Sometimes you wonder if it's worth having a shuttle service whisk you to and from the airport. With the traffic and construction we have 'round these parts, it was worth considering. A week before departure, I checked the pricing at nearby Park N Fly stations - pricey. Hotel back lots near the airport were full unless you wanted to park in the back alley of a few establishments. I'll pass. The DFW Remote Parking was unattainable - I could buy a yacht for those prices. So it was Blue Super Shuttle as the carrier of this luscious body. A private shuttle, oh excuse me - Private Sedan, would have been $198 for two - ONE WAY. Better be gold trim in those pleather seats For a shared van it was $143.32 Round Trip - trolls would ride for free.
Trolls. My beloved companions. Couldn't take all 392 of them so five would journey forth. Ittik, my side kick with the face of action and White hair, Red haired Izzy in her Parka and snow boots, Vyolette of Purple hair who won her spot playing Rock-Paper- Scissors, and The King and Queen of Trolldom - Azul and Ruby, gifts from a friend. These two HAD to go to Alaska - they were gifted for that purpose. How dare you ask if the trolls had luggage. Their quart sized baggie worked just fine holding various outfits and fit snugly in my carry on, which is where they ride. I do not trust checked baggage with so valuable a cargo.
Ittik and Izzy won the coin tosses for leading the way to The Great Alaskan Wilderness.
Let me tell you about Ittik - it's Kitti spelled backwards (duh). Outspoken as she is impatient. Her catch phrase is "What's yer praaaa-blem?" Notorious for kicking me in the shins, I made her give me a tiny pinky swear to refrain from bruising me. Her outspoken-ness I cannot control. I do have duct tape for her feet though.
Izzy mutters mantras. I had her checked for speech impediments since I thought she stuttered. What else can be said to that?
Vyolette loves to eat. I think she created the Five Second Rule for Fallen Foods. And she farts. Her Purple Belly Jewel glows when she's about to thicken the air.
Queen Ruby and King Azul. Stuck Up Little Spastics. Their passports failed to disclose that tidbit. Their attitude will disclose how often they are let outside our room. Mushrooms in Tamale Juice I flat out refused to pack with them. I also sent ahead to the Anchorage Visitors Bureau to locate an establishment that served this delicacy. Let's just say the 'Royal High-Asses' will be in our room more than they bargained for.
Then there is my human companion, my HusBob. This will be his first adventure to the State I have let my heart fall in love with. Already picked pieces of property in Girdwood and Hope. "If he knows what's good for him, he will at least try to like Alaska." (Ittik made me write that last line - I swear!) I've no problem roughing it in a little cabin in the woods with running water, a fireplace, kitchenette and an outhouse I can get to before the mosquitoes carry me away.
Now the fun part.
Absolute Frozen Vector - this is the code used on my FaceBook Page to let those in my close knit group know that it was getting close to vacation time. Hey I saw the commercial about announcing your plans on the web. I'm cute not stupid...'cept when a great pair of gluteal and posterior femoral(s) walk past me. Then I'm a gorgeous blubbering idiot.
Bringing back the gigantic suitcase I borrowed from our Hosts The Hog Family that I used on my return flight three years ago. Had to. I left with 104 Trolls and one carry on.
My Blog Groupies (Jana, Kodi and Rose) know it is my norm to pack and repack at least a dozen times before I leave. This time I'm sharing luggage with HusBob so I pack the day before. I know I'll forget something. Oh well, such is the game of Chance. All said and done HusBob will be lugging two checked and two carry on's. I'll handle the five Trolls.
Scheduled time of 12:35PM - so the Blue Super Shuttle informed us.
Printed boarding passes the day before so we're ready to go.
One thing about HusBob and I, we hate waiting.
Hate.
It.
The shuttle was to arrive at an agreed upon time of 12:35PM. They sent me two texts to confirm that fact. What they failed to do was tell the driver.
12:35PM
12:50PM
Hey, our flight leaves at 3:30 and it's an hour plus with traffic to the airport.
1:00PM
1:05. I'm waiting in the window like a dog waiting for it's master to return.
1:15. FINALLY. The Blue Super Slug.
