Lame-O, NaBloPoMo Post

I admit it: this post is being published only to fulfill the requirements of NaBloPoMo. Everyone likely has one post like that, right?

I’m home. Back in Raleigh. On terra firma and with my luggage, which earlier in the evening seemed unlikely (the luggage, not the terra firma part). Another series of very full flights and by the time I had raced through the Atlanta airport after my flight from Nashville landed (which looked like a lovely airport by the way), making it to my gate just in time to board, I was feeling a bit punchy and irritated at those passengers who tried to cram large carry-ons into the overhead compartments, holding up the line.

They had the last laugh because luggage shifted during the flight to Raleigh, causing the hatch door to be stuck. No one could get it open, which meant the rest of us poor suckers who had checked our luggage were left to cool our heels at baggage claim for an hour.  Eventually, Delta Baggage Services told us that the crew was going to have to remove seats in order to get to the luggage and our choices were to wait for who knew how long, come back later or have the luggage shipped. I chose to leave, thinking the only thing I really needed was contact lens solution, and I could buy that easily.

Just as the exit door opened, several passengers yelled for me to return, saying that the crew had gotten the door open and our luggage would be here soon.  Another 15 minutes passed before our precious bags emerged from the bowels of the baggage claim area. I claimed mine with a good deal of ferocity and stalked off. I knew it had been a long shot because of the time my plane had landed, but I had hoped to be able to make it home to kiss Daniel good night.  Instead, he’s snoozing well and we’re finishing up a few tasks that need to be done for tomorrow.

So to my fellow passengers with checked bags, I apologize for jinxing us.

It wasn’t completely awful. My seat mates were a father and his 4-year-old little girl on their way to visit grandparents.  The little girl kept us entertained in the baggage claim and hugged me several times.  She offered me one of her chocolate cookies, and when I told her thanks but no thanks because I don’t like chocolate, she looked at me curiously and asked, “why do you not like chocolate?”  It was just like how Daniel would have asked it.

Back to work tomorrow, but I am so looking forward to being the first face Daniel sees tomorrow and giving him a huge bear hug.

It’s good to be home.

Dispatches from the Road

I forgot that Nashville is on Central Time, so my old bones feel like it is two hours later than it is. Both flights were smooth but full, and there is nothing like flying to remind me how much I dislike flying. Airborne containers of misery and over-crowding. But the 6-inches of seat I was allotted was mitigated by the 10 tiny pretzels I received. They really should change the name of the class from “economy” to “miserly.”

My hotel is in the heart of downtown Nashville (I think). It is connected to the convention center where the conference is, and my room overlooks the Predators’ arena. My room is nice too: a king-sized bed all to myself and a huge bathroom. It’s a standard hotel room, but it seems a lot grander. Oh la la!

I had dinner by myself. When we travel for work, Jimmy and I have a rule that we eat well or at least eat what we want. This meal was pretty much all of my meals for the day, so that assuaged a little guilt about having an appetizer and entree!

The news from the home front is that everyone is behaving well and cooperating.

So ends Day 1 in Nashville. The conference kicks off at 8 AM tomorrow and country music’s best and brightest are pouring into the city for the CMA Awards. I hope Nashville’s ready for us.