Oh, how I love domestic airlines.  (Please read that with a sarcasm-laden inner voice.)

Just about a month ago, as we celebrated Flag Day and our upcoming departure for Chengdu, China, Thad and I decided that since we would be around until April that I may as well go home for a couple of weeks this summer to visit family.  Since most of the family works as teachers, summer is an ideal time, as many of them have a bit of free time.  I could have waited until later in the fall, but I foresaw the possibility of way too much classroom work headed my way, so I opted for our mutual vacation time!

Thad is delving into his Chinese studies, which consist of about five hours of language classes at FSI each day and then an hour to two hours of homework each evening.  His focus right now really needs to be Mandarin, so getting me out of his hair was another bonus of this trip home.  (Why is it that as soon as he is immersed in some language activity, I find the most brilliant meme on Stumble that I just MUST share?)

With a trip home in mind, and after some calls and Facebook-ing back and forth, it was decided that the excursion to Idaho would remain a secret to all but a select few.  What this really means is that Mom and Dad don’t know I am on the way!  Matt carefully checked some dates to make sure they would be around for the few weeks I would be home and then I booked tickets for July 19.  The plan was for Matt to invite himself to dinner, which would definitely not stand out at abnormal, and then I would show up with him and surprise them.

Once I was within about a week of that date, I found out that Mom and Dad bought tickets to the Idaho Stampede.  Hmm…that put a bit of a kink in our plans, as we would have to figure out where they were going to dinner pre-rodeo and get there are the right time.  It would be a bit weird, but we loved the idea that Mom would get to hang out for an hour and then head off to yet another event on her crammed social calendar.

All was planned and ready to go.  This morning I got up much too early (who knew there was a 5:00AM in Washington DC?) to get to the airport for my morning flight. The tickets were DC –CHI-BOI, arriving in Idaho just after noon.  The schedule was perfect!  It even allowed for an afternoon call from Mom (last night I reminded her to call BEFORE the rodeo, since it would be too late afterwards.)  Matt and I planned to giggle as I talked to her from his house.

What is it they say about the best laid plans?  Yup!  I arrived nice and early for my flight out of Reagan International, leaving sufficient time for my required pre-flight McDonald’s pancakes.  Once I realized that my terminal was void of Golden Arches establishments, foreboding struck deep in my gut.  No pancakes?  This was not going to be an optimal travel day.

Sure enough, it was all downhill from the start.  My United flight boarded normally, but after sitting on the tarmac for ninety minutes with several promises of “just fifteen more minutes folks,” the entire aircraft was de-boarded.  Apparently there was an issue with one of the three on-board navigational computers.  Everyone was ushered off the plane and put into lines as the customer service counter to rebook flights.  Twenty minutes later, when my line had moved forward by exactly two customers, an announcement came over the loudspeakers that our flight was to reboard the plane and we were headed to Chicago.

At this point, our plane took flight nearly two hours behind schedule.  There was no way most of us were going to make our connections in Chicago.  Sure enough, upon arrival, as I scurried to yet another customer service terminal, I was informed that my flight to Boise had already departed.  No problem, just book me on the next one, right?  The problem was, the next flight to Boise left Chicago at 9PM!  That’s right…9PM.  That would be nearly eleven hours later.  So much for my noontime arrival in Boise!

The clerk at the counter obviously had no power to do anything to help me out and I hate it when customers take their frustrations out on the guy at the bottom of the pecking order, so I asked where I could go to speak with a manager.  (Heck, I had ten hours to kill, so the fact that the main service desk was in the opposite terminal posed no issue for me.)

Customer service desk number 824 for the day yielded yet another line.  After waiting probably forty-five minutes, I was finally able to speak with another representative.  While waiting in line, I realized that the couple behind me and the young man behind them were all in the same situation- trying to get to Boise.  Once I finally reached the coveted counter, this employee told me that there was nothing she could do in terms of compensation, that there were no other flights to Boise today and that I would just have to wait it out.  It was time to step up the ladder a bit.  I asked to talk to a manager.  As I waited for the manager to arrive, I watched with fascination as the couple was given the same spiel as me, but the young man was quickly handed a $15 food voucher, no questions asked.  Hmmm..curious…

The manager finally arrived, charismatic and friendly as is possible.  As I explained my situation, I looked behind me to see the other three Boise-bound passengers joining in the discussion.  No problem.  They were dealing with the same thing I was.  The manager did some digging (or he possibly just hid in his office and enjoyed a Snickers bar for a few minutes) and reported back that there were no earlier flights on other airlines and there was little he could do other than offer us food vouchers and allow us into the Red Carpet Club for the day.