As the blue van slinks by our house like a wounded animal I wave from the window to attract the driver. A fifty-ish man with an English accent, grey hair and soggy looking eyes slowly opens the back of the van as we help him toss our patiently waiting bags in cuz we are on a time schedule. Apparently he wasn't. Molasses in winter moved faster. Ittik was beside herself yelling, "What's yer praaaa-blem?" Izzy found a seat in back and began her mantra: "Time is not our friend - time is NOT our friend..."
I'm making light conversation as we inch our way down our street. Soggy Eyes tells us we have to go to North Garland then Richardson before we aim towards the airport. Lord send me some wings to put on the tires - me thinks we're going to miss our flight. On a normal day getting to North Garland takes thirty minutes, Richardson a good twenty.
This man and his GPS takes the back roads. 30-35MPH all the way. Grrr. Double damn grrr. We get to the Richardson folks first, Father and Grown Son - an hour behind schedule. Their flight leaves before ours and they are in a panic.
I don't panic yet.
There is still time.
Then I glance at the gas gauge.
Sitting on the left of "E". Empty.
Hazy Crisco - can it get any worse?
Me: "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."
The Shuttle Van: Putt-putt-putt...
Ittik: "What's yer praaaa-blem?"
Izzy: "Time is not our friend..."
HusBob: "Come on man!!"
Father: "We're gonna miss our flight!!"
Grown Son: "Out of our hands Dad."
Soggy Eyes: not a sound
The driver's phone rings, we think he's going to tell them he can't make it to Richardson if he is to get us to the airport on time. He's smiling. Maybe there are wings on the tires. Thank you Jesus. We hop on the freeway and I relax. The folks in front of us relax. Until we notice the driver is doing 60MPH instead of 70 MPH like the rest of the world. The guy in front of us is scooting in his chair trying to make the can go faster. I don't blame him. I'm doing the same thing. For what we paid for this so called "convenient transport" to the airport, this is working my nerves.
Dear Lawd, we are exiting the freeway in Carrollton. Grrrrrrrr. (Insert mileage
from A to R to C to DFW here). Still fifteen miles out. When we reach what we
hope is the last destination, the guy in front of us voices: "He's driving
sooooooooo slow! Our flight leaves in 45 minutes!" Dear Lord, grant us all traveling mercy. Amen.
Had more than a moment to ponder: If a shuttle service makes you miss your flight, do they pay for the next flight out or reimburse you for your ticket OR are we allowed to take 'x' amount of dollars out of his ass as payment?
The last stop, fingers crossed as we endure this torture, is a lady who was clearly unhappy. I asked (as I do everyone I meet) "How are you"? She says bluntly, "Very Late. They lost my luggage yesterday and I am two hours late getting to the airport to try and find it. I'm only twenty minutes from the airport as it is. This is just appalling." I stopped complaining. Her name was Sylvia. She pulled out a comb and mirror to pull herself back together. Dialed a number on her "old folks" cell phone to let her party know she was on her way. Lord, give Sylvia luggage grace. Amen.
Finally on our way to the airport. I'm still wondering why we aren't out of gas
yet. Two hours in, you can't get any farther to the left of "E". God's Grace or a hidden tank on the roof with a busted gauge - either way, thank goodness we are the first ones to be dropped off. I included the gratuity when I booked this ride, otherwise I would hurt Soggy Eye's feelings leaving a blank piece of paper in his hand.
Good luck and happy hunting fellow shuttle buddies.
It was under seven minutes from the time we left the Slow as Molasses Shuttle to
check our bags curbside with I can speak four languages The Jamaican Dude, walk through to the Gabby Gate Guy to scribble on our boarding passes, push our carry-ons through screening - with shoes on - and find our gate. No time for airport photos. Bummer - such interesting humans walking around me. So that leaves us twenty two minutes for potty break and pay for some expensive airport fodder, uh, food. Near our gate was Popeye's Fried Chicken. Where's the lady from the commercial? Oh well, we'll work with Popeye's mild flavored five-piece tender combo meal to share for $7.56 plus tax. Simply tasteless but hot. It will keep bellies from grumbling during the seven hour flight. I hate this because we normally go to Steak and Shake for our Vacation Start Up Meal. It would have been suicide to ask the shuttle to make that stop. "I'm buying - Malts, Burgers and Beans for everyone!"
