femminista: thoughts of a feminist rhetorician

I'm back in Lafayette after a difficult and exhausting trip to SC. I left Indianapolis in the late afternoon on Friday and started off my trip by having an anxiety attack because of my extremely cramped quarters. Given that I am just slightly above 4'11" it is a truly sad day when I don't have enough room. What about all of the normal-sized adults? The NWA (henceforth referred to as Northworst Airlines)flight attendants were remarkably unsympathetic and the woman who gave me her aisle seat did so grudgingly. Needless to say, the rest of the flight was miserable as I tried to regulate my breathing while enduring the glare of nearby passengers and the refusal of the flight attendants to give me any coffee. My trip was not off on the best foot.

My flight landed in Memphis after a bumpy descent and I did my best to get off the plane and to my gate in time to make my connecting flight. The gate agent meeting the flight told me the correct gate number and I was off. Yet, as I passed the bank of computer monitors, I felt compelled to check the gate number again. Locating Columbia, SC on the monitor, I scanned over to see....CANCELLED. You must be joking. Surely I have misread. But no, my flight was indeed cancelled. The gate agent who confirmed the flight status seemed annoyed that I had interupted her chat with a neighboring gate agent and reluctantly assisted me in rebooking. "I can get you on a flight leaving tomorrow at 2:20pm." I'm pretty sure that my response sounded a little like this: "are you effing kidding me?" To contextualize, it was currently a little after 6 pm on Friday and she wanted me to hang out until 2:20 the next afternoon. Unhappy doesn't even begin to cover it. Apparently, they only had one flight to Columbia on Saturday and though I strongly encouraged her to find me a seat with another airline, I had no luck. My next question: is there a flight back to Indianapolis? But instead I had her book me on the Saturday afternoon flight and headed to see another gate agent to get my hotel voucher, etc. At this point I am desperately in need of consultation. Unfortunately, my Blackberry battery had died before I left Indy and I had forgotten to pack a charger. With no cell phone to use, I located some pay phones with credit card slots and they promptly rejected my card...again. And again. Trying to locate a charger in the nearest newsstands was fruitless and I headed toward the gate agent. After negotiation and disucssion, I decided to take an earlier flight that would require me to change planes again in Atlanta before continuing to Columbia. No matter. I'm going to SC to VOTE! I'm not taking the chance that I get there after the polls close.

Armed with my hotel and meal vouchers (and as I will later realize a contraband pocket knife), I headed to find a cell phone charger. Four newsstands and one bookstore later, I have a $27 battery powered charger and am waiting for the battery to charge enough to enable the wireless. Phone calls made. I headed toward the restaurant that the kind overhead announcer had informed me allowed smoking. I needed a drink and a cigarette. In that order. When I reached the restaurant, I realized that the smoking area had extremely loud live music and I had a headache and another phone call to make. So, I settle for a drink and the slightly less noisy non-smoking section.

If NY is the city that never sleeps, Memphis is apparently the city that goes to bed before my grandmother. When I tried to order food at about ten past seven, I discover that the kitchen is closed and the restaurant closes at 7:30pm. What the f**k? The other restaurants in the airport seem to be similarly geriatric. Long story short (as if) I make it to the hotel where the room is freezing, the staff is creepy and the restaurant service is abysmal at best. Oh, and the hotel bar closes at 10pm.

After getting all of three hours of sleep in my frigid hotel room and trying to freshen up with Northworst's sorry excuse for a toiletry kit, I'm downstairs looking for coffee of which there is none. Fine. I'll go on to the airport. At this point I discover that my pocket knife is in the front pocket of my bag. The same bag that went through security in Indianapolis and was run through the x-ray machine. Twice. Fantastic. Now I need to find a way to ship this back to myself because I seriously doubt that I'll make it through security again. Guess what? No where in the Memphis airport can you purchase packing materials of any kind or postage! So, after appealling to multiple airlines for assistance, I buy a greeting card, address it to myself and use the same address for the return, seal it up and drop it, sans postage, in the nearest mailbox.

Eventually, I make it to SC, get to my voting precinct where...wait for it...they don't have me on the rosters! Anyway, after spending quite a bit of time on hold during multiple phone calls, I was able to cast my vote and Success! Civic duty fulfilled and I need a drink!