Shit. Now I have that Phil Collins song in my head.
This afternoon I took my thirteen metric tons of luggage and went to Bangor International (ah.. international) to fly back to the corn. I said my goodbyes and waited for my flight whilst eating airport clam chowder. Airport clam chowder!, you exclaim. Well, let me tell you a secret: everyone in this whole damn state, from the moment of birth, can fashion a savory chowdah from clam stock, potatoes, cream and the beasts themselves. That airport chowder was four hundred times tastier than anything I have been offered anywhere else outside of New England; it begs the question of why I try anymore. This includes the hag who works behind "The Coffee Shop" as well; her secret was a whisper of rosemary. So, as I looked out at the Maine skyline(trees), cradling my creamy treat, I thought: something's amiss.
I don't know what triggered it. The treat was agreeing with me; I'd purchased something delighful as a gift for someone who deserves it (cryptic!), and I was properly... rested. For some reason, I knew that I wasn't going to be going home to the corn today. When our plane hadn't yet arrived and it was ten minutes before we were supposed to be in the air, I thought: huh. When the plane came, and the pilot was one of the first people off the plane, I thought: double huh. When the airport staff started talking behind their folders about the flight, I thought:
Effing huh.
Well, it turns out that something was wrong with the plane. This news came after about a half hour of edginess bordering on mutiny. One wheelchair-bound woman stood up out of her chair just to fling a crap-loaf she'd made in her hand at the "cheerful" airport staff when the announcement came over the P.A. system. Several small chidren stopped munching on each other's digits to wail like trailer-living mongrels in heat. As I trudged down the stairs to the baggage claim to get my suitcases and call my mother, I thought: I'm not surprised that this happened. On the tail of that thought came, That airline employee has reflexes like a ninja, what with how she dodged that turd.
So, another night here in the woods. It could have been worse: I could have been stranded some evil place, like red-state-Ohio, instead of five blocks from my home. For dinner I ate a gigantic plate of Gulf of Maine shrimp; in a few hours I have to tuck in so that my FIVE FORTY A.M. flight won't be met by a Domonic whose need to kill has manifested.
Good night, Bangor.
Dom
3 comments:
Oh, I think everyone here at OIS could have predicted your broken plane. I think the FD is cursed. Brooke was almost taken away entirely by some very contagious bronchitis. In my FD they forgot to "extend me another month" so I had planned a vacation. We thought we were going to have some coverage this year, but I think it is time that we just give up!
Safe trip home and see you soon!
Curious: A wise man travels from the East (or at least an airport in the east), bearing gifts ("I'd purchased something delighful as a gift.") Could it be gold, or frankincense or myrrh? Or perhaps a bowl of clam chowder?
And would this wise man, who has a thing for THE wise men, do anything special on Epiphany? (The traditional 12th night jump into the White River?)If the kings have a day, this would be it.Please tell us how you plan to spend it!
haha, I could see the loaf of bread hitting a staff member. After being hit the staff member would still have their fake smile locked and pasted on their face and just tilt their head like a confused dog.
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