, which is why I'm telling you. Hold me to it!),
- Made it through finals week
- Flew home (which included a lovely little adventure I'll get to in a minute),
- Less than 12 hours later, left on a road trip from Texas to Illinois, where the extended family is,
- Decided that I needed to be productive, so I should either work on the webseries or write a blog post,
- Chose the blog post.
So that's life lately. Now, to the flying home story I hinted at!
I left California on a sunny but slightly windy Friday (this past Friday, to be precise). My roommate and I had flights an hour apart and both had connecting flights in Dallas with layovers that overlapped. So we arrived at the airport at the same time, and she headed through security while I went to check my big suitcase. That went smoothly enough, and soon I was heading through the lovely, quick-moving and not very crowded security line at John Wayne International Airport (which, so far, is one of my favorite airports anywhere).
I should pause here and mention that I fly A LOT. I grew up flying. When I was little, up until my brother turned two, we flew to Grandma's house every Christmas and most summers. We took planes when we went on vacation. When we moved to Texas and started driving north for Christmas, I started going to Higher Things, an annual conference for Lutheran teens, with my youth group, and we flew. I've flown at least once a year every year since I was three. Airports, planes, and security are basically part of my world. I've been pulled aside in security all of one time. I was about eight and I'd gotten a clock for Christmas that apparently looked weird under the x-ray. Since then, it's all been smooth sailing. Until that day.
They pulled my bag out after running it through the x-ray. MY BAG. My bag which had no liquids, no sharp objects, NOTHING except power cords for my computer and phone, a small amount of clothing, and a kitchen appliance (this was for the annual gift exchange we do with my dad's side of the family. Kind of like white elephant, but the gifts are actually useful/cool/fun. My mom asked me to pick it up before I headed home and save her a trip to the store). But the TSA agent opened it up, took out the appliance box (this was the last time I'll ever do any of my mom's Christmas shopping for her, by the way), opened the box, took out the appliance, wiped it with a little cloth thing which was then placed in a machine to analyze it for EXPLOSIVES...by this point, I'd noticed my roommate sitting at the gate across from the checkpoint, and I got her attention.
When I turned back, the TSA agent was done making sure that my exchange gift wasn't going to kill anyone, she closed up my suitcase, ran it through the x-ray again (just in case) and put it back on the table next to the explosives-analyzing machine and told me I was good to go. Then she left it there, and I hesitantly picked it up, afraid someone was going to yell at me for taking a suitcase out of the TSA mini-explosives-lab.
Finally, after grabbing a snack (a ridiculously expensive highway-robbery-priced snack, I might add), I settled in at my gate, and had no more issues until...dun dun dun...Dallas.
I arrived in Dallas ready for a two-hour layover that didn't make much sense (I was only a 3-hour-drive from home, and I was waiting two hours to take a 33-minute flight and not get home until midnight). The departures board said that my flight, leaving at 10:35pm for Austin, would be at gate A20. I was in terminal C, so I hopped on the Skylink tram and sat through two stops before arriving at the right section of terminal A. I disembarked, pointed a lost-looking older lady in the right direction, and found A20... which now said Minneapolis/St. Paul. Coincidentally, that happened to be my roommate's flight, so I found her and said hi again before going back to the board. The board that said I now needed to go to C21. Sighing, I decided to grab dinner at the nearby barbeque place before making my way back to terminal C. They had a sign advertising breakfast, with no qualifications ("Breakfast served until 11 a.m., unless you want some, in which case we're no longer serving"...I have trouble getting breakfast during non-traditional breakfast times). I walked in, looked at the breakfast menu (which also had no time-related qualifications) and decided to ask what was on the Breakfast Platter. After waiting in line for several minutes, the man behind the counter informed me that they were no longer serving breakfast. I left, and began to grumble as soon as I was out of sight. Why is breakfast for dinner frowned upon in this society?!? ...Okay, maybe that's a whole other post right there...moving on!
