I sat on the runway in Southern California for about forty-five minutes this morning. I fell asleep, then woke up still on the ground. Forty-five minutes that would prove to cause me to miss my short flight from Atlanta to Nashville. Forty-five minutes that would force me to walk from Gate B19 to gate A33, which happens to be at the end of a different terminal. Once getting to gate A33 I was told that my flight to Nashville was still boarding but was boarding from gate T1, which happens to be at the very end of yet another terminal. By the time I made it there, the flight was gone and I had been booked at a flight at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. Huh.
“What about a hotel?”
“You can have one at a discounted rate, but Delta won’t pay for the whole thing.”
“How much is a discounted rate?”
“Not much of a discount. Shouldn’t Delta pay for more since it was, you know, their fault and all that I am here?”
“It’s not really Delta’s fault.”
“It’s not really Delta’s fault. Maybe the weather was bad. Delta can’t control the weather.”
“Well, the weather in Southern California was fine, how was it here?”
“It might have been raining.”
“Might have been? Was it raining when you came to work?”
“Can I leave now?”
So instead of hanging out in Gate A33 (that’s right, the gate I started in) for twelve and a half hours, Twitter came to the rescue. Thank you everyone that helped out bombarding Carlos’ phone with suggestions to rescue me, including you Daley.
So here I am, sitting on the Wittaker couch watching one of the Ocean movies, but haven’t been able to figure out which one. Beats the heck out of an airport floor. Thanks Carlos, and no thanks Delta. Eventually I will be home.
So, as it turns out we aren’t really in Atlanta as much as we are near Atlanta. And by near Atlanta I mean, a good drive away from Atlanta. I’m sorry if I have misled anyone. I hope you can forgive me. This is what happens when you don’t pay attention to anything when you are riding in a van.
Tonight these guys played a great show for a massive group of teenagers, and did it all with a busted website. Aren’t you impressed. I know I was. I faithfully watched their merchandise to make sure none of it wandered off without the correct compensation.
So, funny story. About halfway through the night I was sitting at the table in the empty room, some call a “foyer”, and some call an entrance because no one likes to say “foyer”, at the merch table waiting for something magical to happen, and this kid comes up and sits directly across from me on the other side of the table but about four feet back. He doesn’t say anything, but is staring right at me. I’m not a big “stare at me” kind of person. I get a little uncomfortable, and start to feel like I have something hanging from my nose or something like that.
I kept pretending to do important things on my computer, giving quick glances up to see this kid looking at me. He must have been twelve or so, because he was as awkward as I felt. I debated winking at him a few times to avert his stare, but thought that inappropriate.
I ended up just getting up and walking away. Maybe that isn’t a funny story. It’s late here, and there is snow at home.
I am headed out first thing in the morning with these hot rockstars. We are headed to Atlanta for a couple shows, some good hanging and to, well, actually meet.
So far I have only met Bush in person twice , and talked to Aaron once on the phone. We are also going to be doing some hanging with this guy. It’s like another blogging blind date, only this one takes it up a notch because we will be spending the night together. Does that come across weird to anyone else?
So anyway, between the group of us we should be able to come up with something to blog about. If not we will paint something on Bush’s face and take a picture of it.