Now, where did I leave off? Oh, the shuttle to the airport. Fortunately my small checked bag made the trip to Milwaukee and I was able to change into some warm clothes. I never appreciated a pair of jeans so much in my life: 14-degree weather and snow. WTFlurries!
So, there I was in the lobby of the Sleep In at the crack of dawn for the 5:30 shuttle, actually I think it was a 5:15 shuttle, but why sweat the small details? The driver loaded my bags and the bags of a family of four. We climbed into the van and the wait began. Mr. Tall Pilot, you know, the “get me to the airport on time guy”, was nowhere to be found. Really? All the pissing and moaning the night before and he was tardy. I looked at the driver and told him I would miss my flight if we didn’t go right then. I loved the driver, he put the van in gear and started to pull away and as if by magic, there was the pilot running to grab us.
Ha…I loved seeing that! He hopped in, looked at me, looked at his watch, and blushed a very crimson red. Sure dude, who is the actual tardy to the party shuttle rider?
So, there I was in a blustery snowy morning headed to the airport to see what fate awaited me. I arrived at the Frontier Airline counter and was pleased to see the flight would be on time. I wasn’t overly concerned because I had a decent amount of time between flights in Kansas City. Yes, headed to Kansas City to grab an American Flight to Dallas. Still mad that I’d not grabbed the American Airline flight out of Reagan. Oh well: lesson learned!
I asked the counter agent if my luggage would be transferred to the American Flight once we got to Kansas City. In the most pleasant Frontier Airline Customer Service voice she could muster, she informed me that I would have to retrieve my bag and get it checked to American and further told me that by booking trips “like that,” meaning jumping between airlines I would always have to retrieve my bag. Well, thanks for that effen news flash…again another bitchy gate agent.
So I took the high road (though I wanted to snap her head off because I’d had no coffee) and explained that Frontier Airlines had made the flight adjustments to accommodate my botched flight from the night before. WOW…what a change of attitude. Suddenly, she told me the bag would be transferred, first lie, and would be with me in Dallas when I landed on American; second lie.
I suppose she thought I was some casual flyer and that I’d believe her line of customer service crap. I knew I’d get to Dallas and I’d have to go to the luggage office at American Airlines to put in a lost bag claim. That is the reason the running gear stays with me! And then the announcement came across the speaker that our flight was minimally delayed. My blood pressure didn’t change. I went and got a Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte from Starbucks and called my friends in Dallas. Fortunately, the delay really was minimal, 30 minutes at the most. We boarded and sat while snow accumulated on the wings, and for what seemed an eternity we waited to de-ice. Finally! At last we were de-iced and cleared for takeoff. I might just get to Dallas on time after all.
When I’d called my friend Ken to let him know I’d be about an hour late he was not overly concerned as he was bringing his son to DFW for a flight to North Carolina. My arrival and Jonathan’s departure were within minutes of each other. I did remind Ken that I’d have to put a lost bag check in, but still, it was no big deal. I put my head back and napped for the short flight. The layover time I had in KC was minimized because of my delay from Milwaukee. Fortunately, the American Terminal was a few gates away, and I easily got where I needed to go.
Then I met the most helpful TSA Agent. She kept looking at my boarding pass as though I might have counterfeited it. She was talking out loud to herself in that sort of rhetorical voice, but making sure I understood that she was questioning the validity of the boarding pass. She went so far as to call in a gent for a second opinion. Trust me, I bit my tongue and put on the most soothing voice I could muster. When she started to bitch about the ticket and look over her glasses at me, I politely pointed out that the ticket had been issued by Frontier Airlines (which it clearly stated) to accommodate my debacle the prior evening. She looked, sighed, looked, sighed, showed it to TSA man, looked, sighed and kept doing that because I believe she wanted to see what I’d do. I just stood there smiling and nodding, all the while wanting to grab her head and shove it up her ass. Finally, she had no choice but to usher me through. I took my ticket and moved on. I didn’t give her a thank you, a middle finger, or a business card.
Finally, I was settled in for the final leg of my flight. Praise the Lord. I’d get to Dallas and be able to run my race. Needless to say, I was not surprised when I got to DFW and my bag didn’t. The American “Lost Bag” guy was wonderful. I knew my bag never got transferred from Frontier. I knew it would at some point make a flight on American to Dallas to me.
