To the Max
I'm in Seattle! Conference on Library Assessment. We will all sit around, observing each other and making furious notes on our notepads. I'm thinking of wearing a turtleneck with a big medallion around neck, so I can look more like an anthropologist.
The trip was messed up -- I'd rushed to clean home into semblance of home (versus landfill) since Lisa is going to get there before me on Wednesday. I was going to take airporter, but was a bit late -- so I called a cab to get a ride to the airport, thinking, "no big deal. Work can pay." They said 5-15 minutes. After 20, no cab. I called again, and the woman said no one had picked up the call. Was there any way she could put an 'urgent' on it? No. Could she call me back if no one picked it up? No. How would I know that a cab was actually coming? I could call back. Should I call another cab company? (I asked this, thinking, "this will put the fear of God into her.") Sure, if I wanted. But if I did, I better call this company back and cancel, because if they both showed up at the same time, I would never get a cab from this company again.
I'm still calm, but disbelieving and crabby. Call another cab company; they are to come right away. Cab comes. Off we go. Cabdriver asks what airline I'm on? I say Horizon. He says, what? I say, Alaskan. He tells me he's just back from a cruise to Alaska. I say, no, I'm going to Seattle. I'm flying Alaskan. I close eyes so as not thave to chat for remainder of ride. We get to airport, and I hand him my credit card. Remember that 'slow old man' skit Tim Conway did on the Carol Burnett show? Seriously: he says, "oh." Takes card, and places slip over it. Doesn't have pen to rub the imprint. I hand him pen. He tries to take imprint. Doesn't work. I ask, "Should I do this?" No, he's got it under control. (He likely wanted to make sure I wasn't going to defraud him.) Makes imprint. I sign. Now he has to call it in for verification.
he slooowly tok out a piece of paper from his wallet. Read the instructions out loud, one by one. Reads them out loud a second time. Reads first out, and follows it. Reads second out. Reads it again. Ad nauseum.
Finally I say, "You know, I'm going to miss my flight. I'm sorry. My card is good. You'll have to trust it." And ran out of the cab. Got through all my lines. The customs dude asked me if I was going to a "Muslim flag-burning conference or a librarian conference." I bite tongue and smile politely. Finally get to gate.
On plane, we are about to take off, and the cover to one of the overhead bins falls off. A few minutes' wait, and they announce they are just waiting for somone to fix it. More wait. Etc. Eventually, we deplane. We end up leaving at 7pm, 5.5 hours later than planned. I slept on the airport chairs.
But no sympathy my way. I am staying in the Hotel Max. ! A short walk from Macy's, Anthropologie, and Nordstrom sales outlet.
The trip was messed up -- I'd rushed to clean home into semblance of home (versus landfill) since Lisa is going to get there before me on Wednesday. I was going to take airporter, but was a bit late -- so I called a cab to get a ride to the airport, thinking, "no big deal. Work can pay." They said 5-15 minutes. After 20, no cab. I called again, and the woman said no one had picked up the call. Was there any way she could put an 'urgent' on it? No. Could she call me back if no one picked it up? No. How would I know that a cab was actually coming? I could call back. Should I call another cab company? (I asked this, thinking, "this will put the fear of God into her.") Sure, if I wanted. But if I did, I better call this company back and cancel, because if they both showed up at the same time, I would never get a cab from this company again.
I'm still calm, but disbelieving and crabby. Call another cab company; they are to come right away. Cab comes. Off we go. Cabdriver asks what airline I'm on? I say Horizon. He says, what? I say, Alaskan. He tells me he's just back from a cruise to Alaska. I say, no, I'm going to Seattle. I'm flying Alaskan. I close eyes so as not thave to chat for remainder of ride. We get to airport, and I hand him my credit card. Remember that 'slow old man' skit Tim Conway did on the Carol Burnett show? Seriously: he says, "oh." Takes card, and places slip over it. Doesn't have pen to rub the imprint. I hand him pen. He tries to take imprint. Doesn't work. I ask, "Should I do this?" No, he's got it under control. (He likely wanted to make sure I wasn't going to defraud him.) Makes imprint. I sign. Now he has to call it in for verification.
he slooowly tok out a piece of paper from his wallet. Read the instructions out loud, one by one. Reads them out loud a second time. Reads first out, and follows it. Reads second out. Reads it again. Ad nauseum.
Finally I say, "You know, I'm going to miss my flight. I'm sorry. My card is good. You'll have to trust it." And ran out of the cab. Got through all my lines. The customs dude asked me if I was going to a "Muslim flag-burning conference or a librarian conference." I bite tongue and smile politely. Finally get to gate.
On plane, we are about to take off, and the cover to one of the overhead bins falls off. A few minutes' wait, and they announce they are just waiting for somone to fix it. More wait. Etc. Eventually, we deplane. We end up leaving at 7pm, 5.5 hours later than planned. I slept on the airport chairs.
But no sympathy my way. I am staying in the Hotel Max. ! A short walk from Macy's, Anthropologie, and Nordstrom sales outlet.
Labels: assessing, librarians, work
posted by Allison at 7:40 AM
4 Comments:
I think your label should be "work."
I hate that sinking feeling, when the cab does not come. Glad that you made it through everything. With your turtleneck and medallion, don't you also need some kind of a hat?
Maybe a big pimp hat? Or a little porkpie?
Don't you mean my label shouldn't include 'work,' Theresa?
It should include "work." You know, ironically. It really doesn't work if I have to explain it.
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