Back at terminal C, I found my gate and, unfortunately, a lack of good food in the gate's immediate vicinity. By good, I mean not McDonald's and not overly expensive (I assume anything with a French name is expensive, even for airport food), so my dinner was a pretzel from Auntie Anne's. When I landed, I posted my location and layover time on Facebook, and now I was getting comments on that status from friend and high school classmate Chelsea, frantically asking for my gate. I told her, and subsequently discovered that she, two other friends and former classmates, and I were on the same flight! We met up, swapped first-year-of-college experiences, and before long it was time to board the plane.
- I left Texas to go to college in Southern California (which has been AWESOME),
- Released my short film, Deadly Notes,
- Switched majors (Psychology with a theatre minor, baby!),
- Got a pretty new camera (*cough* Canon EOS Rebel T3i *cough*),
- Started writing a webseries, which I'll hopefully be filming next semester and releasing during the summer,
- Procrastinated finishing said webseries BIG TIME (it WILL get done though, which is why I'm telling you. Hold me to it!),
- Made it through finals week
- Flew home (which included a lovely little adventure I'll get to in a minute),
- Less than 12 hours later, left on a road trip from Texas to Illinois, where the extended family is,
- Decided that I needed to be productive, so I should either work on the webseries or write a blog post,
- Chose the blog post.
So that's life lately. Now, to the flying home story I hinted at!
Orange County, CA to Dallas, TX
I left California on a sunny but slightly windy Friday (this past Friday, to be precise). My roommate and I had flights an hour apart and both had connecting flights in Dallas with layovers that overlapped. So we arrived at the airport at the same time, and she headed through security while I went to check my big suitcase. That went smoothly enough, and soon I was heading through the lovely, quick-moving and not very crowded security line at John Wayne International Airport (which, so far, is one of my favorite airports anywhere).
I should pause here and mention that I fly A LOT. I grew up flying. When I was little, up until my brother turned two, we flew to Grandma's house every Christmas and most summers. We took planes when we went on vacation. When we moved to Texas and started driving north for Christmas, I started going to Higher Things, an annual conference for Lutheran teens, with my youth group, and we flew. I've flown at least once a year every year since I was three. Airports, planes, and security are basically part of my world. I've been pulled aside in security all of one time. I was about eight and I'd gotten a clock for Christmas that apparently looked weird under the x-ray. Since then, it's all been smooth sailing. Until that day.
They pulled my bag out after running it through the x-ray. MY BAG. My bag which had no liquids, no sharp objects, NOTHING except power cords for my computer and phone, a small amount of clothing, and a kitchen appliance (this was for the annual gift exchange we do with my dad's side of the family. Kind of like white elephant, but the gifts are actually useful/cool/fun. My mom asked me to pick it up before I headed home and save her a trip to the store). But the TSA agent opened it up, took out the appliance box (this was the last time I'll ever do any of my mom's Christmas shopping for her, by the way), opened the box, took out the appliance, wiped it with a little cloth thing which was then placed in a machine to analyze it for EXPLOSIVES...by this point, I'd noticed my roommate sitting at the gate across from the checkpoint, and I got her attention.
When I turned back, the TSA agent was done making sure that my exchange gift wasn't going to kill anyone, she closed up my suitcase, ran it through the x-ray again (just in case) and put it back on the table next to the explosives-analyzing machine and told me I was good to go. Then she left it there, and I hesitantly picked it up, afraid someone was going to yell at me for taking a suitcase out of the TSA mini-explosives-lab.
Finally, after grabbing a snack (a ridiculously expensive highway-robbery-priced snack, I might add), I settled in at my gate, and had no more issues until...dun dun dun...Dallas.
Dallas, Or The Reason I Don't Like American Airlines
I arrived in Dallas ready for a two-hour layover that didn't make much sense (I was only a 3-hour-drive from home, and I was waiting two hours to take a 33-minute flight and not get home until midnight). The departures board said that my flight, leaving at 10:35pm for Austin, would be at gate A20. I was in terminal C, so I hopped on the Skylink tram and sat through two stops before arriving at the right section of terminal A. I disembarked, pointed a lost-looking older lady in the right direction, and found A20... which now said Minneapolis/St. Paul. Coincidentally, that happened to be my roommate's flight, so I found her and said hi again before going back to the board. The board that said I now needed to go to C21. Sighing, I decided to grab dinner at the nearby barbeque place before making my way back to terminal C. They had a sign advertising breakfast, with no qualifications ("Breakfast served until 11 a.m., unless you want some, in which case we're no longer serving"...I have trouble getting breakfast during non-traditional breakfast times). I walked in, looked at the breakfast menu (which also had no time-related qualifications) and decided to ask what was on the Breakfast Platter. After waiting in line for several minutes, the man behind the counter informed me that they were no longer serving breakfast. I left, and began to grumble as soon as I was out of sight. Why is breakfast for dinner frowned upon in this society?!? ...Okay, maybe that's a whole other post right there...moving on!