While this in my mind is not adequate compensation for an entire day wasted, I understand that it was all this gentleman could offer, so I thanked him for his help and accepted my $15, comfy chair, free internet access and all the cheese and crackers I could consume over the course of the next nine hours.

My high level of frustration has dimmed as the day has progressed, but my disappointment in our ruined surprise for tonight has not.  As I sit here, enjoying my cushioned window seat in the lounge of the elite fliers, I would much prefer to be visiting with family and enjoying time in Idaho.  I did use some of my waiting time productively- to submit a letter of complaint to United!  It makes me just a tad bit too happy that the letter was written in the confines of their exclusive travel room with their internet connection.

It is now 6:30 in Chicago, which means I have two and a half more hours until my flight leaves.  I will arrive in Boise at about 11:30PM, which makes my travel day eighteen hours by the time all is said and done.   I’ve ignored two incoming calls from my mom, for fear that she would overhear the very airport-ish announcements in the background. I have surfed through a good 82% of all content on the internet and I’ve finished nearly half of an awesome book about Peace Corps in China.  (Kosher Chinese by Michael Levy- hilarious!  I’ve broken the “quiet” rule in the airport travel mecca several times as I laughed at situations that I relate to all too well. )

A few more hours…cheese and crackers anyone?

Even though I in no way follow the phases of the moon, heck I can’t even keep track of the days of the week now that I am not working , I would have bet my mom’s favorite teddy bear on the fact that the moon was full this weekend. As a teacher, we often joked about how the students were more wound up and craziness ensued around the time of the full moon.    Apparently, the same holds true for adult behavior during those times as well.  Etymology even points us in this direction: lunacy, lunatic…

The plan for Saturday was pedicures in the morning with Erin (necessary after the blister incident in June) and then Transformers 3 in the evening with Thad.  It sounded like a great way to spend a Saturday, and really, when all was said and done, it was a good day.  But, between the great parts, there were some really odd ones.

After having my feet doted on at a salon at Eastern Market, my pretty pink toenails headed out to meet Thad downtown for lunch.  As we traipsed about town after lunch at the Old Ebbit Grill, we ran into our first peculiar event of the day.  In front of us, a woman dressed in nearly all white with long baggy sleeves, long baggy pants and hair partially covered in a blue scarf, exited the Macy’s store.  Not a handful of paces later, a large man stormed out of the store and grabbed this woman by the shoulders.  He started hollering at her, “Are you stupid or something? Are you dumb?”  Thad and I watched, dumbfounded.  At first we weren’t sure if this man was related to her and this was some type of domestic dispute or something else entirely, but soon two other employees rolled out of the store behind the main security guard.  It seems this woman was being accused of shoplifting, as the three workers roughly escorted her back into the building.  The whole incident took place in just a matter of seconds, but it was rather strange to witness.

Strolling onward, we did a bit of window shopping and then decided to head home to get out of the sun for a few hours before the movie.  The Metro system is always good for people watching and Saturday was possibly the best I’ve seen it.  Out of laziness, we took the blue train from DC back to Crystal City.  The train car was full, but not packed.  Thad and I were lucky enough to have front row seats for the show that was about to commence.   Two stops into what we thought would be an uneventful ride home, a middle-aged gentleman and his teenage daughter boarded the train.  The man instantly struck me as a bit of an odd duck and it wasn’t long until my hunch was confirmed for an entire car-load of passengers.  As this man got on the train, he was on a cell phone, talking rather loudly.  The one side of the conversation that I could hear went something like this:

Man: If you talk to her, tell her I borrowed her phone because mine doesn’t work in the subway.  I have her phone.  I’m not lying. I borrowed it because mine doesn’t work in the tunnels!

Pause…

Man: No, don’t call her.   If she asks, tell her I took it for today. Don’t make this harder.  I’m not lying.  I’m not going to break it.  I’m not going to smash it. I borrowed her phone because mine doesn’t work in the subway.

