Arizona, Part 1

So we just got home Sunday night from a "vacation". Hubby had to go to Arizona for work, so we decided to extend it out so we had two weekends to do some touristy things. Our first mistake was flying Allegiant Air. Ok, so it wasn't a total mistake, I mean, who can deny a $29-each-way-flight? Well, there were some catches, like $30 per checked bag, and also that you are obliged to pick your seats for $16 per seat, per way. But we still got a great deal. Which sort of soothed the 2 hour delays going and coming. Sort of.

While we were waiting to depart in the airport, Spazzy The Two Year Old caught an airport worker lady's attention. This lady was nice enough, first commenting on her terrible cough and making sure I gave her some meds for the flight. But then she started talking to Spazzy with the most annoying baby talk I think I've ever heard. I would be safe to say that it would be the kind of baby talk you would stop doing to a baby at, oh, 1 month old max. And she didn't get a clue that it was upsetting Spazzy (thus making life harder for me). And she didn't stop there. She said, "Mom and Dad, can I sing her a little song?" Being that I am usually only rude and confrontational with people in my head, with imaginary replies that I never act on, I nicely said yes to her request, though I was horrified that a stranger was going to sing in front of all these people waiting to get on the same plane as us. I sooooo hate having attention cast in our direction, I'm very self conscious and like to blend in, not stand out.

Well, Crazy Airport Lady's song started, and it was baaaaaad. The voice was bad. The song was nerdy and very newborn-babyish. And it required Spazzy to "wave bye byyyyye". But Spazzy hid under her Cookie Monster (her ugly blue blanket she calls Cookie Monster that is a permanent fixture around her body), and would have none of this interaction the lady so desperately wanted with her. She kept singing the last line over and over, for her to wave bye-byyyyyyye. Spazzy started screaming from under Cookie Monster. The lady still wouldn't get a clue. Finally, I said, "You know, she doesn't feel good, she's been sick and she's a very shy girl." The lady was perplexed that this song works with her grandchild, but not my child. Finally, she left....yes, singing. "Bye byyyyyyyyye". About 20 minutes later, I was strolling Spazzy through the airport for the 39th time that evening, and who should we run into but Crazy Airport Singer Lady! Spazzy screams at the sight of her and CASL starts singing again! I pushed the stroller faster trying to get out of there, this time not even acknowleging the CASL.

Finally, we were cleared to board the plane, after being in the airport for 4 hours. During the flight, Spazzy feel asleep (thankfully, because she thought it was fun to kick the seat in front of her), but "because Allegiant Air is a Vegas-based airline, we are going to do a raffle to win prizes!" screamed the over-zealous flight attendant on the blow-your-ears-out PA system. It was so loud, that I actually acted like a toddler myself and covered my ears and rolled my eyes and made gasping noises. After that was over, luckily Spazzy was still asleep, the toddler across the aisle from me started howling and pummeling his parents. They seemed to be clueless as to how to entertain him. Being more worried about my own discomfort if my toddler woke up, I started trying to entertain this child to get him to pipe down. It worked. But this wasn't me relaxing on the plane with a sleeping toddler. This was work. And I was doing his parents' work! Still, I was too terrified of Spazzy waking up to stop entertaining this boy.

Two hours later, we landed and made our way to the car rental line. It seems like we attract crazy people to talk to us. I don't know why. We don't stare, we don't call attention to ourselves, we don't even make eye contact. But somehow the only drunk woman in the tiny Mesa airport, who by the way dressed and looked like a man, complete with a Hooters baseball cap to to pull off the look, tried to befriend my husband in line. She was loud. She was opinionated. She dropped the F bomb in between each and every word. She had no sense of personal space. And did I mention she was sloshed? She was also named April. She really looked more like an Arnold to me.

We eventually got our rental car, left April/Arnold in the dust, and added another loud-mouthed, opinionated traveler to our group of five. Her name was Fergie. Fergie Garmin....give a give a give a give a Garrrrmin. I shouldn't harp on Fergie, she did get us to Panda Express in a jiffy, Starbucks when we needed it, and most importantly she found an In n Out Burger! But she did try to kill us once. Driving up to the steep road to the Prescott Resort, she commanded us to take a right....right off a cliff! And once she was very emphatic that we had arrived at our destination, when it was just a empty lot in the desert with a lone saguaro cactus and not the steakhouse we thought we were going to. She also woke Spazzy up with her commands, or forgot to command us at all. We think Fergie is the great-grandmother of the Garmins.

To be continued....

Fergie-licious

My Own Personal Seinfeld Moment

The other day, La Belette Rouge posted about the probability of her getting to fly Business Class on her flight to Paris in July. In tribute to her post, I would like to tell you my experience of a trans-Atlantic flight on Business Class.

The year was 2005, the plane was an Airbus long haul craft operated by Lufthansa, the destination was Rome. The origin was somewhere on the West Coast. We were a family of four, traveling with a so-called Friend. :)

We invited Friend to come with us on this trip, as she usually traveled with us, and she happily discovered that she had enough miles to fly Business Class.

