I have so many stories to share from the weekend that it’ll probably take multiple postings to cover everything. Suffice to say that the GF and I had a fabulous time in the northland. We didn’t see everything that we could have, but we enjoyed the (mostly) lovely weather and did see more than enough things to fill at least this week’s worth of posts. Sorry to those of you hoping to get all your MN news in one fell swoop – you’ll just have to be patient.
We left on Thursday, right after work. I arrived at the airport about an hour and a half before the plane was to depart, but the GF (having to take the el out to O’Hare) arrived about a half-hour later. This left us with just a half-hour before the plane started boarding. Thus, was the GF introduced to “grrrbear the airport nazi”. You see, since most of you have never flown with me, you don’t know that I am hugely paranoid about getting caught up in delays at the airport (whether it’s traffic on the way there, lines at check-in, or backlogs at security checkpoints). So typically I arrive at the airport 2-3 hours ahead of my departure time, leaving more than enough time for all the possible delays as well as some reading at the gate. Once I hit the 2 hour mark, I get edgy. At an hour and a half, I become a little terse. Anything less than an hour, and I start to transform into the airport nazi. Symptoms of airport naziness include fast-walking, long periods of no talking, and a general proclivity for rapid-head turning as I evaluate the best way to navigate the vast herds of slow people (none of whom have ever been in an airport before, but all of whom decided to take their first flights on the day I am running behind schedule). In moments like these I am – in a word – unbearable.
To her credit the GF held up well under these circumstances. She even forgave me for abandoning her at the gate on our return flight so I could run down the jetway and claim all available overhead bins for us and our two carry-on bags. My other flight-related “quirk” is that I am constantly afraid of not having overhead space available near my seat. So I always run ahead to get in line immediately when my seating area is called, so that I can have my pick of overhead bin space. The GF (being a mature adult and knowing by this point that I’m a complete freak once I step onto airport property - so there’s nothing she could do to keep me from charging down the gangway like a maddened bull elephant anyway) ambled along at a much more reasonable pace, and arrived in her seat next to me a few minutes later. By then, there was still plenty of bin space available. But I was flush with the thrill of victory, having stowed our carry-on bags in the bin directly above our seats. Anyone who says it’s not a race doesn’t carry baggage that won’t fit under the seat in front of them.
We left on Thursday, right after work. I arrived at the airport about an hour and a half before the plane was to depart, but the GF (having to take the el out to O’Hare) arrived about a half-hour later. This left us with just a half-hour before the plane started boarding. Thus, was the GF introduced to “grrrbear the airport nazi”. You see, since most of you have never flown with me, you don’t know that I am hugely paranoid about getting caught up in delays at the airport (whether it’s traffic on the way there, lines at check-in, or backlogs at security checkpoints). So typically I arrive at the airport 2-3 hours ahead of my departure time, leaving more than enough time for all the possible delays as well as some reading at the gate. Once I hit the 2 hour mark, I get edgy. At an hour and a half, I become a little terse. Anything less than an hour, and I start to transform into the airport nazi. Symptoms of airport naziness include fast-walking, long periods of no talking, and a general proclivity for rapid-head turning as I evaluate the best way to navigate the vast herds of slow people (none of whom have ever been in an airport before, but all of whom decided to take their first flights on the day I am running behind schedule). In moments like these I am – in a word – unbearable.
To her credit the GF held up well under these circumstances. She even forgave me for abandoning her at the gate on our return flight so I could run down the jetway and claim all available overhead bins for us and our two carry-on bags. My other flight-related “quirk” is that I am constantly afraid of not having overhead space available near my seat. So I always run ahead to get in line immediately when my seating area is called, so that I can have my pick of overhead bin space. The GF (being a mature adult and knowing by this point that I’m a complete freak once I step onto airport property - so there’s nothing she could do to keep me from charging down the gangway like a maddened bull elephant anyway) ambled along at a much more reasonable pace, and arrived in her seat next to me a few minutes later. By then, there was still plenty of bin space available. But I was flush with the thrill of victory, having stowed our carry-on bags in the bin directly above our seats. Anyone who says it’s not a race doesn’t carry baggage that won’t fit under the seat in front of them.
Comments
Glad to hear the trip went well! I haven't been to MN since May and probably won't be there until Thanksgiving. Sigh.