Into a Dream

When I was a kid, I was enamored by William Sleator. In fact, in third grade, I was picked as the representative from my class to go to a writer’s conference, where I also got to meet William Sleator.  I had a copy of his book, Into a Dream, and he autographed it. I will never forget that day.

A year or so later, my dog ate the book.

Anyways, the reason for this post has nothing to do with William Sleator, the book, or the dog.

Lately, I have had some pretty wild dreams. And while they are all very different, the concept in the dream is always the same, which led me to the all-knowing Google to find out what that mean.

In one of the dreams, I am at the beach. Various members of my family are with me.  Suddenly a tsunami hits, and water starts rising. We climb to the top of a building trying to find safety, while the water continues to rise.

I wake up before the water gets us.

A couple nights ago, I was at an outdoor mall of some sort. While walking through one of the “roads”, someone warns us that this road floods everyday at the same time and we only had about 10 minutes to get out before the flood came. For some reason, we couldn’t make it out in time, and we became trapped in the rising water. The water rose, taller than the buildings. My family and I became separated and I struggled to stay afloat. When the water receded  I found my family members, except for one, and then I woke up. Terrified.

At first I thought, this must be the way I am going to die.

Then I figured- let’s be rational. Let’s google this.

From DreamMoods.com :

To dream that water is rising up in your house suggests that you are becoming overwhelmed by your emotions.

To dream that a wall of water is coming towards you implies that your emotions are welling up and can potentially close you off to others.

A body of water rising over your head, or you being pulled under water, can represent a feeling of overwhelm in real life.

So there you have it. I am overwhelmed. Duh.

For those that know me, know my inner-conflict.  I have moved five times in my adult life. Each time, I have never really looked back. In two weeks, I am moving again. But this time, I don’t want to.

I really feel like it is the perfect lose-lose situation for me.

I stay in South Carolina- I stay alone. My family, including husband and kids, are back in the  Heartland of Ohio, having moved back six months ago.

I don’t want to stay anywhere without my family. But, I don’t want to leave South Carolina.

I drive down the now-familiar roads here everyday and feel sadness. I look at each house, each tree, each road sign, in an attempt to memorize it.

I go into the local grocery store and am overwhelmed by depression. I hear the southern accents, and I know I am leaving them for my regular old Giant Eagle I shopped at for years. I am leaving behind somewhere I have truly enjoyed living for two years.

Sure, I can come back and visit. But it won’t be the same. I can drive by my house, but it won’t be mine anymore. I can go into the grocery store, and hear those southern accents, but it will just make me sad. It will make me sad that I have been missing that.

I mean, it is what it is at this point. I am going back. Today, we had a showing on our house. Apparently  someone else is interested in it. My house. Which, in two weeks, will no longer be mine.

I’ll miss driving by the park once a week as I head into town. I’ll miss the cotton fields as they light up the green earth with white. I’ll miss the daily dose of sunshine. I’ll miss the different way of life that is the south. Less “keeping up with the Jones’s” and more “waving at your neighbor as they sit on their rickety front porch drinking sweet tea”.

I’ll miss it. I’ll miss it badly.

When moving weekend comes, my husband will surely have to drag me out, kicking and screaming. I might even spread my arms and legs so I won’t fit through the door.

But, what can I do? As I said earlier, I don’t want to live alone…

The last two years were an adventure. A wonderful one. We lived among true southern culture. And I will be back.

I will not move to Myrtle Beach, or Charleston, or other tourist-trap towns. They aren’t the same.

I’ll live once again in a small, southern town, where people know how to slow down and enjoy life. Where people know what real-life values are, and should be.

I’ll miss you South Carolina~ but I’ll be back one day.

Weekend in Savannah: Day One

Several weeks ago, I had a chance for a getaway to Savannah. This time my mother flew down to join me. It was a spectacular weekend, but honestly, it wouldn’t have been a very “jen” weekend had we not encountered several ummm…interesting mishaps?

I will hit upon the highlights. And this will still have to be written in two parts.

First things first. We head downtown. For those that have never been to Savannah~ what the heck? Get there!

