In the past few weeks, I’ve made some expensive mistakes. I dropped my iPhone and shattered it into a level of non-readability. I did some accidental trick driving in the snow, and pushed my radiator support clips* into the ground, not upright and working properly.
And then I missed a flight, for the first time ever.
In total, the above added up to some serious mullah (I’m not counting on purpose, so don’t ask). But they’ve also required me to live like a real ratchet-ass. Like not having a car. And carrying a phone charger 24-hours a day (outlet and car versions), to juice-up my replacement phone twice per day. I walked multiple miles to a gas station to buy lotto tickets and booze, which were then stashed in my coat. In the morning time.
It did wonders for my self-esteem.
Really, until the third event, I was doing pretty alright in life. “My car is broken,” I announced when taking it to get fixed. “At least my radiator didn’t crash onto highway.”
“It could have been worse,” I boasted.
And then it actually got worse.
“Missing” a Flight by Four Minutes
In case you’ve never missed a flight, it’s damn terrible. And instead of whining about it for thousands of words, or explaining why Frontier is the worst airline that’s ever existed and why it should die in a fiery and painful explosion involving propane and a total loss of assets, I’ll write a timeline of events.
- Ginger friend and I go to print our boarding passes. Are told to approach the desk. We wait while a man types, then tells us we are too late to check in. By four minutes.
- We explain we already checked in, and are sent to kiosk #1. I’m mostly sure he’s trying to get rid of us.
- The travelers in front of us at kiosk #1 run into a long-lost friend. They hug multiple times, even after I explain we’re in a hurry.
- Clerk #1 says it will be “a while” and directs us to a third clerk. Third clerk says there is no record of our online check-in from the previous day. She also wants to get rid of us.
- A fourth clerk tells us our options: to fly home tomorrow (yeah right), book with another airline ($200 at the cheapest, each, and non-direct), or to accept flight credit. She sends us to yet another worker.
- Fifth clerk explains our $71 credits can be used with a simple $75 transfer fee.
- Ginger friend asks, “What the f*ck is the difference?” And to shut her up, I shove my hand in her face and tell worker #5 “She’s sorry.”
- They are officially fed up with our white girl ways and we leave the Frontier area.
- They gave away our seats.
- The workers saw us coming and said, “What a couple of bitches. They probably steal; let’s treat them like hell.” Which seemed to be the general consensus of the vacation – we were followed in every store. One lady stood by my side and folded shirts as I set them down. An event that caused me to leave.
- Just so we’re being clear, I’m not saying I’m not a bitch. I’m saying I don’t steal.
- The universe didn’t want us on that plane.
- Something about bad things happening in threes, and that was my third and crowning event. (Seriously, the worst day since I wrecked my car and deleted my hard drive in 2009.)
We eventually made it home, I promise. The logistics of which I’ll tell with part two – join me on this hellish journey with next week’s #NewBlogTuesday.
*For anyone who doesn’t know what those are – me 10 days ago – they’re metal brackets that keep the radiator from falling clean out of your car. (And no, mine didn’t fall out; the cords, thankfully, held it in place.)