On The Road Again

I’m sitting in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport as I write this. I’m on the road to liveblog my father’s funeral.

Well, maybe not the best idea in the world; but some things you just get one chance for, right?

We got on the highway to the San Antonio airport at 5:45 am. Wonder of wonders, Julian the Wonder Boy was up early and ready to dump Dad off at the airport and be free of his tantrums for three days. We made a quick stop-off for souvenirs for Aunt Joanne at Wal-Mart (continuing our tradition of traveling the finer Wal-Marts of the world), then drove down U.S. 281 to the airport.

As we passed the end of the runway just south of Bitters Road I feigned slamming the car through the barriers towards the runway lights to my right. “Oh Look – there’s the Airport!!!!,” I screamed malevolently.

Julian rolled his eyes in that teen-aged way that all teenagers seem to have instinctively – knowing full well that their parents are complete and total idiots, and that they know everything in the world. “There no exit there, Dad.”

“Well, there is NOW!,” I cackled.

Julian sighed, deeply. ™.

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Got into the airport a little after 6:30 am for my 10:10 am flight and checked in. Someday I want to meet Richard Reid, the idiot jihadist who tried (unsuccessfully) to light his explosive-laden shoes on fire and blow up a plane. I want to thank him – personally – for making me and millions of other air travelers have to partially disrobe to get through the metal detectors. Oh, and the knucklehead jihadis who made it impossible for me to bring my shaving cream, body wash, and/or antiperspirant onboard the flight.

Fortunately, I had brought half-empty cans of the above for the flight. Usually I buy brand new stuff to take – had I had to throw away $15.00 of brand-new supplies, I’d be really pissed right now instead of mildly annoyed.


So there I was at 7:30 am, waiting for my 10:10 am flight when I heard the melodious tones of the American Airlines announcer impart her wonderful wisdom that the flight for Dallas leaving in 10 minutes had seats available, and anyone wishing to go now from a later flight could board now.

Fancy that!

So I did, which is why I’m in the airport in Dallas at 9:20am – almost an hour before my regularly scheduled flight departs from San Antonio. I might even be able to get back to San Antone early and pick up a shift at the Ortho Hospital Saturday. That’s a GOOD thing when you have unexpected expenses suddenly, like flights for funerals and falderal.

And, as you can see from the photo, the bathrooms in Dallas are not only bilingual; they are also designated tornado shelters. Weird.

I think if the tornado comes, I do NOT want to die in the DFW men's bathroom. I'd probably die under the pile of U.S.Senators hanging out there.

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The shortest flight on record -- 52 minutes flat. The plane (an MD-80 for those of you who understand this lingo) went straight up, straight down, and BAM!, there we are.

Cool!

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We got in and I immediately asked the ticket agent when the next flight to Des Moines was -- "It's in twenty minutes. You'll have to Hurry -- it's in terminal B-9."

Two terminals away!

Fortunately they have this nifty people-mover monorail that got me over to Terminal B-9 about 1 minute before the 9:40 am flight left -- and it was delayed until 10:00 am.

Perfect!

Off we go again!