Traveling Hiccups

I made a trip home to Florida this weekend to see my parents and honestly, to just take a break. Florida is still the same; it's still warm, it's still beautiful (I was met with an astonishing sunset over the water on my first night back), and everyone still seems to move at a relaxed, and steady pace. But, while I could write forever about the trip itself, I have decided to limit this post to my travel yesterday evening.

I've done quite a bit of traveling over past couple of years and I've come to learn that the only thing you can predict about air travel is its unpredictability (big shocker, huh?). You can take all the precautions in the world-you can smash all your stuff in a small suitcase and carry-on in order to not deal with baggage claim, you can leave for the airport with plenty of time to try and avoid traffic, and you can even park in terminal parking in order to make both your departure and your arrival less stressful and less rushed, and things still might not turn out the way you wanted them to. You can still wind up in bumper-to-bumper traffic, you can still be met with the airport's version of Disney World while waiting for security, and your plane can still be delayed for hours for any number of reasons. So, as I've come to realize this, I've also tried to travel calmly even when things don't work out the way I planned. There's nothing I can do about it, really. That doesn't mean I'm not anxious as hell if my flight is delayed and I have a connecting flight to make, but luckily this time around I was graced with a non-stop flight, and so I didn't allow its delay to bother me much. I could have been stuck sleeping in a terminal in some strange city instead, so I realized I had it pretty good.

After hearing of my flight's delay, I resigned myself to the idea that I wouldn't be getting as much sleep as I would have preferred that night (lately a lot of my life revolves around the amount of sleep I expect to receive) and I calmly waited to board the plane.

After arriving in Dallas much later than expected, I found most of the airport deserted. I wished that I was meeting a friend or relative instead of having to lug my suitcase down the empty airport halls in search of a way to the correct terminal (where I had left my car several days before). But I still remained calm-ish. You would think that an empty airport would seem somewhat peaceful in contrast to its normal often over-crowded state bustling with travelers rushing from here to there. But honestly, it was somewhat eerie, somewhat spooky. The restaurants and stores were closed, bars were draped over the doors, and the lights seemed dimmer than usual.

I left my fellow travelers at their baggage claim, and made my way to the skylink at the upper level of the terminal. Having never really traveled through Dallas (I've only ever really arrived or departed from DFW), I wasn't aware of this skylink but had heard tell of the shuttle. This "tell" came in the form of advice from my father instructing me to use the safest mode of travel between terminals. I rode the escalator alone, boarded the shuttle alone, and walked to an exit alone. Every once in a while (thank goodness) I saw a passenger or two waiting on an early morning flight, or someone emptying a trashcan. I continued walking through the terminal from exit-to-exit trying to find one that was open. I had always thought of an airport as a place that was difficult to get into, not one that was difficult to get out of. I finally found one that was open, exited, and walked toward the parking garage.

I then proceeded to walk around the garage for about 30 minutes (no joke) looking for the car that I was sure was parked in terminal A, level E, and row 22. I could even picture the sign in my head. But as I walked around the garage, down one set of stairs and back up another, I couldn't even find level E, let alone find my car. I walked back toward the terminal (now on the level below and several gates down from where I had originated) and tried to find someone to ask. There was no one official in sight, and really, what did I expect to ask them? "Um, excuse me. Would you possibly be able to help me locate my car? It's black and I'm sure (well almost sure) that it is parked at this terminal. I could describe to you where it was parked." HAH!. Really, I guess I just wanted someone to be traipsing around this dimly lit parking garage with me instead of wandering around aimlessly alone. At this point, the calm persona that I adopted earlier in the evening had vanished and left in its place a much more panicked, tired, and lonely version of myself.

Eventually, after trying to re-trace my steps in my mind of when I parked the car in the first place, after crossing the entrance ramps to the terminal on foot, and after reaching another parking garage further down, I finally found level E and found my car at terminal A (yes that's right), level E (yes that's right) and row 33 (no, that's totally wrong). Apparently I should have written down exactly where my car was parked and for the future reference, probably should draw up a map of the garage in relation to the terminal, or at the very least leave myself a trail of bread crumbs or something. I mean, really.

But I made it back in one piece...my heart was beating a little faster than normal, and it was a little later than I had originally intended, but I was no worse for the wear.

Okay, that's it I guess. My experience wasn't bad...but it was certainly a mini-adventure. I hadn't written in a while...so I just thought I'd share. When I thought about writing about this last night, I envisioned a much shorter entry...but my blogging seems to be unpredictable as well. Either that, or I'm just long-winded.