[NOTE: written by hand and transcibed later, after we got home.]
Sitting, waiting for the plane to arrive is never very exciting. I’ve already made my way through 402 pages of a magazine & we still have just over an hour until the plane should get here. It’s going to be a tiny little plane, to; there are only 50 seats. We’re in row 5… I was just re-reading about our flight on the 8-seater in Ireland. I’m not too nervous, I’m just worried about feeling nauseated from the air pressure.
Things at the airport are considerably easier than I expected. It’s not too crowded — although it is a Thursday — and the line at security wasn’t terrible, either. The TSA agents were extra-interested in the batteries for the camcorder. What is it with DHS & video cameras?
I am so ready to get out of town. Work has been getting me down lately. I thought the humidity would be worse here this summer. We picked Montreal in September not only because it’s our anniversary the 8th and my birthday a week ago, but also because we figured that we’d be sick of the sticky weather. Maybe we’ll at least miss any hurrican Frances remnants that come this way.
This plane is so tiny. Walking on the tarmac is always good. We got to see our bag get loaded and everything. It’s quite comforting to know that well have clean clothes for the weekend. Of course, we’ll have to get off the runway first!
In the air now. Not high enough for my head to be terribly hapy. Ears are going nuts, too. I’m sure Bren’s are worse, though.
I’m not a big fan of not knowing exactly where we are. I love the gadgets on the big new planes that show a map & the plane movement. If I had to guess it’d be PA or NY.
Holy moly. The line at customs was two hours long. It was crazy. We landed at about seven, seven thirty, but didn’t get out until almost 9:20! A line is a line, thought. There isn’t much that can be done.
September 16, 2001
We leave terribly early. We are anticipating and get super long lines. It’s the first day of international flights back to the US. We’re a little nervous, but mostly just anxious to get home.
I haven’t flown a lot, so I don’t really have a lot of reference, but the crowds are just amazing. There’s a guy behind us in line, who we ended up calling Crazy Harry trying to butt in line. He’s running his cart full of his family’s luggage into my ankles. Eventually, we figure he’s not quite right and give him a little break, but it’s still frustrationg.
Once we finally almost get to the ticket counter, the girl in front of us is trying frantically to get a seat and being a general pain in the ass to the workers. Yes, we all understand that you want to get home, but so do all of these other people. Then, she has the gall to ask if she’s getting a window seat! You guessed it, she sits next to me.