Should there be any lingering doubt that we do not belong in Normal, this evening's shenanigans offered undeniable proof that we "gotta-get out of this place." After a fine trip to the N-Dub, we arrived at the airport to catch a plane back to Chi town. An hour and a half early, plenty of time, but there was a slight curiousity that led P and I to believe there might be stormy waters ahead. After standing in line for a little bit, we noticed that a rather substantial line was forming at the bag scanner across the way. Now, I don't have any beef with bag scanners, I am thankful for them, but this particular crew seemed terribly inefficient. There was literally a moment where P stopped me and said "we need to consolidate and carry this stuff on," but having my shaving cream, hair gel and razor blades confiscated on the way over, I wasn't about to donate any more loot to the airline crews (btw, do you ever wonder where that stuff goes?) . . .
So we left our bags at the security desk and hustled over to the gate. . .
Fast foward four hours, two bags of lorna doons and a sack of bagel chips later and we are standing expectantly at a baggage claim rotunda. for an hour. and. a. half. No bags. WTF? Go to claims. Takes another half an hour. File a claim. Get on the shuttle to go get our car.
"Where's yo bags?" the shuttle driver asks.
"Lost!" we reply.
"Southwest?" he asks.
"Yup" in unison.
"heheheheh"
"yeah, pretty funny"
We get to the car. Click unlock. No dice. Click click. Nope.
P: battery's dead!
K: yup (I am filtering)
P: See if you can go find someone.
K: 'kay
Car gets jumped (thankfully), we drive off (speedily).
Seriously, two in one day? Dang. At least we gotta bison burger and a cookie on the way home. The hound is good for those who want to know. Doggy camp served him and us well.
Hopefully, we get our bags soon. Stay posted. As yet however, we can't even get a hold of the baggage claim crew. Am I the only person who thinks my bags are a priority? I don't need an answer . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment