Last Friday Seems Like Yesterday
This week has been a hurried week, going by so fast that I feel a little bit of whiplash. When I opened my eyes today at five before 8am (ah! Just in time to get to work!), I immediately started to think about last Friday. At this time last Friday, I was at Detroit Metropolitan’s McNamara Terminal, waiting to depart to Blankety-Blank to visit my boyfriend and interview for a position. It’s been hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that it’s already been a week since that whirlwind day. Friday, January 13, kicked off probably the fastest week in my life.
I awoke last Friday at 5am, was dressed by 6am, and was at the airport by 7:45am. I checked in for my afternoon flight, then proceeded to haul ass through security and find an NWA agent in the terminal to put me on stand-by for an earlier flight. This trip to Blankety-Blank had been planned well in advance (right after Thanksgiving), so it was good fortune that I got an interview for the same day of my arrival. I debated, heavily, as to whether to switch my ticket for $100, pay the Same Day fee of $25 when I got to the airport to switch over my ticket, or simply fly stand-by. There was the security of changing my ticket and knowing I’d be in Blankety-Blank on time; there was the uncertainty of maybe getting a seat in one of the two flights departing for Blankety-Blank earlier than my original ticket. Taking a deep breath, and keeping an eye on the seats the week leading up to my departure, I went with stand-by. Part of me thought I was taking a huge risk, especially on Friday the 13 (I know, I know), but settled on it anyway.
As soon as I found an agent at McNamara, I was placed on stand-by, with the agent telling me “It’s just a formality you’re on stand-by–when the agent opens up the desk for your flight, go to that person and they’ll assign you a seat.” Wonderful! After that point, I relaxed considerably, buying a cup of coffee and an unfortunately dry and hard bagel from a place that wasn’t Starbucks (that was too far down the terminal on either side of me, and I’m notoriously lazy when I want to be). I sat down to read The Last Days of Henry VIII, drink my coffee, and gnaw at my raisin bagel. At around 8:45ish, I headed over to my gate area and waited for an agent. She arrived soon, assigning me a seat right away. Needing a bit more caffeine, I bought myself a Diet Mountain Dew, then read a bit more before the plane started boarding. There was delay in boarding, but within 10 minutes of that announcement, I was on the plane. Unfortunately, I had left my book in my carry-on and it was now in the overhead compartment, so I had to settle for listening to music and flipping through NWA catalogs and magazines for the hour-long flight, but at least I was on the plane. The only thing that annoyed me as I sat on the plane, waiting for everyone to board, was one woman who looked a lot like Project Runway’s Lupe Vidal. She kept on seat-hopping, and since she wanted a window, she kept on making people from the same two rows get up to let her in or out various times. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t stay in her assigned seat. She ended up staying in her original seat when the people whose seat she tried to take boarded the place. She was, given her loud voice, ridiculous seat-switching, and braying laughter, quite annoying. But if that was the worst of it, what the hell. Part one of getting to Blankety-Blank on time accomplished!
Not so fast.
We had about an hour delay as conditions in Blankety-Blank backed up our departure. There was no harm in a small delay such as this; the only thing I might miss would be lunch with my boyfriend and a friend of his. The interview, it was secure. I called my boyfriend at his office, let him know about the delay and promised to call as soon as I landed, then settled back to look at the weird stuff they sell in the Skymall magazine. The plane departed about an hour later.
When the plane landed in Blankety-Blank, I waited for the seatbelt sign to be turned off and bolted out of my seat as soon as it did. I am the mistress of getting into the aisle as soon as that light goes off–if I were a drag racer, my reaction times might be stellar, I tell you! I tugged and pulled at my heavy carry-on (I don’t know why it was so heavy, honestly), got it into the aisle, then charged out of the plane at the first opportunity that I got (after calling the boyfriend and leaving a message–I assumed he was in a meeting). Sometimes, the Mistress of Leaving the Plane is generous and lets others go before her. This time, said Mistress was not so generous, and I’m not sure why–at this point, I was not going to be late for my interview.
Clad in my Banana Republic skirt and jacket, walking briskly through the terminal, I headed towards public transportation in the direction of my boyfriend’s office. Dragging along my bag, readjusting my purse, it was then that someone sidled up next to me and uttered the immeasurably contemptible, “Hey, baby!” Seriously, in the half-second that I turned to give this guy a piece of my mind, a million things went through my head, like: What, are we in Mexico all of a sudden? Who the fuck does this guy think he is, coming up to a woman like that in an airport? He must be drunk. This kind of treatment is the last thing I need today! I am going to tell him that my boyfriend will kick his ass.
Heh. It was my boyfriend. Aww, he’s so sweet! I really wasn’t expecting him given that he was supposed to be working. He says that the look on my face was classic, and could see that I really was about to tear him a new one. I laughingly told him that I was about to threaten him with him, and he later commented that the fight would be an evenly matched one.
We headed over to public transportation, then made our way into Blankety-Blank to meet his friend for lunch–we were just in time for the planned time of 1:30pm. We had lunch at Cosi, chatted a while, then started towards my boyfriend’s office. By this time, it was bordering on 3pm, and part of me just though I should head immediately to my interview site just in case. Apparently, my boyfriend was thinking the same thing, because he decided to forget about the office visit and took me to a station instead. Wishing me luck, he left me at the station, dragging my bag and considerable mail of his own back to his office. It was such a warm day that I did not envy him that task.
And so, onto the interview site! I arrived 15 minutes early and waited in the lobby for my interviewers to arrive. At a few minutes to 4pm, I was ushered into a conference room and was talked to and talked for nearly two hours. I would say the interview went fairly well, and I’m hoping beyond hope that I get a call with good news soon. I’m in the running for another job, but I’m really not sure, given time and distance, how much the other place remembers me as a candidate. However, I would say, for this job, a two-hour long interview on a Friday evening is a good sign . . . isn’t it?
After the interview, I headed back in my boyfriend’s direction. Right as I was coming up to his office, he gave me a call, wondering where I’d been. I told him that I was just outside of his office, that my interview had last a pretty long time. Like me, he thinks this is a good sign. Sure, it made us miss a bar night with his colleagues, but, as he told me, “There will be other bar nights.” After getting into his office, we dithered for a bit (I rested a second and used the restroom to freshen up), we walked over to a restaurant where we had an 7:15pm reservation. The food was very good, the wine was, as always, not my cup of tea, and the atmosphere was nice. However, the walk there seemed long–my boyfriend correctly noted the change in my stride. Yes, my heels were killing me after wearing them for more then 12 hours. But sitting at a table for a while gave me a chance to rest, and there we talked about my interview, offices, and other sundry things.
Dinner done, we picked up our things at his office, walked to another station, then headed to his apartment. Another mile-long walk awaited me, but that was okay. A shower, sleeping clothes, and a pillow awaited me! Once at his place, after a shower and a quick self-applied foot massage, we fell asleep. I did probably almost immediately.
Friday, January 13 was over, and the only thing that had gone seriously wrong was an hour delay on the plane. Let’s hope that the relative smoothness and ease of the day help propel me to Blankety-Blank . . . at least until the boyfriend and I become janitors in Grand Junction, CO, just so we can live by the Colorado National Monument.