Downtown is bustling, way more than I anticipated. Parking is a you-know-what. We drive around and around. Around some more. And a little more. Finally, we spot a parking spot along a circle drive. While there are No Parking signs, we decide that since everyone else is parking there, we will too. Don’t worry~ the mishap in this little event is not a parking ticket. Or a tow. It’s the twenty minutes it took me to park my Yukon in a small parallel parking spot. Yeah. Not good. A few onlookers even stopped to watch. And laugh. What could I do? I smiled and laughed with them. And, somehow managed to grease up the truck and fit it in.

Oh, and while I was working on this, my mother was in the passenger seat on the telephone making Ghost Walk reservations for us that night. Savannah ghost walk! (For the record, we went with Chase Alexander tours and he was awesome! A little history, a little ghost stories, and a ton of fun!) I was pumped…

We shopped for a while and… well we bought stuff.  As we headed down one of the cobbled pathways, we really wanted to find the candy shop. Savannah’s Candy Kitchen is to die for. My mom thinks it’s to the right, so we start walking. And walking. And walking.

Guess what?  It was to the left.  So we turn around and walk back. And walk. And walk. We finally reach the store, excited and anxious to go buy one of their way-overpriced tins, so we can fill it with candy. The deal is, you buy a tin, you can fill it with candy for free. They have barrels full of all kinds of candy. It’s heaven.  We take 45 minutes picking out the perfect tins for the kids. My mom wants to get tins for each of the grandkids. We browse. We debate. We try to decide. Finally, almost an hour later, tins in hand, we walk over to the barrels of candy. That’s when I noticed the sign.

FILL YOUR TINS WITH TAFFY.

Taffy? Not the regular barrels of candy?  My mom asks a woman working there. She confirms. No candy, only taffy. I told my mom we needed to ask someone else. I didn’t like her answer. We find another worker, ask him, and he too, confirms. I am not happy about this rule. The guy just shrugged and said, “Budget cuts”. My mom and I look at each other, make disgusted grunts and groans.

“Should we still get the tins?” My mom asks. I shake my head.

“No. The fun part is stuffing them with candy. Who cares about those over-priced good-for-nothing tins.”  We put them back and leave.

Next stop? Dinner at the Pirate’s House. After a delicious meal of Pecan Fried Chicken (Yum-O, even if I picked off all the pecans), we leave for our ghost walk. In search of Johnson Square, our meeting point, we drive around for 30 minutes looking for parking, only to find one RIGHT AT Johnson Square! It was our lucky day. Not only that, Starbucks was one block over. After getting a coffee, we head off in the night to meet our Ghost Guide, Chase Alexander.  Let the ghostly times begin!

As we arrive at one of our first stops, Moon River Brewery, the hostess stops us at the door. Apparently, the building was overcapacity and there was an art show on the second floor. We could not go in. Chase was devastated but did his best to move on. Moon River is one of the most haunted Savannah places- has been on TV many times. Especially the unfinished second floor (which has never been remodeled even though several owners have tried. The ghosts stop will them.)

We move on down a dark alleyway, and Chase begins to tell us of Little Gracie. Being the Savannah obsessed person I am, I already knew the Little Gracie story, but that doesn’t stop me from hanging on his every word. Suddenly, our story is interrupted.

Some very, very, very intoxicated people are heading our way. To keep this blog G-rated, I won’t go into detail. It was crazy. They were crazy. But it only lasted a minute or two, and again Chase handled it like a pro, even making jokes about them as we moved on.

A couple stops down the road we are told the story of an old building in which the 3rd floor is vacant. No one has ever been able to live there. No one. As we are engrossed in his story, we don’t quite notice the middle-aged creepy man watching us. He is standing at the doorway of building and glaring at us all. For a moment, I wonder if he is real.  I get my answer as we start to walk down the street.

“Hey, man.” Creepy guy says to Chase.  Chase takes a deep breath.

“Yes?”

“Whatcha saying about my building? There’s nothing wrong with it. You trying to say it’s haunted? Cuz, it ain’t. I never saw nothin’.”

“Look, I’m just doing a tour here. You don’t have to do this to me every time I come by. And, you don’t even live in the building I am talking about. You live next door.” Chase keeps walking. The creepy man follows us. I laugh.

Next stop, is a haunted lock shop. As he begins to tell us the story of the lock shop, we notice the apartment above has their light on. And a half-falling-down curtain. A young man notices us through the window, and starts dancing. Curtain promptly falls down as he dances. Like really, really dancing in the window. It is too funny not to laugh at this shirtless, bad-dancing. young mad and poor Chase is telling a serious ghost story. When Chase looks up to see our dancing man, he too, cannot help but chuckle.

“Low self-esteem folks. Low self-esteem.” We crack up.

At the end of the tour, Chase apologizes for all the crazy stuff that has happened.

“In all my years…” he shakes his head, clearly embarrassed and apologetic. He offered us all a free ghost walk in the future for us or a friend, and offered to meet us tomorrow morning if we wanted to get inside Moon River Brewery.  Honestly, I felt bad that he felt so bad, because it was an awesome ghost walk. Of course, my mom and I really wanted to see Moon River so we planned to meet him in the morning.

As we head back to the truck, we jump in, exhaustion and sore feet tormenting us, when my mom shrieks. I jump out of my skin.

“You have a ticket! You have a ticket!”  She is frantically pointing at my windshield wiper. Again, although I should be upset I have a parking ticket, my mom’s reaction is too funny not to laugh. I laugh until my stomach hurts, while my mom grumbles obscenities under her breath. This make me laugh even harder.

The next day will find us fighting with coffee cups, going on wild-goose chases, dealing with the homeless and searching for lost graves. The next day was even better.

Stay tuned for Day Two in Savannah.

The Appalachian Trail

Thus far, I have been unable to convince any family/friends to hike the Appalachian with me. I don’t want to do the entire trail at once~ maybe 2-3 days worth.

I just watched a documentary on the trail, and now I am reinvigorated in my desire to hike it. Seriously. Badly. It’s also on my bucket list, and I’m not getting any younger here. I have yet to figure out how to do that…

This post is an official recruitment notice. If you would be interested in hiking it, let me know. Let’s do this.

The easiest sections seem to be the Georgia and Tennessee portion. I think the Virginia/West Virginia route looks cool.  Hands down, though, people rave about the New England trail section.  That is also the most difficult terrain, AND I will only do that in the summer. I hate cold.

I mean, c’mon, isn’t this lovely:

And, for those that are worried about supplies, there are stores and restaurants along the way in some areas. The trail also winds it’s way through small towns.

We can even do a picture or video blog as we go!

Anyone? …   Anyone?

Goats on the loose!

Seriously folks, I have an uncanny ability to spot animals in places they shouldn’t be.  The problem, is that no one else sees them, and consequently, thinks I am nuts.

Take the donkeys for example. Years ago, we used to drive down a fairly secluded section of road. Overgrown grass and bushes, and in one area, a billboard sign rises out of the ground and looms over a nearby highway.

One day, while driving by, I see something out of place.

“Look! Oh my God, there’s a donkey there by the billboard!”

“A donkey?” Asks my husband, his eyebrows raising in doubt.

“I didn’t see a donkey, Mom,” says child.

“Well, it was there. Turn around, let’s go back and look.”

For months I would spot the donkey in this random remote patch of field by the billboard. His ears barely standing over the tall grass and brush. No one else believed me, as they never saw him. Until one bright summer day. We drove by, slowly as usual so I could look for the donkey, and this time….it happened. They saw the donkey! I was so relieved.

To this day I have never seen that donkey again,

I had a similar donkey incident at a waste water treatment plant but I won’t go into details on that one. Again, though, I was finally proven to be right. When the kids tell me I am seeing things now, all I have to say is, “Remember the donkeys?” And instantly they are quiet.

Now the goats.

My home office is on the third floor of my house. My window overlooks the end of the street, and a field.  One day, while avoiding doing work and gazing out the window, I saw a herd of goats. I don’t know if goats run in “herds”, but I’m not sure what else to call it. They came from the field and into the back yard of the house across the street.

I did what anyone else would do.

I jumped up, grabbed my cell phone and took a picture. It was blurry, but I sent it to my friend, B, and told her that there were loose goats in my neighborhood. I mean, one time she saw a cougar in her neighborhood and she lives at the beach. Weird.

So I run downstairs and grab shoes. My husband is watching me curiously.

“There are loose goats across the street.” He continues watching me put my shoes on and grab a jacket.

“Okay…” he says. Just okay? Isn’t this a big deal? We don’t live on a farm and goats just don’t randomly enter our neighborhood.

“I’m going over there.”

“Oh, okay.” Men have so little reaction to things, it always baffles me.

“Um, yeah, so put your shoes on and c’mon. We have to get the goats. I might need help!”  Now I’m heading out the back door while my confused husband puts his shoes on. Poor guy is used to my antics.

Now, I really wasn’t thinking about how we would catch them. Or what we would do with them when we did. I just knew that I needed to go help the goats. It’s a dangerous world out there.

As we walk across the street, he can’t see the goats. I am thinking this is going to be exactly like the donkey incidents.

“I swear I saw goats!” I repeat over and over while frantically searching for signs of goats.

As we went into the backyard of the house across the way, we finally spot them.

Turns out, after all that, that my eyes might not be as good as they should be.

There was a fence separating the field, and the goats were perfectly contained.

I must say, first of all, there are a TON of goats over there. Second, it really, really, really looked like they were in the guy’s backyard, NOT on the other side of the fence. Oops.

My husband just shakes his head and turns back for the house.

Oh well.

I turn and follow him, thankful for the fact that this time, he at least saw the goats.

Car Thievery

I’m not 100% thievery is a word, or even if it is spelled correctly. Oh well.

Have you ever went inside somewhere and come outside to possibly find your car possibly in the process of being stolen? Probably not. Key words here are “possibly” and “in the process of”.

This reminds me. Once I went into a department store, and came back out unable to find my car. I was ‘this-close’ to reporting it stolen when I found it. Yes, I am sometimes that scatterbrained. But, alas, I am off topic. Again.

Funny story. This may, or may not have, really happened. And I won’t use any real names. Actually, I won’t use any names. This is all being done to the protect the innocent.

A colleague and I head out on sales calls one day. We head into a company (was a good sales call, by the way). We talk, we do our thing, and we head back out to the car. As we leave the building and approach the car, I notice her car door is open.

I stop dead in my tracks.

“Um, D, do you see that? The car door is open…” D stops.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” D says.

“Is someone trying to break in?”

“I don’t know.”

We stand there for a few seconds longer. It is clear now that it is up to me to take charge.

“Maybe we should go get the security guard.” (The company we were at happened to have one).

D does just that, I stay and watch over the car. I don’t see anyone, and we are several rows away from it. But sure enough, the door is open.

When D and the security guy arrive, we start to creep towards the car. Slowly. I remember thinking that it would be appropriate if there was some sort of theme song playing for us.  The only one that came to mind was the Pink Panther theme. So I started humming it. Until the guard “shushed” me that is.

We approach the car, and the guard raises his hand up. “I’ll take it from here.” We let him do just that. He sneaks around, looking in the car, around it, even under it.  D and I cower and shake and wait for a car thief to show himself. I tried to conjure up those karate moves I learned back in college…just in case.

After a minute, the security guard calls us over. “Everything looks fine. Check you car and make sure nothing is missing.” Since it was D’s car, I let her check. I peek in the passenger side. $40 sits on the console.

“D, they didn’t take your cash you left laying out…”

“Yeah, that’s weird.” She turns to the guard.

“I guess I just left me door open. I do that sometimes.” She shrugs and hops in the car, leaving me speechless. She leaves her car door open sometimes? The security guard raises his eyebrows at me, and I just smile back. As if he had anything better to do anyhow.

I actually have exciting moments like this regularly at work. Part of what makes me love my job.

Never a dull moment with my people.

Interestingly enough, when looking for a photo, I came across this gem- and if you read my BigFoot thoughts recently, you will understand why this pic was quite exciting for me.

 

 

 

 

 

The Lost Art of Renting a Video

One of my fondest memories as a child were those days we would head to the video store (there was one on every corner, after all) and rent a movie.

It was an exciting moment.

Parent: “Hey, do you kids want to go rent a movie tonight?”

Kids: “Yes!Yes!Yes!”

