Well! That was an adventure.*

You know how they say to be at the airport 2 hours before your flight's scheduled departure? Well, when flying out of a DC airport, that's usually good advice, so yesterday I toddled off to the airport so I could be there by 3 for my 5 pm flight. Ended up being unnecessary. Dulles seems to have gotten their security lines much more streamlined than the last time I flew out of there and it didn't seem like there was anyone actually going anywhere yesterday either, so I breezed through that and was at my gate at about 2:45. Joy.

But, I had my happy little Scottoline book with me and settled in for some reading before our projected 4:15 boarding. I read and read and had half an ear poised for boarding announcements. The plane that was using our gate before us departed, so I scooted over into the gate area proper and realized two things:
1) It was 4:45
2) Our departure had been rescheduled to 5:30

So I settled in to continue reading for a bit longer, thinking we'd board any second...only gradually realizing that there was nothing there for us to board.

At 5:45 they made an announcement that the plane we would be using was scheduled to land in a half hour. I also finished my book. So I spent some time trying to surreptitiously people watch (you know, without being a weird freak who stares at people) and found great enjoyment from the two 20-somethings next to me who were on their way to Miami beach for a week partying with friends. As I listened to them discuss their plans for drink binging, backup plans for getting home after hookups, and the various outfits they brought with them, all I could think to myself was, "Thank you, God, that I never was like that nor wanted to be like that, nor thought that that was a normal, natural part of life." It just has no appeal to me whatsoever.

This took us to 6:30, when they announced that they were cleaning the plane and we could board shortly. This we accomplished by 7 and rolled out onto the runway, taking our spot in line.

Then the lightning started.

Needless to say, we were not taking off in a lightning storm - though a few planes did (the storm was over certain routes and not others), the majority were, like us, just sitting there. Waiting. And waiting. And still waiting. Every 15 minutes or so the captain would get on the PA and tell us that he had no news but that he'd be sure to give us a 5 minute warning before we were finally cleared to take off.

During this time I was grateful that JetBlue has DirecTV. (Since I'd finished my book and I couldn't get at my homework.) I was slightly bummed that my freebee headphones only had one working ear - so I guess I should call them headphone. About every 20 minutes I'd flip them around to give the one ear a break and let the other ear hear things. Very exciting. At about 8, I caught a flight attendant and asked for another pair. Turns out, it was the headphone jack that had issues.

I also spent some time listening to the boys in the row behind me, who were also off for drink binging and hookups make their plans and whine about being stuck on the ground. While I can't say I didn't whine at all, I only whined for a few minutes on the phone to my parents. Then I got over it. Well, mostly. At least I was quiet.

Finally, at 8:30, we were cleared for takeoff and, while we were supposed to have landed in Fort Lauderdale 45 minutes ago, it was good to finally be getting in the air.

Totally exhausted, we landed at 11:20 and I wound my way through the airport to the rental car counter. The rental car counter where I had a reservation. For an economy car. You know, a small, maneuverable, cozy little car that I would have no trouble driving. They were out of economies.

In fact, all they had were mini-vans.

So, I got a mini-van at the economy rate of $15/day. Now sure, that's great, but seriously - I despise driving mini-vans. At least it's a Dodge, which I have experience driving as my mom and sister both have one. But it's still a mini-van.

Me, my single suitcase, and my laptop bag piled into the mini-van and were off to the hotel. I got there without too much incident (one wrong turn, easily overcome) and dragged myself into the reception. The nice guy at the desk hemmed and hawed a little when he was looking up my reservation and my heart just sunk. But it turned out they just didn't have any King rooms left, would I be ok with 2 Queens. I told him I'd be happy with a cot in the janitor closet at this point. He laughed, I did my best to smile, got my key made it to my room and essentially crashed. But not without first noticing that this hotel is so many levels above the Skanky-Inn where I was last time that you really just can't make comparisons unless you consider primitive huts of the Majawabami people** to Donald Trump's penthouse in NY.

Not feeling the urge to move furniture in front of the door was a definite bonus. And now that I know the secrets of the fire swamp, I can live there happily for as long as I need. Not that I want to build a summer house there or anything.

*Come on, name the movie.
**I don't know if this is an actual, honest to goodness tribe anywhere in the world. If they exist and I have done them a disservice, I apologize most heartily and plead literary license.