But wait - The Royals, Azul and Ruby packed Hot Tamales candy and Ittik packed a bag of Pork Skins! In Flight Snacks!!! All is not lost. Didn't have time for a final smoke - I'll suffer through with the leftover residual in my bloodstream. All is not lost, all is not lost.
Trolls. My beloved companions. Couldn't take all 392 of them so five would journey forth. Ittik, my side kick with the face of action and White hair, Red haired Izzy in her Parka and snow boots, Vyolette of Purple hair who won her spot playing Rock-Paper- Scissors, and The King and Queen of Trolldom - Azul and Ruby, gifts from a friend. These two HAD to go to Alaska - they were gifted for that purpose. How dare you ask if the trolls had luggage. Their quart sized baggie worked just fine holding various outfits and fit snugly in my carry on, which is where they ride. I do not trust checked baggage with so valuable a cargo.
Ittik and Izzy won the coin tosses for leading the way to The Great Alaskan Wilderness.
Let me tell you about Ittik - it's Kitti spelled backwards (duh). Outspoken as she is impatient. Her catch phrase is "What's yer praaaa-blem?" Notorious for kicking me in the shins, I made her give me a tiny pinky swear to refrain from bruising me. Her outspoken-ness I cannot control. I do have duct tape for her feet though.
Izzy mutters mantras. I had her checked for speech impediments since I thought she stuttered. What else can be said to that?
Vyolette loves to eat. I think she created the Five Second Rule for Fallen Foods. And she farts. Her Purple Belly Jewel glows when she's about to thicken the air.
Queen Ruby and King Azul. Stuck Up Little Spastics. Their passports failed to disclose that tidbit. Their attitude will disclose how often they are let outside our room. Mushrooms in Tamale Juice I flat out refused to pack with them. I also sent ahead to the Anchorage Visitors Bureau to locate an establishment that served this delicacy. Let's just say the 'Royal High-Asses' will be in our room more than they bargained for.
Then there is my human companion, my HusBob. This will be his first adventure to the State I have let my heart fall in love with. Already picked pieces of property in Girdwood and Hope. "If he knows what's good for him, he will at least try to like Alaska." (Ittik made me write that last line - I swear!) I've no problem roughing it in a little cabin in the woods with running water, a fireplace, kitchenette and an outhouse I can get to before the mosquitoes carry me away.
Now the fun part.
Absolute Frozen Vector - this is the code used on my FaceBook Page to let those in my close knit group know that it was getting close to vacation time. Hey I saw the commercial about announcing your plans on the web. I'm cute not stupid...'cept when a great pair of gluteal and posterior femoral(s) walk past me. Then I'm a gorgeous blubbering idiot.
Bringing back the gigantic suitcase I borrowed from our Hosts The Hog Family that I used on my return flight three years ago. Had to. I left with 104 Trolls and one carry on.
My Blog Groupies (Jana, Kodi and Rose) know it is my norm to pack and repack at least a dozen times before I leave. This time I'm sharing luggage with HusBob so I pack the day before. I know I'll forget something. Oh well, such is the game of Chance. All said and done HusBob will be lugging two checked and two carry on's. I'll handle the five Trolls.
Scheduled time of 12:35PM - so the Blue Super Shuttle informed us.
Printed boarding passes the day before so we're ready to go.
One thing about HusBob and I, we hate waiting.
Hate.
It.
The shuttle was to arrive at an agreed upon time of 12:35PM. They sent me two texts to confirm that fact. What they failed to do was tell the driver.
12:35PM
12:50PM
Hey, our flight leaves at 3:30 and it's an hour plus with traffic to the airport.
1:00PM
1:05. I'm waiting in the window like a dog waiting for it's master to return.
1:15. FINALLY. The Blue Super Slug.
As the blue van slinks by our house like a wounded animal I wave from the window to attract the driver. A fifty-ish man with an English accent, grey hair and soggy looking eyes slowly opens the back of the van as we help him toss our patiently waiting bags in cuz we are on a time schedule. Apparently he wasn't. Molasses in winter moved faster. Ittik was beside herself yelling, "What's yer praaaa-blem?" Izzy found a seat in back and began her mantra: "Time is not our friend - time is NOT our friend..."
