California Trip Day 1: Misadventures
Christi Eubanks and I have been best friends ever since I can remember. Since getting married several years ago, I haven't seen her much. While I've made a life in Alabama with my husband J.T., Christi and her husband Chris have made several lives in New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and now, in California. Once I discovered that the school with whom I am employed gave students and faculty and week off for Mardi Gras festivities, I was determined to plan a trip to Cali to visit Christi.
What follows here are several journal-like entries that chronicle my Day 1 experience:
DAY 1: February 18, 2012
Mobile, AL.
For those of you who know me, my actions on the morning of my departure for California will come as no surprise...
On the night before my departure, J.T. (my husband) says to me, "Whitney, I think you should start packing now." To which I internally responded, "Heck no; there's no way I'm packing now that he told me to." To which I externally responded with a noncommittal, "OK." Being the contrary person that I am, I loathe doing what I'm told (I get it from my momma). This particular attitude has been known to land me in quite a few pickles.
Case in point: I needed to leave Mobile, AL. around 7:30 a.m. to arrive at the Louis Armstrong International Airport outside of New Orleans, LA. to be on time for my 12:10 flight to the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). It's around a 2 1/2 hour drive; plus I had a bag to check. (Please note that checking a bag is total buffoonery to my husband, but I was traveling without him and opted for traveling in utter rebellion.) That being said, I woke up at 6:30 a.m. and panicked, knowing that it would take me well over an hour to get "fixed up" because I'm a dawdler (a.k.a. slow as molasses). Not only did I have to get ready, but I also had to do laundry and pack. This mistake - a combination of oversleeping, being defiant, and poor planning - cost me in more ways than one.
I hoisted the world's heaviest and largest piece of luggage into the back of my SUV and started on down the road. All of a sudden, the "low fuel" notification in my car started going off. I pulled into a gas station, fueled up, and called J.T. He advised me to drive safe because of the bad weather. And while I thought, "Fat chance of that happening; I'm driving to New Orleans faster than a bat out of Hades;" I said to J.T., "OK, I will." After all, I didn't want him to worry.
New Orleans, LA. (Louis Armstrong International Airport)
Once I arrived at the airport, I called J.T. while I was whirling around in the Short Term Parking garage (Long Term was full...naturally) searching for an over-priced parking spot. The first thing he did was comment on how quickly I got there (Whoops!). I then make my way to the Southwest Airlines terminal in order to check my bag. Before my very eyes was a line nearly 200 yards long. Irritation began to set in (not at myself but at the stupid people checking bags thereby increasing the length of the line), but my personal folly had not yet dawned on me.
Finally, I make it to the kiosk and see a look of concern pass over the Southwest employee's face as she glances down at my bag. They are out of luggage tags at this kiosk, so I have to wait for what seems like a millennia while more are being procured. Then comes the moment where my bag is weighed. "Will it be 50 pounds or less (and thus fly free of charge)?" I asked myself. The shaking of her head from left to right told me, "No." She then asks me, "Ma'am, do you have another smaller bag inside of this one? If so, you can take some items out and check two bags? You know you can check two bags for free here at Southwest." "No, I do not," I replied. "It's all the toiletries, hair products, straighteners, and curling irons making it so heavy," I explained. She cared not for my explanation. "In that case," she said, "That will be $50." "Really?" I asked. "Really," she said. That's when the realization of my own folly kicked in - It was beyond stupid to hurriedly pack the day of departure and end up packing my entire closet (no exaggeration). This realization is what kept my head from spinning on its axis, flames flowing out of my ears, and ugly words from coming out of my mouth. "It's my own fault," I said as I handed that sweet lady her $50.
LAX - Ventura, CA.
Once on the plane, my travels for the rest of the day were pleasant and uneventful. I arrived in LAX, hopped a shuttle to Ventura, and disembarked at the home of Chris Patterson and Christi Eubanks (The Patterbanks). They had the most wonderful dinner waiting for me: bison short ribs, roasted potatoes, and spaghetti squash. It was so great to be dining with and laughing among friends. Moments like that help to erase the chaos of the hours before.