Off we would go, into the store, thousands of movies staring back at us as we entered; Characters beckoning to us from their plastic cases, “Pick me! Pick me!”

The big dilemma: where to go first? New releases? Horror? Comedy? Drama?

After our choices, we’d head home, movies in hand, anxiously anticipating the excitement the next few hours would hold.

Then, they started renting video games too! All the Super Mario Brothers one could handle.

Quickly, weekends became full of movies, video games, all-nighters and Doritos. Ahhh, those were the days.

Now, with Netflix, Satellite TV, Online streaming, Redbox, etc, there is really no longer a need for the traditional video store as I once knew it. The joy of “heading to the video store”  is lost.

I didn’t actually realize it until watching an old sitcom rerun from the 90′s. I mean, I knew the video store was a “blast from the past” thingy, but I just didn’t realize it….

Anyways, in the TV show, the characters do the whole “head to the video store” thing. A little boy and his father debating what they should rent, and suddenly it hits me! I had forgotten the excitement of that moment.  The little boy jumps up and down. A father grins. Out the door they go. An excitement that can no longer be.

I know that new little moments will replace the “exciting video store trips”, but for a split second, I was sad.

And, please don’t tell me that there are still video stores out there I can go to. It is just not the same.

The art of renting of video as we know it, ceases to exist. It is much easier to peruse Netflix or stop at a RedBox.

Space Invaders

Do y’all remember the video game Space Invaders? The little alien thingy’s that would get closer and closer and you’d have to shoot them or they would “get you”? See, we had violent games even before Grand Theft Auto and Modern Warfare.

Well, this post has nothing to do with those Space Invaders.

This is all about people (humans) who are ‘Space Invaders’.

We have all encountered them, haven’t we? I mean, usually they are men, but I’m just sayin’. I think us women know better.

The thing is, space invaders are so…invading. And when a space invader invades, what is one to do? After thinking about this, I have come up with a few possible actions one can take, and since I like to number things, I will.

1. Freeze. This is usually what I do. I am afraid to move, because I don’t want to offend the person who is invading. Awfully dumb, isn’t that? I don’t breathe, I don’t move forward, and I don’t move backwards. There is no way out. And the whole time the invader is invading, I don’t hear a word they are saying because I am plotting my escape. Which, ultimately doesn’t happen.

2. Drop something, bend to pick it up, slightly lose your balance, thus causing you to stumble and take a couple (one?) steps backwards.

3.  Find a friend across the room, and excuse yourself, apologizing and saying you have been needing to talk to <insert name here> for a while and you will be right back.

4. Counter-attack. Take a step inward towards the invader and see what happens. Okay, it was just a thought.

5. Have a spontaneous coughing fit and excuse yourself to get a drink a water, choking and hacking all the way. It is good to actually really force yourself to cough so that your face will turn red as well.

6. Tell the person to back up, they are invading your space. This is the last option because frankly, it is the least interesting.

For your reference:

Should you have better suggestions, I’m all ears, just please~ keep your distance.

Finding Bigfoot

This only happened because I was bored, it was 2:00am, and there was nothing else on TV. I swear.

I watched the show “Finding Bigfoot” for the first time.

And, because my mind works best in the middle of the night, I had lots of Bigfoot thoughts.

First, the man on the show happened to be in Akron, Ohio for this episode. This caught my attention. Apparently, the Akron area has a lot of Bigfoot. (Seriously, what is the plural for ‘Bigfoot’? Bigfoots? Bigfeet?) Who even knew the thriving metropolis of Akron, Ohio was a Bigfoot mecca?

This man, the Bigfoot hunter guy, announced he was a graduate of Akron Law School. I am all for following your dreams and doing what you love and all that…blah, blah, blah, but wow- from lawyer to Bigfoot hunter. Now that’s a career leap.

I’m curious now about the term ‘Bigfoot’ as I write it. Grammar is not my forte (obviously), but I’d love to know. Should I only capitalize Bigfoot if I am referencing a specific Bigfoot?  Like, I wouldn’t capitalize ‘Panther’ if  were writing about ‘Panther’s', right?  Somehow, I feel like Bigfoot should be capitalized. Since this is my blog, I get to make the rules.

