Jet Lagged

Well, it finally happened. I officially lost my sense of humor and my patience with all of my interview traveling adventures.

I'm toast.

Last week I went on two job interviews: one in North Carolina and one in Maryland, near my beloved DC.

En route to North Carolina, I was OF COURSE delayed in Atlanta and called my parents to joke about it. It was still funny then.

My interview there was . . . weird . . . and from the moment I stepped off the plane, felt like a waste of time. Seriously. It just didn't seem like they were honestly interested in me for the position. Oh, I know that if you're a final candidate (1 of 4) then they MUST be somewhat interested. I mean, they didn't ask the other 96 applicants, right? But it just appeared to me that the candidate they really wanted was coming after me and I was only there "just in case." I don't think I really had the attention of the search committee chair until I taught my class. Ugh.

Of course, at dinner the first night I committed a MAJOR faux pas, which I'm sure didn't help me. I think I was brain dead. Honestly. I had spent the bulk of the dinner being ignored by two faculty members and finally dessert was served. I hadn't ordered any, but the soon-to-be-interim-chair didn't like the sorbet he was sharing and suggested I taste it. Well, my silverware had been cleared so I . . . hold onto your hats, folks . . . reach for his dirty spoon like he's my good friend. Wait, it gets better. The two faculty members look at me like I'm from Emily Post's worst nightmare (and to be fair, in this moment I was) and I say in response . . . drum roll please . . . "you don't have cooties do you?" I SWEAR. OMG. My brain FINALLY kicked in before I licked the stupid thing and dove into the sorbet. As the server passed, I asked for a new spoon. But the damage had been done. I clearly had cooties.

The trip home was pretty good . . . there was a short delay in North Carolina, but whatever - I'm used to it, right? I called my folks and joked some more.

I managed pretty well again on Thursday when the universe conspired to send me the break down of American Airlines AND a major storm in the Midwest at the same time. Ugh. I spent 7 hours in the tiny airport near my home. Yes, 7 hours. I begged the Fight Guy to play hooky and join me at the bar, but he resisted. So I graded some papers and laughed with PhD and my folks about my karma. Of course, I had to reschedule a bunch of interview stuff 'cause I didn't get into my hotel in Maryland until 12:30 AM Friday.

The interview there went well - certainly better than the one earlier in the week! The program is completely different so seeing myself there requires thinking about my teaching in an entirely new way, but that's okay. I would still get back HOME and there is a lot to like about that. I managed to see a few friends while in DC: stayed with the Actor-Who-Always-Works-Out-of-Town and her husband, the Scientist. We got to Granville Moore on H Street for mussels, frites, and a super-yummy beet salad. Oh yeah, and of course some wine! We spent the rest of the evening hanging out as AWAWOOT prepped packed for yet another gig in Pittsburgh. But I missed many others due to the stupid airline delay and that bummed me out.

Sunday morning, AWAWOOT drove me to BWI so I wouldn't have to take the bus (how GREAT of her). I checked in, grabbed a coffee and bagel, and hung out. A few minutes before the scheduled boarding time, the agent asked for volunteers to give up their seats for a free round-trip ticket. YIPPEE! For MONTHS the airlines have been asking for volunteers only on my flights TO my interviews. I could never volunteer until now! Well, I jumped up and headed for the podium . . . and then stood in a line that I swear hardly moved. I took nearly 20 minutes to get to the agent and I told her I would volunteer. She looked at my final destination and said the only other flight I could get home wouldn't be until 9:30pm and wondered if that would be okay. I asked if I could have a food voucher and BAM! the conversation was over. She said she didn't need me to volunteer, thanks anyway. Excuse me? Because I asked to be fed at the airport? I didn't even get a chance to tell her I didn't NEED the voucher, that I would be happy with just the ticket! SIGH. And so my day had begun.

We finally boarded the plane and were off for O'Hare. The flight was packed but at least I was by the window. I napped a little and just before we started to land I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me. I asked her if she was coming or going and she said, with no self-pity or bitterness, she was off for her second round of chemo to deal with her final stage cancer. Well, that certainly puts my problems into perspective, doesn't it? We chatted pleasantly until we landed and as we de-planed I wished her luck.

