(This is actually something I wrote months ago and completely forgot to publish. In the interest of documenting more of my intrepid airport adventures, I figured I’d not waste it)

I fly a lot. Really, a lot. The logical result of this, is that I fucking hate airports. As may have been evidenced by previous posts, I go to quite spectacular lengths to avoid spending undue amounts of time in airports. I, quite frankly, scoff at airports. I laugh in the face of impossible plane-getting odds, I time my journey down to an error margin of minutes. In short, I fuck with airports. And as is let’s face it, statistically likely, airports fuck with me right back.

Today has been a cunning and deviously structured attempt to prevent me getting back to New York. Harken to my tale of basic irritation… My company have some sort of contract deal with Air Canada of a satanically binding nature, so we always use them to fly any route they cover. Having brought only carry-on luggage with me outbound to Canada I decided to check in on-line for my return journey. This took me ten fucking minutes, 8 of which were finding the button that would allow me to print a boarding pass. So either this website is deeply unintuitive, or my brain has dissolved and is oozing slowly out my ears as I type. *wipes up excess goo*

On my journey to the departures lounge, I managed to leave my glasses in a taxi, leave my passport on top of a trash can, and incorrectly fill in part of a customs form I have already filled in at least 7 times before. Ok, so that stuff was all me, perhaps the melting brain theory has more credence than I expected. But there was airport stuff too, I swear. Like the fact that I walked all the way to my gate, having looked up the map and seen there was a restaurant right beside it, only to discover there was a massive undocumented security door preventing the 5 metre walk from one to the other. So I walked all the way back to the restaurant beside security, wolfed down a sandwich, and abandoned half my beer to walk briskly all the way back down, only to hear an announcement as I arrived that my flight was suddenly at final call, and my gate had changed to one beside the restaurant I had fucking well eaten in 10 minutes before, necessitating a brisk dash all the way back, filled with cheeseburger sloshing around in Heineken.

I walked onto the plane, and realised it was one of those little planes that you better not be carrying more than a notebook onto, because they have the overhead storage space of a small child’s lunchbox. Naturally my attempt to bring only hand luggage for a weeks stay had resulted in the largest allowable luggage, which then had to be checked in anyway, and so I resigned myself to not having a speedy departure from LaGuardia. And a good fucking thing too.

As I write this, I sit in a pokey airport strewn with the occasional clearly non-functioning plane, and surrounded by fields. What happened? Well, LaGuardia was busy when we arrived, and because this plane is only slightly bigger than one I got in trouble for firing at someone’s head when I was 7, we could only circle for 20 minutes before running out of fucking fuel. Apparently the solution to this is not to actually land us, but to send us to Stuart International Airport, Newberg, New York state. Where we have been for two and a half fucking hours, re-fueling, marvelling that a runway can have so much grass on it, and generally pissing about.

I am also sitting beside a small phillippina lady, who is quite possibly the most dreadful person I have ever met and believe me, this is a competitive title. She laughs like Fran Drescher and endlessly moans about every step of our ludicrously arduous journey. If there were anything that would make me sympathise with the pilot and crew, it is this woman. Her sole redeeming quality has been the inspired decision to ask for free booze, which has worked admirably. But if I do not get off this plane soon, I may end up strangling her with her own large intestine.

I think this is what they mean by “karmic realignment”. Bastards.