...And They're Off and Running!!!

Its 2am and we finally made it to Rochester.

Rochester is the end of the line. Literally. Any departing flight goes to a much busier, acknowledged and warmer destination. No one uses the Rochester Airport for entertaining lay-overs. Last time Dad and I came out to find housing, I flew through Cleveland. I was stranded there for the night while the whole west side of New York was pummeled with snow. I did make friends with the 3 birds that live in the D Terminal in the Cleveland Airport. If you do have to stay overnight, I recommend the Airport Sheraton. It’s lovely.

Much to my own dismay, my dad booked flights on Delta Airlines from San Francisco through Detroit to get to Rochester. In my experience, Delta has, by far, the worst customer service I have ever encountered. I will be drafting a letter soon. I digress. Our journey began early this morning. San Francisco was a mess. There were so many people who apparently have never been to an airport before. People were trying to sneak water bottles and liquids, carry on bags were stuffed to the limit, only 2 TSA agents were checking IDs for a HUGE line and people were just moving slowly. This drives me nuts. And anyone who has ever traveled with me knows that I always have my computer out ready to go, I always wear shoes that are easily removed, and always have a plan for security, down to how many plastic bins I need and in what order all of my belongings will go through the x-ray machine. I guess no one else puts that much effort into airport security.

We were set to leave on time today. Everything was fine until this woman comes down the aisle of our plane with a oversized backpack and carry on, neither of which fit in their designated spots. I sat the rest of the 5 hour flight with this woman’s feet in my personal space, with my dad to my left, her backpack in the middle of our row (which was a problem when dad had to get out to walk around) and her big winter coat sitting in her lap. Utter Disaster. She was also reading a book in Greek. The next disaster was that we landed 20 minutes late. We sat that the gate at SFO doing nothing for 30 minutes. This plane was also the longest plane in existence: 50 rows, 3 seats on each side, one aisle, and like 6 sassy flight attendants. Debarking the plane literally took 20 extra minutes. After waiting and waiting and waiting for everyone to get off the dumb plane, dad and I made a MAD dash for our next flight- two terminals away. We were already 20 minutes late, it took another 20 minutes to get off of the plane which left 10 minutes max to get to the next gate (via the sensory stimulus overload of a tunnel between terminals—we’re talking lights flashing, sounds booming in a poorly lit thing). Let’s just say that it’s painfully obvious that I need to add some cardio to my “workout” routine.

We arrived to the gate… just in time to see our plane push off from the jetway.

Next plan? Fly into Buffalo, NY and drive to Rochester. This flight was leaving in 5 hours and just one gate away from where our marathon sprint began. Everything else after that was gravy. After much reflection I have rearranged my “I won’t fly (to)” list to the following:
I Won’t Fly: Delta Airlines

I Won’t fly to Detroit (unless I have a longer lay-over)

Edits: I will Fly to Chicago-O’Hare (Its time to bury the hatchet).

We arrived in Buffalo just before midnight, hopped in the car, plugged in the GPS and ran out of windshield wiper fluid. This road trip felt like it was something out of “Tommy Boy." We had the windows down with the heat blasting the entire way to Rochester to keep the ice from obstructing dad’s view.

I told him that one-day we will look back and have a good laugh about this day.

Tomorrow I pick up my keys, unpack my boxes, pick up the car among other little errands. We’ll see what time Dad and I actually get moving tomorrow.

Goodnight!