Anyhow, back to what I was saying.

I hate to admit it, but I don’t believe in Bigfoot. With as populated as the world is, certainly we would have found a body by now. We’d have concrete proof. But, we don’t.

My mom told me someone she worked with said one time they almost ran over one while driving to work early one morning. So, how come in all these years, no one has actually ran over one? I’ll tell you why- there is no Bigfoot.

I would also like to admit, in all fairness, that if a friend approached me and said, “Hey, Jen, why don’t we take a few days and go search for Bigfoot?  I would be inclined to say, “Heck ya, let’s go.”

I am always up for an adventure.

I would pack a camera. I would find nightvision lenses. I would practice and master the “Bigfoot call”. We would have a fun time hunting Bigfoot. Finding tufts of fur that we were certain belonged to Bigfoot. We’d take pictures of Bigfoot droppings. Oh yeah, we’d have fun. And while it may sound like I am being sarcastic, I am not. I would totally love to go hunting for Bigfoot.

I wonder what we would do if we actually found one? Hmmmmm

I would hate to admit that I was wrong…

Shopping Carts~ Put ‘em back!

Today while shopping,  I was busted by a store employee. Not for shoplifting or anything truly illegal, mind you.

I left the shopping cart in the parking space next to me, too lazy to return it to the store, or walk one aisle over and several spaces back to the cart return.

The funny part is, I have a bit of a pet peeve with people who do just that. Actually, it’s not really a pet peeve so much as it is a fear. That’s right. I’m terrified of being “caught” or “seen” leaving the shopping cart in an area of the parking lot it shouldn’t be.

My usual way around this is to take the kids shopping with me. We unload the groceries into the back of the car, and then I just say “<insert child name here>, would you please take the cart to the cart return?” And, my kids, like the well-trained children that they are, obediently take the cart back. And they never complain. Gosh, I love them.

Or, if the kids are not with me, I look for a parking spot close to the cart return, so it is easy for me to return it. I always stress out if I have to take the cart far.

1. Do I lock up the car while I am walking the cart back? Will someone try to steal my groceries?

2. Do I take my purse with me? I don’t want to leave it in the car…

All of this also increases the risk of me locking my keys in the car…

Today, I was in a hurry. The disabled veterans stressed me out when I left Wal-Mart. They were asking for donations, so of course I had to find a couple bucks for them. I had to get home with the party goods for my daughter’s party. Too much stress. So, I unloaded the goods, did a quick, nonchalant glance around the parking lot for “workers” and ditched the cart in the parking space next to mine. Luckily, there was already a cart there, so I felt mildly justified. I abandoned the cart, and walked (briskly) back to the driver’s side door. Just as I fling open the door, I see an employee walking towards me. Ah, the familiar blue vest. I’m sure they hate people like me. Cart Abandoners.

“Thank you Ma’am,” He says, nodding his head.

I nod back. Was he being sarcastic?  What was he thanking me for? Seriously, the one time I ditch a cart, I get busted. And really, it’s not like it’s against the law or anything…

But what if the cart starts rolling?

And almost hits a moving vehicle coming down the aisle?

Then, the vehicle swerves to avoid hitting it, and hits an unexpecting patron?

They end up hospitalized. Lose their job. Lose their house. Family leaves them.

It could be devastating.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

So, anyone out there working in retail and on cart duties, I sincerely apologize.  I will not do it again.

I will always take at least one kid to the store with me on cart-load days. I promise.

 

 

 

Planes, trains and….Limousines?

Once upon a time, there was a weary traveler who almost always ran into complications when flying. Others had said she was ridiculous. She was pessimistic. It was all “in her head”.

However, those who have witnessed the issues of this traveler no longer say those things. Instead, they say things like,

“You just aren’t meant to fly,”

“Wow, you really do have bad luck,”

“Remind me never to fly with you!”

Reassuring comments, no?

By now you may have guessed that the specified “weary, bad-lucked traveler” is…me.

I won’t go into all the problems I have had flying over the years. This isn’t a book for goodness sake, it’s just a blog post. This post is specifically about my most recent travel conundrum. (Don’t you just love that word?)