I then found my way to my new gate and was determined to be grateful for my day.

That lasted until we boarded (late, of course).

As we were walking to our plane (a very small commuter jet), I see ahead of me a very obese woman struggling to climb the stairs to the plane. And in that moment I knew I was seated beside her.

Sure enough, I had the window seat next to her (did I mention it was a very small commuter jet?). As every flight I'd been on thus far had been oversold, I sat down. When she sat down beside me, she took up at least half of MY seat too. Now, forgive me, I am not judging her for her health issues, but COME ON! Wasn't there a time when airlines were making obese people pay for two seats because they USE two seats? I was MISERABLE. I am not a claustrophobic, but I was rapidly becoming one.

As the plane filled up, I noticed nobody was sitting in the row in front of me (an exit row at that!) so I asked the flight attendant if I could move. She said yes (praise God!) and I leaped up and practically over the seats. When I sat down, there was a suitcase stashed below the seats in front of me taking up nearly ALL the legroom. HUH? But nobody else was sitting there! So I asked the attendant and a young man in the row AHEAD of me said it was his. The flight attendant suddenly vanished in thin air as I asked him if he could store it overhead. He said it didn't fit. Okay then, store it in front of YOU. Again, it didn't fit! EXCUSE ME????? He then offers to switch places with me. HELL NO. I moved his damn bag and told him in the future he should get it tagged and placed in baggage 'cause that's how you carry on your oversize bags on a commuter flight.

Yes, it was clear I starting to lose it.

So we wait and wait and wait and FINALLY we leave the gate for take off. The captain announces we are third in line - yippee! We start moving and I think, "thank heavens," until we don't pick up speed or take off at all. I look out the window and, voila!, we are back at the damn gate.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. This is NOT happening to me. This is NOT possible.

"Ladies and Gentleman, we have returned to the gate for some BAGS that did not get placed on board."

Now, I nearly shouted a stream of obscenities when it dawned on me one of those bags could be MINE. So I just keep SIGHING audibly until we, nearly 45 minutes later, were taxiing to the runway again.

We finally take off when the large woman behind me shifts positions and suddenly her knee is in my back. Just get me home . . . just get me home before I KILL somebody with my bare hands.

Fortunately, it's a short flight and we were on the ground before my back was bruised.

Now, my local airport is TINY. So, you wouldn't think getting your baggage would take long, would you? Ho ho ho . . . how wrong you are. I had to wait freakin' 45 minutes for my damn bag! And guess who I ran into at baggage claim? Mr. I Need to Carry On this Bag to Make Your Life Miserable was WAITING for another bag! What? You couldn't check TWO? It's still free idiot!

When I finally got my bag, I booked it out of that damn airport, into the STILL freakin' freezing cold, got into my car, and drove off. I just needed to get home.

And walking into my door to my fabulous critters was just what the doctor ordered. I took care of them, fixed my dinner, and was beginning to find my patience and humor again in a glass of wine when there was a knock on my door.

I opened the door to three strangers who identified themselves as my back neighbors. Okay. They then asked me, none too nicely, if I had a yellow cat. Yes. Well, apparently they feed the squirrels and bunnies and my cat has been killing them. Um, yes, okay, I believe that, he's a CAT. Well, what was I going to do about that? I told them I was leaving in about a month - for GOOD. It clearly wasn't good enough and they harped on me claiming all sorts of ridiculous things (like the man of the family has cat allergies and gardens outside - if you keep a garden, why are you feeding the bunnies? AND my cat isn't the ONLY loose cat in the neighborhood so take your stupid Zyrtec and call it even) and now I need to CONTAIN naughty Henry in my house for the next 7 weeks. I can tell you this right now, it's not going to happen. But their visit was the final straw.

As soon as the door closed on them, I burst out crying. I HATE THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE.

SIGH.

Yes, I am jet lagged. I never found my sense of humor or patience last night and it spilled over into my day today. But the Fight Guy and I are meeting for Martini Monday downtown and I'm hoping I find them in a drink there.

If not, I can console myself with the following:

I'm DRIVING to my next interview. :)