I was not meant to fly

As the post title says, I was not meant to fly.

Last week I was sent to North Carolina for job training. While I don't mind having a bit of a vacation and time away from home, I had thoroughly decided that I cannot really tolerate going anywhere by plane. Coming home from North Carolina was the most stressful four hours I've had in a long time. Because not only was my first flight delayed to the point that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to catch my connection flight, but my second flight was also delayed and then it was "rocky" the entire flight.

I know that this is probably something that fairly normal for people who fly all the time. You get delays, you get turbulence, you spend a lot of time trying to find the correct gate, running across the entire span of Atlanta's airport while people in front of you hog the entirety of the escalator, chatting freely when you need to get by in a rush. And then when you ask if they could, maybe please let you go by because you're in a hurry, they give you dirty looks.

And the staff of the airport don't make things easy on you either. Telling me that thirty minutes is plenty of time for me to catch my connection flight was NOT something that would placate my nerves. Arriving in Atlanta at 8:25 PM and having a flight at 8:55 PM was enough to make me want to hurl something or cry. I really wanted to ask the girl whether or not she'd actually seen Atlanta's airport, because thirty minutes was not enough time to wait for your carry-on and then speed from a Gate A12 to Gate C38.

Of course, I made it in time to realize that my connection flight had been delayed by twenty minutes anyway.

Go figure. I make a big fuss about not getting to my flight on time and I find out that I had plenty of time to move slowly. And thanks to the guy who happily checked some carry-on bags so that they would be transferred from one plane to another due to lack of space in the overhead compartments for carry-on luggage, I didn't have to wait to pick up my bag and could just rush off to my next gate.

So... I guess it really wasn't that bad once I made it onto my next plane and got home.

But still... for someone who has flown for a total of three trips within the year, I think I've reached my quota and I shall gladly stay on the ground.

***

North Carolina was very green. I saw the ground from my window seat on the flight there. A very pretty place with lots of trees and grass and lots of land. The training was two days and so I was pretty much there and back and it felt like I hadn't even really been out of town. It was a nice place, but it felt much more stressful than my trip to Chicago only because I hadn't had time to adjust before I needed to readjust to my sleeping schedule. For two days, I had to make sure to wake up in the morning and actually sleep during the nighttime. And as soon as I was adjusted, I got home and needed to figure out how to switch back to staying up all night for my shift the next day... well, the next night.

This switching back and forth isn't too bad if I didn't have such a set time to be up and go to sleep. Then again, the hotel room was an actual suite with a living room, kitchen and a bedroom, so at least I slept comfortably. I watched television on the couch until I was sleepy enough to transfer myself to the bed and then watched television on the bed until I finally fell asleep. It would have been nice to stay in that suite for an extra few days instead of just two nights. And so maybe in the future, just for the heck of it, I'll take a nice road trip somewhere and stay in a hotel for the weekend or something just to relax... even if I don't go anywhere.

Sometimes, you just need to be away from home and have a hotel room all to yourself. It's actually pretty darn nice.

When I was in Chicago, it felt pretty nice to have a hotel room to myself for four nights in a row. I could spread all of my clothes out on one bed, sprawl myself out on the other and just be lazy all evening until it was time to sleep. I could call room service for dinner and just walk around like I owned the place.

***

In other news, third shift is good to me, I'm going to be seeing my best friend in a few days and I have gotten myself a new computer to replace the one that has been breaking on me. My brother is going to try to spend the summer figuring out what had happened to that computer; it's not old, but it likes to crash at random times and as I am not a very computer savvy type, I was starting to get a little annoyed that I didn't know what was wrong with it, my brothers hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong with it, and it was just being so random that I would probably end up throwing it out the window before my brothers got around to doing some more in-depth investigation.

Oh, and I think those sneaky wisdom teeth of mine have finally decided that it's time to torment.

Anyway... blogging is pretty fun. I really, really should get back into it more often. It's just that, a lot of things I want to talk about have to do with work, but where I work, I absolutely CANNOT say a lot of things as according to HIPAA. And so rather than trying to pick and choose my stories and heavily editing it so that it's appropriate, I've chose just to be safe and not talk about my job at all if I can help it. I can talk about my other job... but who wants to hear me whine and complain about the part-time food service/hospitality job I do and all the irrational people I meet regularly? :D