Norfolk, VA
Well, today we woke up at the crack of automated wake-up call and groggily set about showering up and loading the car. We’d unanimously agreed that *of course* we could somehow be much faster this morning, so the wake up call gave us a half an hour more sleep… for a grand total of six and a half hours.
Amazingly, we were up, ready, packed, breakfasted, and on the road by ten minutes til eight, which was actually ten whole minutes before schedule. Turned out we needed those ten minutes and then some – when I’d indulged in that extra half hour of sleep, I’d totally forgotten to take rush hour traffic into account.
We sailed out of Williamsburg and onto the highway, where we were greeted with an ever-growing sea of brake lights. Eventually, the two lanes widened into four (on each side) and we had the good fortune to be the only car in the HOV lane for a good 15 minutes… until the HOV lane ended and the highway went from four lanes… to three… to two… to construction… to Check Gas – 3 Mile Tunnel Ahead.
Yeah, that’s right.
As always in such circumstances, traffic ground to a halt (except for the jerks who fly around the exit only lanes to cut back in, one–maybe two–cars ahead of where they were in the first place) but we were able to see massive ships (with their own skylines, they were so big! We thought it was land at first.) and experience driving through a 3 mile tunnel.
On the other side, traffic picked back up to normal speed and we made it to Norfolk only slightly behind schedule. My second-biggest concern at this time was filling up the rental car with gas so that I didn’t have to cash in an IRA or anything to pay the crazy Ha-ha!-You-sucker!-You-didn’t-fill-your-tank-and-now-you-owe-us-your-life! fees. My first-biggest concern was that the hotel didn’t have an available printer, so we were unable to check-in online ahead of time for our flight.
If you’ve never flown Southwest, this may mean nothing to you. So what? you say. Just check in at the airport, like normal people, you say. Ha! I snort in your general direction. =) Actually, Southwest is a little different. (Haven’t you ever seen the truly frightening television show “Airline”???)
First of all, there are no assigned seats. There being three of us (one a minor, one with motion sickness and a slight fear of flying, and one being me and in charge of everything,) I really wanted us all together.
To get on the plane, people are categorized in three groups – A, B, and C. First, people with children or wheelchairs board – and sit anywhere they want. Next, the entire A group boards – and plops down anywhere *they* want. Then B, and last C.
Near as anyone can tell, Southwest assigns groups based on the order of check-in. First they fill up the A group, then the B group, and so on. Therefore, checking in online 24 hours in advance is a clear advantage… and one we didn’t have, since by my watch the plane would board in less than an hour and a half.
So, I gassed up the car, rolled into the airport, and pulled into the Enterprise lot. A twenty-something girl – quite possibly the most sourfaced, snarky person on the planet – greeted us with a scowl.
She held out her hand as I stepped out of the car. I must’ve hesitated a moment too long, because she finally spoke. “Can I *have* the keys?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t know what you were reaching for.”
She rolled her eyes and tapped her handheld PDA-thing. “Where’s the paperwork?”
“Oh, crap,” I answered. “It’s in my suitcase. Give me a sec and I’ll get that out for you… unless you can hunt me up in that computer?”
She scowled. “You should *always* have it on you. ALWAYS.”
“You’re right, it’s not on me, although it is *with* me… Let me pop the trunk and I’ll get out my suitcase…” I pop the trunk and the boys start unloading the back.
She taps into her PDA. “Ridley?”
“Yes.”
“Erica?”
“Yes.”
“You’re returning the car?”
??? “Yes.”
She sniffs and starts walking away.
“So…” I start trailing after her. “Since you found me in the computer, do you still need to see that paperwork?”
She stalks further around the car without responding.
I stop moving and try again. “Do you need the paperwork still?”
She tosses her head. “I’m LOOKING for DAMAGE.”
Er, okay. “But do you need the paperwork? If you do, I’ll be glad to get it. If you don’t, we’ll get our bags out of your way and-”
“Just go past the building on the right and walk to the terminal.”
Okay, then.
What a ray of sunshine. On that cheery note, the boys and I glanced at each other and silently agreed that further conversation would be useless. We grabbed our bags and headed out of there before Miss Personality changed her mind.
Once we made it inside the airport, we quickly discovered that we were at the furthest possible point from the Southwest counter. (It was at the diagonal opposite of the airport, but of course you can’t cross an airport diagonally, so we had some fun sprinting with suitcases.)
I had had the foresight to sign my brothers up with Southwest frequent flyer numbers (knowing that nearly always gives preferential treatment at any airline) and somehow we managed to land a B, and escape the dreaded C group.
Our flight from Norfolk, Virginia to Indianapolis, Indiana was fairly uneventful (except for a random pitstop in Baltimore) and my parents met us three yards from the security exit. We headed straight home, except for stopping at Steak and Shake, where nobody got steak but everybody got shakes, except my dad, who got coffee. (Mine was a Caramel Mocha Macchiato… dee-lish)
And that, my friends, rounded out our adventure!