- W
What follows here are several journal-like entries that chronicle my Day 1 experience:
DAY 1: February 18, 2012
Mobile, AL.
For those of you who know me, my actions on the morning of my departure for California will come as no surprise...
On the night before my departure, J.T. (my husband) says to me, "Whitney, I think you should start packing now." To which I internally responded, "Heck no; there's no way I'm packing now that he told me to." To which I externally responded with a noncommittal, "OK." Being the contrary person that I am, I loathe doing what I'm told (I get it from my momma). This particular attitude has been known to land me in quite a few pickles.
Case in point: I needed to leave Mobile, AL. around 7:30 a.m. to arrive at the Louis Armstrong International Airport outside of New Orleans, LA. to be on time for my 12:10 flight to the Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). It's around a 2 1/2 hour drive; plus I had a bag to check. (Please note that checking a bag is total buffoonery to my husband, but I was traveling without him and opted for traveling in utter rebellion.) That being said, I woke up at 6:30 a.m. and panicked, knowing that it would take me well over an hour to get "fixed up" because I'm a dawdler (a.k.a. slow as molasses). Not only did I have to get ready, but I also had to do laundry and pack. This mistake - a combination of oversleeping, being defiant, and poor planning - cost me in more ways than one.
I hoisted the world's heaviest and largest piece of luggage into the back of my SUV and started on down the road. All of a sudden, the "low fuel" notification in my car started going off. I pulled into a gas station, fueled up, and called J.T. He advised me to drive safe because of the bad weather. And while I thought, "Fat chance of that happening; I'm driving to New Orleans faster than a bat out of Hades;" I said to J.T., "OK, I will." After all, I didn't want him to worry.
New Orleans, LA. (Louis Armstrong International Airport)
Once I arrived at the airport, I called J.T. while I was whirling around in the Short Term Parking garage (Long Term was full...naturally) searching for an over-priced parking spot. The first thing he did was comment on how quickly I got there (Whoops!). I then make my way to the Southwest Airlines terminal in order to check my bag. Before my very eyes was a line nearly 200 yards long. Irritation began to set in (not at myself but at the stupid people checking bags thereby increasing the length of the line), but my personal folly had not yet dawned on me.
Finally, I make it to the kiosk and see a look of concern pass over the Southwest employee's face as she glances down at my bag. They are out of luggage tags at this kiosk, so I have to wait for what seems like a millennia while more are being procured. Then comes the moment where my bag is weighed. "Will it be 50 pounds or less (and thus fly free of charge)?" I asked myself. The shaking of her head from left to right told me, "No." She then asks me, "Ma'am, do you have another smaller bag inside of this one? If so, you can take some items out and check two bags? You know you can check two bags for free here at Southwest." "No, I do not," I replied. "It's all the toiletries, hair products, straighteners, and curling irons making it so heavy," I explained. She cared not for my explanation. "In that case," she said, "That will be $50." "Really?" I asked. "Really," she said. That's when the realization of my own folly kicked in - It was beyond stupid to hurriedly pack the day of departure and end up packing my entire closet (no exaggeration). This realization is what kept my head from spinning on its axis, flames flowing out of my ears, and ugly words from coming out of my mouth. "It's my own fault," I said as I handed that sweet lady her $50.
 |
| The top of a mission - Ventura, CA. |
LAX - Ventura, CA.
Once on the plane, my travels for the rest of the day were pleasant and uneventful. I arrived in LAX, hopped a shuttle to Ventura, and disembarked at the home of Chris Patterson and Christi Eubanks (The Patterbanks). They had the most wonderful dinner waiting for me: bison short ribs, roasted potatoes, and spaghetti squash. It was so great to be dining with and laughing among friends. Moments like that help to erase the chaos of the hours before.
 |
| The Patterbanks at Venice Beach |
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