I'm making light conversation as we inch our way down our street. Soggy Eyes tells us we have to go to North Garland then Richardson before we aim towards the airport. Lord send me some wings to put on the tires - me thinks we're going to miss our flight. On a normal day getting to North Garland takes thirty minutes, Richardson a good twenty.
This man and his GPS takes the back roads. 30-35MPH all the way. Grrr. Double damn grrr. We get to the Richardson folks first, Father and Grown Son - an hour behind schedule. Their flight leaves before ours and they are in a panic.
I don't panic yet.
There is still time.
Then I glance at the gas gauge.
Sitting on the left of "E". Empty.
Hazy Crisco - can it get any worse?
Me: "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."
The Shuttle Van: Putt-putt-putt...
Ittik: "What's yer praaaa-blem?"
Izzy: "Time is not our friend..."
HusBob: "Come on man!!"
Father: "We're gonna miss our flight!!"
Grown Son: "Out of our hands Dad."
Soggy Eyes: not a sound
The driver's phone rings, we think he's going to tell them he can't make it to Richardson if he is to get us to the airport on time. He's smiling. Maybe there are wings on the tires. Thank you Jesus. We hop on the freeway and I relax. The folks in front of us relax. Until we notice the driver is doing 60MPH instead of 70 MPH like the rest of the world. The guy in front of us is scooting in his chair trying to make the can go faster. I don't blame him. I'm doing the same thing. For what we paid for this so called "convenient transport" to the airport, this is working my nerves.
Dear Lawd, we are exiting the freeway in Carrollton. Grrrrrrrr. (Insert mileage
from A to R to C to DFW here). Still fifteen miles out. When we reach what we
hope is the last destination, the guy in front of us voices: "He's driving
sooooooooo slow! Our flight leaves in 45 minutes!" Dear Lord, grant us all traveling mercy. Amen.
Had more than a moment to ponder: If a shuttle service makes you miss your flight, do they pay for the next flight out or reimburse you for your ticket OR are we allowed to take 'x' amount of dollars out of his ass as payment?
The last stop, fingers crossed as we endure this torture, is a lady who was clearly unhappy. I asked (as I do everyone I meet) "How are you"? She says bluntly, "Very Late. They lost my luggage yesterday and I am two hours late getting to the airport to try and find it. I'm only twenty minutes from the airport as it is. This is just appalling." I stopped complaining. Her name was Sylvia. She pulled out a comb and mirror to pull herself back together. Dialed a number on her "old folks" cell phone to let her party know she was on her way. Lord, give Sylvia luggage grace. Amen.
Finally on our way to the airport. I'm still wondering why we aren't out of gas
yet. Two hours in, you can't get any farther to the left of "E". God's Grace or a hidden tank on the roof with a busted gauge - either way, thank goodness we are the first ones to be dropped off. I included the gratuity when I booked this ride, otherwise I would hurt Soggy Eye's feelings leaving a blank piece of paper in his hand.
Good luck and happy hunting fellow shuttle buddies.
It was under seven minutes from the time we left the Slow as Molasses Shuttle to
check our bags curbside with I can speak four languages The Jamaican Dude, walk through to the Gabby Gate Guy to scribble on our boarding passes, push our carry-ons through screening - with shoes on - and find our gate. No time for airport photos. Bummer - such interesting humans walking around me. So that leaves us twenty two minutes for potty break and pay for some expensive airport fodder, uh, food. Near our gate was Popeye's Fried Chicken. Where's the lady from the commercial? Oh well, we'll work with Popeye's mild flavored five-piece tender combo meal to share for $7.56 plus tax. Simply tasteless but hot. It will keep bellies from grumbling during the seven hour flight. I hate this because we normally go to Steak and Shake for our Vacation Start Up Meal. It would have been suicide to ask the shuttle to make that stop. "I'm buying - Malts, Burgers and Beans for everyone!"
But wait - The Royals, Azul and Ruby packed Hot Tamales candy and Ittik packed a bag of Pork Skins! In Flight Snacks!!! All is not lost. Didn't have time for a final smoke - I'll suffer through with the leftover residual in my bloodstream. All is not lost, all is not lost.
Next installment: The Plane Ride and The Hog Family