So, as I check in at Rochester airport, I get a hand-written bag claim check (pay attention, this will be important later). I had to sit with the checked baggage because the sniffing machines were not powered up. The line to the metal detectors was huge, and my flight was departing in 45 minutes. The front gate people couldn't print me a boarding pass, either.
The power came back, I rushed to get a boarding pass, and sent my checked bags through. The huge checkpoint line evaporated, and I got on my plane on time. The flight departed slightly behind schedule and arrived slightly ahead of schedule.
My connection to LGA was supposed to depart from Washington at 9:30. It got canceled at 9:10. So I get my way to the front of the line, and demand a re-reservation. After about 40 minutes of standing around while the person helping me ran hither and thither, doing whatever netted me a promise that I had a reservation on a Continental flight to LGA at 9am the next morning (I was on United originally). Seeing as how they were not handing out accommodations, I decided to spend the night at the airport. In order to keep my luggage, I had to request it be handed back to me at the other gate.
Remember that bit about the hand-written luggage tag? Yeah, they couldn't find my luggage. Whatever, I tell myself, the bags have my name on it, it'll get to me. Turns out the numbers that are used for bags are recycled every three days. Not only that, but my bag's numbers went through Washingon not only that day but the day before. Each # belonged to a different person, and they had different destinations.
So I stayed up all night. The main terminal was pleasantly dark, but I made the decision not to sleep. I watched the Animatrix (friendly travel note, be sure to bring more than one movie on your laptop, just in case), and read Acts of the Apostles, some book by one of the /. editors.
At 4:30 (or was it 5:30?), the Continental counter opened. I went up to the lady, and handed her my receipt. She popped it into the computer and told me that they had no record of it. None. She told me to go to the United desk and make them fix it.
At the United desk, the guy was more than willing to help me. He knew of a flight from London to JFK that was diverted to Washington Thursday night. So he booked me, after the fact, on that flight from London. We faked my (non-existent) passport info, thusly getting me onto the flight to JFK that it had become. (On another note, they had a record of my ticket transfer.)
I went through the security check point (and nearly all the way to the wrong gate), and found that the plane was supposed to leave at 8am. "Running delays" delayed us out to 9:30 and arriving at Newark.
Of course my bags weren't at Newark, so I filed a report and went out with the Dad to the home. Patched the MSBlaster hole (as well as a few others), and called the lost luggage hotline. The bags were found and were at EWR. My dad offered to take me to pick them up that day (Friday) because TKD in the mountains was supposed to start today (Saturday) [obviously that didn't happen, but that's a story coming up] rather than let them deliver the stuff to the house.
At Newark, it seemed that every ramp to the Terminal I needed got closed by the cops just as we arrived. Eventually I made it in, got my bags, and got back into my dad's car.
The next morning, we were hoping to get to TKD in the mountains, but we ended up learning that Howard couldn't get a van due to complications from the blackout.
We will depart tomorrow (today?) at 9am for the mountains in Howard's new rental van.
And I'm hot, sweaty and headachy. But I can't wait until the mountains trip.
Talk to y'all after I return on Sunday.
[regarding the mood: temperature will be the only circumstance under which I use this mood]