Back at terminal C, I found my gate and, unfortunately, a lack of good food in the gate's immediate vicinity. By good, I mean not McDonald's and not overly expensive (I assume anything with a French name is expensive, even for airport food), so my dinner was a pretzel from Auntie Anne's. When I landed, I posted my location and layover time on Facebook, and now I was getting comments on that status from friend and high school classmate Chelsea, frantically asking for my gate. I told her, and subsequently discovered that she, two other friends and former classmates, and I were on the same flight! We met up, swapped first-year-of-college experiences, and before long it was time to board the plane.
We all got on, stowed our carry-on bags, and listened to the same old presentations on proper seat-belt-buckling, why you shouldn't try to inflate the bag attached to your oxygen mask, and where flotation devices can be found (in case we land in water between Dallas and Austin, of course). Take-off was normal, except the weird bang just as we lifted off the ground and the fact that the plane was vibrating for the next fifteen minutes (half the flight), until we were informed that our ENGINE was malfunctioning and we needed to turn around and go BACK to Dallas (because we couldn't just travel the same distance forward and be in Austin, could we?).
On the ground in Dallas, mechanics checked whether our engine problem was a quick fix (it wasn't), and we were told to get off the plane and wait at the gate for more information.
It was about 11:30 (the time we were supposed to arrive in Austin) by this point. I and my traveling companions/high school friends sat with our luggage, grumbled, and debated whether there was time to watch Bridesmaids before they had a new plane for us. Finally, at about 12:10, we were moved to a new gate and told that as soon as they cleaned the plane (not that any of us cared whether the plane was clean at this point), we could be on our way.
Then, at about 12:20, we were informed that something was wrong with the second plane, and they moved us to ANOTHER gate (several gates away), where we again waited, quickly losing hope of ever making it to Austin and wishing that 18-and-19-year-olds could rent cars (we were only 3 hours away!).
Finally, we got on the third plane, and were told that the overnight cleaning crew had already gotten a hold of the second plane and were taking it apart for a full cleaning. The first plane had apparently made a sound that sounded like engine failure, hence our return to Dallas.
Thankfully, this plane had no problems, and we landed in Austin at 1:55 a.m.. Of course, having a checked bag and living 45 minutes from the airport, I didn't get home until 3. I was supposed to meet friends that morning for breakfast.
On the ground in Dallas, mechanics checked whether our engine problem was a quick fix (it wasn't), and we were told to get off the plane and wait at the gate for more information.
It was about 11:30 (the time we were supposed to arrive in Austin) by this point. I and my traveling companions/high school friends sat with our luggage, grumbled, and debated whether there was time to watch Bridesmaids before they had a new plane for us. Finally, at about 12:10, we were moved to a new gate and told that as soon as they cleaned the plane (not that any of us cared whether the plane was clean at this point), we could be on our way.
Then, at about 12:20, we were informed that something was wrong with the second plane, and they moved us to ANOTHER gate (several gates away), where we again waited, quickly losing hope of ever making it to Austin and wishing that 18-and-19-year-olds could rent cars (we were only 3 hours away!).
Finally, we got on the third plane, and were told that the overnight cleaning crew had already gotten a hold of the second plane and were taking it apart for a full cleaning. The first plane had apparently made a sound that sounded like engine failure, hence our return to Dallas.
Thankfully, this plane had no problems, and we landed in Austin at 1:55 a.m.. Of course, having a checked bag and living 45 minutes from the airport, I didn't get home until 3. I was supposed to meet friends that morning for breakfast.
