Cincinnati, again…

Well, this part was a little stressful. It turns out that the plane was fine (I was the back row on the left which has more leg room) and I figured out that I am an idiot when it comes to plugging my headphones into the Delta seats. My previous seatmate on the way out (the surfer/sprawler) must have covered up the fact that there are two fat holes for the audio input AND two little holes above. Didn’t see the little holes last time. Guess which fit my Bose headphones? Yep.

So I got to watch the in-flight movie, which was the movie “Invincible” about some bartender in the seventies who becomes a Philadelphia Eagle. Ethan had briefed me about this one and I knew he said it had good reviews. Mark Wahlberg plays the protagonist and he’s a good actor so I knew it wouldn’t be too bad. I really should never see movies in public, however, particularly ones about an underdog making good. I actually had to clap my hands over my eyes a few times when things got sticky in the plot and I was crying at the end, much to the consternation of my aloof seatmate reading The New York Review of Books. I think I might have yelled something once, but it wasn’t as bad as the time I watched Jaws at a special screening in college and ended up in the person’s lap next to me yelling, “Look out BEHIND you!!!”.

So more packaged snack (I told my husband that aside from my awesome morning French toast I didn’t eat anything that didn’t rustle in plastic first), and the Captain comes on the com letting us know that we’re going to begin our descent soon (good) and that we are running 10 minutes late. Pardon me? Wait. When is my flight to Wilkes-Barre? 7:35 pm. Huh. When are we do to land? 7:10 pm. How far do I have to go? To a different concourse, and I have to take a bus to get there. Uh-oh.

Particularly because I am in the last row of the plane. You know, the last row is where the people get off last. I considered inflating one of those slides from the back emergency exit, but I thought that in the long run that would delay me more. Delta administration indeed. Everyone was moving very slowly (does it actually take that long to grab a coat from the overhead bin? Do you HAVE to put in on in the aisle?) but as soon as I was clear I started running to the concourse bus. A small note here. Despite my perennial proximity to the bathrooms on planes, I actually had a full bladder as I was planning on using the airport ladies’ room which usually is bigger than a postage stamp. So I’m running, with a full bladder, carrying my computer bag (which appears to be gaining weight as I am running) and my stuffed purse, full tilt down the concourse.

I made it to Concourse C to gate seven at 7:29 pm (it’s really a big room with doors to a hallway where the gates are) to find out that the Wilkes-Barre flight has been thankfully delayed by 10 minutes. God is good. This enables me to use the bathroom, call Ethan who was worried about my making the flight, and send fervent prayers to the luggage gods that my bag will successfully make it’s way to the plane in question. (I just had visions of a slow luggage carrier on that slow car that goes “beep beep” when it travels with all the bags, yakking to his fellow handler, “so then I said to her, ‘are you kidding, baby?’ that’s not my speed, if you know whadda I’m saying, heh, heh.”).

A lovely short flight next to the toilet and disembarking at the lovely new airport in Avoca. I got down the baggage claim and was waiting FOREVER for the luggage (it takes longer in Wilkes-Barre than at any gigantic airport I’ve been) when this horrible high-pitched noise started, the kind that makes you want to put your hands over your ears or have a seizure. It lasted for easily 7 minutes until someone figured out what the problem was and turned it off, at which time all the people waiting for their baggage applauded. My bag came down the pike quickly, I phoned Ethan who was loitering in the rib joint parking lot, and went outside.

It was SO great to see Ethan, although negotiating the labyrinth of cars waiting for passengers was a little daunting (what happened to the TSA car nazi’s when we had the old terminal? They thought anyone waiting for more than two minutes was Bin Laden’s brother and sent you on your way.). Not only was my enthusiastic husband there, but my sweet golden retriever Bugsy was there giving my a huge tailway and even a snuffly kiss as he tried to get in the front seat to greet me!!! It’s good to be home.