Finished my week in NYC for work, then dashed back to MA and had a flying lesson, and then spent the weekend in Connecticut at a wedding. Ugh. I am of an age and more importantly a situation where the very fact of being at a wedding is like having rusty fishhooks dragged up my inner arm. It's actually worse when it's somebody I care about, because then on top of that feeling is the guilt overload at being the bitter jerk at their Happy Occasion.
Went back to MA Sunday (capping nine hours of driving that weekend - this wedding was not near public transit or anything else for that matter and I had agreed to chauffeur some friends and their kids to and from the train/hotel/wedding/etc) and then Monday got up and drove two hours into Boston so I could get on a two-legged flight to Houston via JFK.
So here I am in Houston again for the week, returning Friday, when after six hours of air travel I will arrive at Logan around 10pm and then have to drive two hours back to Northampton. Bitch bitch bitch.
Just for maximum humor, JetBlue finally found a way to screw me after many flights of sterling service. I shelled out the extra $ for what they call an 'extra legroom' seat - basically, a seat where my kneecaps don't press against the seat in front of me, which also comes with a priority queue through security and boarding first. As the flight finished boarding, it was nearly full, but because JetBlue customers don't for some reason really consider knee room a priority, the middle seats throughout the 'extra legroom' section were pretty much empty. All of us were doing the oh please litany in our heads, waiting for them to close the door, which would mean we lucked out and got 2 people/3 seat row winnage.
Not this time. This time, the gate agent marched onto the plane with a young couple and their two children, and pointed at the middle seats in my row and the seat ahead of me. The mother and infant ended up next to me - and before I could do anything, the gent on the window (smarter and faster on the uptake) offered to trade with the father and clinched it. He gave up window in a 2-person row for middle in a 3 - and I ended up with two parents and two children in the two seats next to me. Two parents who weren't, in my opinion, very good parents, and who shouted at the kids when they misbehaved, fought with each other, took up half my seat, and whose kids threw food everywhere.
Even then, I would have probably just bore it if the cabin crew had asked if there was anything they could do to help- I probably would have said 'no, thanks' but the gesture would have meant something. But no. They all refused to meet my eyes for the entire flight, I'm guessing because they all understood quite well how they'd shafted me (this, of course, was for the 3.5 hour leg, not the 45 minute leg).
I checked with the FAA - my last doctor had claimed they'd faxed in everything, but of course they hadn't. The office staff hadn't bothered to read the actual letter from the FAA they'd scanned into my file, so instead of sending the three items that were requested, they just sent the most recent one to be completed. Called and yelled; they promised to fax everything today. If they did, then I have no idea how long it will take the FAA to make a decision on my Special Issuance waiver for my medical certificate, but at least it will be in progress and out of my hands.
So I'm back in Houston for work, and my favorite hotel (the only reason I agree to come down here, honestly) is undergoing renovation. So the lobby bar which a couple colleagues and I rely on to keep our sanity - is gone behind plywood for the time. There's no breakfast service - the other thing that keeps us sane, the restaurant had good breakfast. Firstworldproblems.
And I haven't managed to go shooting in weeks.