Pause…

Man: It isn’t my phone.  It is hers.  I’m borrowing it just for today.  It’s not my phone.  My phone doesn’t work in the subway.  I am using hers today.  Mine doesn’t work.

The conversation continued this way endlessly.  Everyone on the train could have succinctly explained that the phone wasn’t his and why he had it, but whoever he was talking to just didn’t seem to get it.  At first, people politely read their newspapers or stared at the empty space above the heads of the others, but this whole tirade soon became too much for everyone to handle.  The quiet giggling started with one young gal as her boyfriend taped the incident on a phone, but quickly spread throughout the front of the car.  A good minute into the routine, the women around us were passing out tissues to wipe away running mascara and holding their hands over their faces in a vain attempt to disguise their own laughter.  As this under-the-breath chuckling continued, I thought the poor man’s daughter was going to die of shame.

Once the borrower-of-the-cellphone finished his call, he turned to his daughter and told her to text the apparent receiver of the call that he had borrowed the phone because his didn’t work in the Metro.  (Really?  That point wasn’t made painfully clear in the phone call itself?) Again, a long conversation occurred about the ownership and reason for borrowing the phone. She quietly told him that everyone was looking at them and he was embarrassing her, but he loudly proclaimed he didn’t care and told her to “Go stand in the corner!”  This guy totally sent his mortified teenage daughter to stand in the corner of the moving train!

A stop later, the daughter was un-banished from the corner so that the dad could tell her that they needed to get off and trade to the yellow line.   “We need to get on the yellow line.  Yellow, like a bus.”  As if this poor girl was color blind! Luckily for the gal, their stop finally arrived and she was able to escape into the catacombs that are the DC Metro system.  I was impressed with how calmly this young lady dealt with her obviously wacky dad and hope to heaven that whoever actually owns that cell phone is a bit more relaxed and less excruciating to travel with!

Relief was felt throughout the train after the exit of this odd little family and we made our way home in relative normalcy.  If only that normalcy had lasted the extent of the day.  It was time to see one of the great cartoons from our childhood played out on the big screen, so after packing my sweater in preparation for the inevitably arctic setting of the movie theater, we headed into Chinatown.  A vat of soda later, as the climactic battle between Autobot and  Decepticon waged in full force, our theater was suddenly filled with strobe lights.  At first we both chalked it up to an idiot with a cell phone, but it quickly became apparent that the lights went along with the evacuation notice being broadcast over the loudspeakers.  You know the old saying about not yelling “fire” in a theater?  That’s where we were at!  Only, this theater is located on the third floor of a building.  So, let’s see: 14 theaters, opening weekend of Harry Potter, massive amounts of people= recipe for disaster.  Luckily, things went much smoother than I was imagining as this all happened.  With an undercurrent of panic, the crowd maintained order was we exited the theater, headed down a back stairwell and into the streets behind the movie house.

At this point there seemed to be little information or plan.  It didn’t take long before the lack of fire was apparent, but the alarms continued to go off, people were everywhere and organization was not to be found.  Rather than wait an hour to see the last ten minutes of the movie, we assumed the Autobots won (mostly because Optimus Prime is awesome!) and decided to enjoy the mild evening.

Our day of full-moon incidents ended with one other small occurrence.  As we wandered out of Chinatown and toward the Capital Building, we walked through an area of town filled with bars and their Saturday evening patrons.  One man, having just been forcefully invited to leave one such establishment, decided to take his anger out on a guy headed into that same place.  He proceeded to stand in the middle of the sidewalk and scream at this seemingly random and innocent older guy headed into the bar.  The funny part about this whole thing was that the drunk guy’s insults included a lot of “fat” and “huge” (all of course proceeded by a lovely, multi-functional  four-letter word that starts with an “f.”)  Problem?  The receiver of the verbal abuse was in no way fat; he really wasn’t even a politically correct “bigger.”  “Balding” or “aging” would have been much more accurate insults!

What was there to do at this point other than come home and instantly Google “full moon” to see if that would explain the craziness of the day.  In 0.12 seconds, I had 56,000 hits, with the top one confirming my suspicions-Friday night had been a full moon.   From the seizure of a shoplifter to awkward moments on the subway and theater fires to misplaced insults, it was definitely full-moon worthy day!