Blogger on a Plane

So, right now I'm on a plane from LGA to ATL, and let me tell you, did I barely make it. Brief recap of the morning: up at 6, I get the genius idea that I should drive to NYC for my meeting today, rather than train in. This way, when I fly from Chicago back to NYC on Friday night, rather than waiting in the cab line, going to Grand Central, and jumping on a 2 hour train ride back home, I could simply park at LaGuardia, get off the plane Friday, jump in my car, and be home in little more than an hour. Big mistake. Left the house at 7, realized I needed gas. Is it raining? Of course it is. Am I in my suit and tie? You know it! Did the gas station shelter have 1,000 leaks in it so that water was splashing up on me from all angles while filling up? Now you're getting it! Did I accidentally smear the back of my suit along my wet, dirty car trying to avoid said splashes from all angles? Ding ding ding! It's now 7:44, and I've already gotten off to a shit start. Then, because Northeasterners treat rain like Southerners treat snow, it took me FOUR HOURS to drive 80 miles down I-95 into NYC. Even made a stop in Bridgeport, attempting to jump on a Metro North train just so I could make the meeting on time. Did I get to the ticketing counter just in time to watch the aforementioned Metro North train head off? You know the answer to that. Anyway, long story short, I had to push back my 10am meeting until noon, and push back my 2pm flight to 3pm.

All of that nonsense behind me, I figure the day is mine. The meeting goes off pretty swell, all things considered, and I'm ready to head out to Atlanta for the next set of meetings tomorrow. "Off to LaGuardia, and fuck this noise!" I think to myself, softly pumping my fist as I take the BQE to the airport. So, I'm following signs at the airport, and one sign says "Terminals A, B" and points off to the left. I know I'm looking for Terminal D, so smartly, I continue on. In a few feet, I see a sign that says "Terminals C, D and All Parking" with an arrow off to the right. Continuing to be the college grad that I am, I follow this sign. Shortly thereafter, one sign says "Short-term Parking" and points one way, another sign says "Long-Term Parking P3"  and points the other way. I take this other way. It directs me around in a circle and into a huge parking lot. Given that it's raining and this lot is not covered, I'm not thrilled about it, but hey, that's about all you can expect from New York's infrastructure, which I'm rapidly realizing is lagging behind India's. Not caring to lug my umbrella to Atlanta and then Chicago, where it certainly is not raining, I figure I'll make a mad dash into the terminal--after all, it's not raining that hard. After walking a few hundred yards with my suitcase, my laptop bag, and my co-worker's suitcase (I volunteered to take his bag with me, because I can check it for free--see post below about what a stand-up guy TheRanga is), I notice that the building with the huge "Delta Air Lines" sign on it is not, in fact, Terminal D. It is some Delta Cargo bay with no entrance. Confused, I look around, and realize I've walked about a hundred yards in the wrong direction and need to backtrack. Annoying? Yes. Is it raining harder now? Of course. Am I pretty pissed off that my shit day continues? You bet.

So I soldier on, getting my suit and my luggage drenched. When I arrive at the terminal, I realize this is not Terminal D--there are nothing but US Airways ticketing signs all around me. Confused, I ask a uniformed man where Delta is, and he gestures further in the direction that I'm walking. I look off, and in the distance, I see a small building, which apparently passes for Terminal D at this airport. By my estimation, it's another quarter mile of trudging out in the open. I'm already sweaty, drenched with rain, and flabbergasted that LaGuardia would make any passenger walk this far, uncovered, to their terminal. What about days when it snows??? And then, it dawns on me that I parked in P3, which is apparently PARKING FOR TERMINAL B, YOU LAGUARDIA ASSHOLES! HOW ABOUT A FUCKING SIGN?!? Literally, I followed the sign for Terminals C and D and Long-term parking, and ended up getting donkey punched by the Port of New York. At this point, I'm feeling very hoodwinked. My whole plan to conveniently walk off the plane right to my car on Friday night is clearly shot in the ass.

So again, to recap: in order to save 2 hours of taxis and trains and make life easier on myself Friday night when I arrive at LGA, I decided to drive to LGA today and park there. This cost me a rain-smeared Canali suit at the gas station, a 4-hour marathon drive during which I maxed out at 44mph, a postponed meeting, a pushed-back flight, a re-soaking of the suit and luggage, and a 3/4 mile walk to my terminal. All so I can land on Friday and again walk 3/4 mile back to my car. It's just that easy!