When we got to the airport, she tried to convince the gal at the counter to upgrade our family, so we could be with her in luxury. The lady said sure. But it would cost us dearly. $850. Per person! Each way.

As we boarded the flight, said our goodbye's to Friend and parted ways, she assured us she would come back and check on us. Incidentally, we were in the 2nd row behind The Curtain, which separated the classy people from the sardines (us). That meant that we were literally just a few steps away from Friend, with The Curtain being a one-way prison door to be used only by Biz Class who wanted to come see how bad it was back here and laugh at Family of Four having a nightmare flight. (No, she did not laugh, really).

But I was impressed with Lufthansa. They were efficient, clean and the seats weren't as bad as the hellish flight to Paris on Air Canada a few years before. (LBR described our flight exactly in her post). Lufthansa fed us well, we had good movies, and it was so far the best long haul flight we'd had.

Six hours into the flight, Friend decided to get out of her cocoon and come check on us. She made the 9 steps trek down into the belly of the beast (Coach) and with a smile asked how our dinner was. I raved about the Greek Pasta for dinner, we said the seats were not bad, and "by the way, I thought you were coming to check on us like 5 hours ago?" She smiled and said she had been busy with dinner. "So what did you have for dinner?" I asked.

She hesitated. Then she said, "Well.....um....Snow crab." Snow crab?! I said, disgusted, because I love snow crab!

Then she said, "Well, that was the starter. Then I had...." and she proceeded to tell me all the courses presented, and "did I mention they dressed my table with linens and china?" Thank you, dear Friend, for mentioning that as well. I really hated my arm-rest tray that had a coffee ring from the previous flight still on it. I could have used that linen table cloth.

Then she said, "I have a present for you." And she handed me a pair of long, blue, thick Lufthansa socks. I asked where they came from and she said, "Oh, in my goody-bag I got when I boarded. I thought you might need them back here." Goody bag??? I snatched them from her and promptly stuck my lower class feet into them and decided that I was definitely made for Biz Class.
I needed to take some meds and could not get the flight attendant's attention to ask for some water, to Friend said she'd go get me some from her section. She popped back through The Curtain with a glass of water for me. A GLASS, a real glass. I began to laugh and said, "We're gonna get busted for being caught with this!"

After I gulped it down, she took it and said, "Ok, I'll go back to my seat now, but I'll make sure and send you back some of the warm, fresh baked cookies when they're ready."

Well, we never got them (I think she passed out in her cocoon seat) and when we landed in Frankfurt we made our way through customs and to our gate to wait the 2 hours until the connecting flight to Rome was ready for boarding. We sat down on uncomfortable (efficient)German airport chairs, feeling like death because of the flight and the fact that our bodies were screaming out "It's 2am!", when Friend announces with a look of guilt upon her face, "Um, could you watch my stuff, I'm gonna go into The Lounge." What is THE LOUNGE? I knew nothing of a so-called Lounge, other than where we were supposed to lounge, and we were already there.

"Well, they have a Business Class lounge for those flying in Biz Class. Do you want me to get you some coffee in there?"

I think that at that point, I decided that we never should have invited Friend on the trip at all, and how could she ditch us for The Lounge, after just having 12 hours of pure luxury?!
She came back about an hour later bearing gifts for the kids. She brought gummy bears and cookies. Then she handed me her boarding pass and said, "They didn't check my ID at all. Take this and go inside! I left early so you could go!" She was so excited for me to go in, but I was terrified. What if they caught me? Would I get arrested by the Airport Police and be deported without my family?
I walked to the inconspicuous door that led to The Lounge. When I opened the door, there was a marble floor and seated at the desk was a lady with perfect makeup and a French Twist. I showed her the pass and she smiled and pointed the way. I opened the huge double doors and as I entered The Lounge, I swear I heard a choir singing "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" It was fabulous! It was all leather! There was a cookie buffet and espresso machines and a bar! There was a sign pointing the way to the showers! Whaaaa?!

I got a cappuccino, and sat down in one of the leather chairs that instantly began to massage my poor, sore, Coach Class bum.

But I could not fully relax. I felt out of place. I was ragged from 12 hours of coach, and I couldn't help feeling completely guilty sitting in luxury while Hubby and kids were out in the torture chamber, heads bobbing violently because the body was on Pacific Standard Time.

I think I lasted all of 8 minutes. I walked out, cursing rich people and diligent Mileage Plus hoarders who didn't make the mistake of prematurely cashing in their miles for a coach class ticket to Cabo.
I got a taste of Business Class. It's something I can't forget now. It's something that I will dwell on the entire flight this coming spring, when we are squished in like sardines, with no warm cookies to console us and no eye-masks so we can at least try to go to a Happy Place in our minds and shut out the annoying seat-neighbors.

I will, however, accrue miles on this flight and then have enough to go to Hawaii. Coach Class.