I was taking a short weekend getaway  back to my home state. Specifically to see my family for a day, and my friends the next day. My friends and I used to have a regular yearly trip to the islands of Lake Erie, okay, really just Put-in-Bay, and for some reason we had missed the last year’s trip. Probably in part due to my move 5 states away, and my one friend who had just started a new job, and the third working on a long-distance relationship. Ah, the trials we have as we get older.

Anyway, back to the trip. I planned on a 5:30am flight out of the small regional airport closest to my  house. This would allow me a short layover in Charlotte (everything in the SE goes through Charlotte or Atlanta, I swear. Everything) and then put me arriving in Cleveland around 11:00am. My mom could pick me up (Thanks Mom!) and I would have pretty much the whole day. Saturday we would head to the islands, and return home on Sunday. I had an 8:00pm flight out of Cleveland on Sunday night. Sounds pretty good, right?

Yeah…

I woke up at 3:30 that morning. Left for the airport at 4:15, and arrived at said airport around 4:45. Boarding was to begin at 5.

Except the plane was delayed.

The first time it was delayed, everyone’s cell phone went off seconds apart from each other. We all answered, blissfully unaware of the oddity that EVERYONE’s cell phone should ring at the same time. Of course, it was US Air notifying us of a 30 minute delay.

Apparently, there were maintenance issues.

A half hour later~ delayed again. I overheard an employee tell someone they were waiting for a mechanic to show up.

Another 30-minutes later, another delay. It was pretty amusing as all our phones would go off at the same time, and groans would erupt from the small crowd. Apparently the mechanic was MIA.

Employees offered us some options at this point, since most of us had connecting flights in Charlotte that we had missed, or would miss.

1. Re-book another flight. The next flight flying out of Florence was 10 hours later.

2. Take the complimentary ground transportation to Charlotte. Complimentary? How nice of them…

Most of us ended up with option #2. I was in the last group to leave, since I had spent a short amount of time debating whether I should still go.

Finally, a limo pulls up. A cheesy, 1980′s, red velvet interior  limousine. The six remaining passengers all crawled in, and sat, shoulder to shoulder. We sat in a circle, in the 1980′s limo, and stared at each other. Complete strangers who were about to embark on a two-hour ride to Charlotte, North Carolina. A two-hour tour…

Any of my eighth grade friends reading this? Remember, “Can’t Touch This..” blasting out of our limo as we left Middle School for the last time?

In the limo, was the Nutty Professor, a young in-love looking couple, a college kid, an overly friendly businesswoman, and a man who was desperately (although we never got to learn why)trying to  make it to San Francisco.

During the ride, striking up a conversation with the Nutty Professor, I learn that he is returning to Ohio (we would be on same flight to Cleveland) for his (grad school) college’s homecoming. HIS College was in the next town over from where I was heading! I also learn that we went to the same college, (undergrad). Now, this nutty professor lives in the same South Carolina place that I do…Weird.

In any event, as we neared Charlotte, our driver tells us he has never been to Charlotte Airport and had no idea where it was. He pulls out his Iphone and starts to use the navigation, while driving, therefore not watching the road. We veer to the left, swerve to the right…

Nutty Professor decides to help him out. We finally make it there.

Nutty Professor and I head to the gate for Cleveland. At least I was upgraded to first class~ it’s the least they can do I suppose. Of course, since they had to book me on a different flight, I would arrive in Cleveland 3 hours past my original time. At this point, since my Mom had a doctor appointment in the afternoon, I’m not even sure if someone can pick me up at this new time…

I survived the weekend.

Flying home Sunday night, I found myself on the same plane (not jet) back to SC with a handful of the same people who made the journey North with me. Young, in-love couple and college kid specifically. We smile and nod to each other. Ah, friends.

I’m reminded of Mitch Albom’s, “The Five People You Meet in Heaven”.  Random acquaintances. No offense to my travel buddies, but I hope they’re not one of my five…I mean, if I only get five…

So now you are thinking, where do the trains come in? They don’t. It just made the title sound better.

And all this is the reason why I prefer to drive. At least I have control.

Can’t touch this…   Flashback:  https://jinxyjen.wordpress.com/tag/mc-hammer/