Ken was facing his own dilemma. He though his son was flying out of DFW when he was in fact headed out of Love Field. I sat on a bench to relax and enjoy the sun while awaiting my ride. Ken finally got me and we headed out for lunch on the way to the Expo. We stopped at Sonny Bryans Smokehouse for Barbeque: yummy and delicious. I ate like it was my last meal. I was starved! There is something cool about a place that posts hours of operation with a caveat “or until the food runs out.”
From there it was off to the Expo for a few hours of fun wandering through the booths and bumping into folks I’ve met on previous runs, or meeting new folks and making friends with them. Then it was off to Ken’s and over to meet his girlfriend Helen. We took their dogs for a walk and I had a nice two-mile run just to work out the travel kinks. We had dinner with several of Ken’s friends and I was dropped off to snuggle in before my run the next day. All too soon, the alarm rang and I was up. 4:30 am and I was again asking myself why I do this. I got ready and headed downstairs and Ken was already up and ready to drop me at the race. I was thrilled that it was cool and the predicted rain had held off. Thank you running Gods!
It was a cold windy morning and I was glad to have the cold weather over a hot day. I was huddled around a generator with some other runners and enjoyed the banter of races run, races to come, and just the general runner chatter. Finally, it was time to head to the corrals. As with all races, friends are made in the fifteen minutes spent milling about in the corrals and then suddenly we are trotting to the start line. I was jazzed. A cold day, another race in my quest for the Rock Legend, and another 13.1 miles to solve the problems of the Widow, even if only in my mind.
I do some serious soul searching when I run. I chew on troubles that have been annoying me and I find that I can remedy those troubles and rid myself as if going trough a body cleanse. I suppose what started as a weight maintenance hobby has now become more of a mini personal counseling session. Try it sometime; once you get beyond the wondering why you are running 13.1 miles, you actually get a good clear head.
This race had all the elements of a good race. We ran past the Grassy Knoll and my thoughts resonated with the question, “Where were you when you heard JFK was shot?” I chewed on that a bit and then the scenery began to change. I ran past Dick’s Last Call and thought it might be the spot Mike Hunt goes for a drink or two. We ran our way through beautiful Highland Park, which was filled with multi-gazillion dollar homes. I found a beautiful American Flag and had a photo snapped and then I came across a critter. I pose with all critters!
I knew if Jackie were following Face Book she would see a photo or two and know I was fine! And then I saw the political sign for Mike Hunt’s cousin Angela. I had to snap that too. As I was closing in on the finish, it started to sprinkle. I had about two miles to go and I was picking up my pace to get out of the rain. Finally I heard the finish line noise and I could see the Ferris wheel at Fair Park where the finish line was. Hallelujah, I’d survived another race.
My emotions again welled up, I began to cry and scream my way across the finish. I was done, I was wet, I was starved, I was cold, and I wasn’t able to find Ken. Praise God, he found me. He’d also grabbed my dry jacket from his vehicle. I would have hugged him, but I was wet and stinky. I didn’t hang around; I wanted a shower so we headed back to his place with a stop at Starbucks.
A shower and a cold beer perked me right up and so we grabbed Helen and headed to the movies. We went to an uber cool theater. Truly. We went to Cinemark http://cinemark.com/home.aspx I loved that place. There were big comfy chairs at tables with waiters bringing food and drinks. Yup. It was spectacular. I had a Caesar salad pizza and Bloody Mary’s. From there it was home to more movies and some more vodka. Truly, I drink for medicinal purposes after my runs. Fer Real! It is like a liquid analgesic, all my pains disappear.
I finally trudged to bed so I could head home the next day. I had a mid-morning flight home on Frontier Air retracing my steps through Milwaukee to home. I compacted my clothes and managed to push everything into two bags. I was not about to pack a bag and fight lost luggage again. I had a very long layover in Milwaukee, and my flight left Dallas on time so I was more than happy to order a braut and a beer celebrating all things Milwaukee! I got to Reagan without a hitch, cabbed to my car, and got home in time to find EW pulling up to my house. Now, having EW at the house when I got home was truly the highlight of the day…..but….
I grabbed my mail and in there was my “Double Encore” medallion from the Competitor Group and a bead commemorating my trifecta in Tampa. Wow, three new blingity blings for my bling tree, and an evening with EW. I must live right!
I’m headed to Nashville for the fourth race in my quest for the Rock Legend. I expect to have quite a tale to tell because I’ll again be rooming with Bruce Smith. While there, we will celebrate his mother’s birthday with the family. I plan to hold tightly to my driver’s license…one Drag Queen trotting around with my ID is enough!
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