gwyn | Well... here I am

Finally in Chicago, where they tell me it's 1:30 a.m. but to me it's a mere 11:30 p.m. Still, I'm pretty tired. It was stressful trying to get everything done before Shuttle Express picked me up in the afternoon. I'm really worried about the new plants in the garden; I soaked them as much as i could but five days without water... my neighbor said she'd take care of them, and then told me she was going to Vegas when it was too late to find someone. Gee, thanks. It's supposed to stay dry there while I'm gone.

I'm used to frying alive here in the heat and humidity, but it was a lovely evening when I finally got to the bus station area -- I'd taken a massive wrong turn and ended up in the international terminal. You know why I hate O'Hare airport? Because O'Hare hates me. This fucking place always does something to me. Everything was closed and I was so, so hungry. Once I checked in I went down to the lobby and bought a very expensive power bar. I think the thing I hate so much about this utter sham of security theatre in this country (among the many things I despise) is that it forces you to buy food and beverages at the airport or related places, which are grotesquely overpriced and bad. I'm willing to pay more for a Starbucks, but they've taken that away from the D terminal at Sea-Tac, the rat bastards.

Anyway. I got my reservation months ago, and I always book early because I'm obsessive about having an aisle seat. I'm nearly six feet, I have a bad back injury, and my ankle ligaments are a mess. An aisle seat is imperative for me. I was watching these people come in, and it looked like they were going to sit in my row, a youngish guy and what I thought must be his son. He put the suitcase in wheels back, instead of wheels front as they had just been asking people to make sure to do, and then when he felt that didn't fit to his satisfaction, he turned it sideways. That's always a sign of a moron traveler; we had a full flight and they'd been asking people to volunteer to gate check their bags. So he confabs with an older woman, and they eventually take their seats and then older woman asks me, with some kind of accent but in excellent English, if I would take her seat so she could sit with her family. I asked her where she was sitting and it was the middle seat across the aisle.

I said as nicely as I could, "I'd really rather not give up my aisle seat." And she looks down on me and says in this fakey motherly sweet voice, "OK, have a nice trip with my sons." I didn't know whether to laugh or say "bite me." The two men seemed to be in great consternation about this. What a bitch I must be! How can they fly for four hours seated next to such a selfish and rude cow! She continued to talk on the phone for the entire boarding period, and at one point, she corralled a flight attendant to explain how it was that she could have been separated from her precioso sons. The attendant was like "..." I thought to myself, maybe when you made your reservations you should have looked at your damn seat assignments. Or made them earlier.

Anyway. Just as we were leaving the gate, the attendant came to me and I was filled with dread that she was going to pressure me to give up my seat. But she asked if I'd be OK with taking the aisle seat in one of the exit rows. I was like Hell yeah! I never get to sit in the exit rows, and I love it. Leg room.The last time I got to was when my friend who's like an MVP gold member flyer made my reservation with his miles so I could got to chemo with my sister. And I was so freaking sick the whole way I couldn't even really enjoy it, although I think it saved my life.

And after moving, they kept asking me if I wanted free wine or something for being willing to switch seats. I kept thinking, "Obviously you don't know what a selfish cow I really am because I wasn't willing to switch before." I've swapped seats before with people plenty of times, but it's always been a straight swap; I felt bad for the lady but I feel worse for myself, knowing how much pain flying causes me physically. So yeah, now you know the truth about me, I'm a vicious misanthrope who separates old ladies from her beautiful boys. Feh.

Then I was all miss high maintenance checking in to the hotel. They gave me the only single room they still had, on the 9th freaking floor, right by the elevators and I was so unhappy. I was hoping to be able to get to the con activities with more ease using the stairs (it's on the second floor), but the room isn't bad, so I guess I'll keep it. Or swap, I'll see tomorrow. But after making the poor sweet night desk guy miserable, I went down for the aforementioned Odwalla bar, and we had a nice conversation about the convention, and rooming in hotels (he has trouble sleeping in them, too), and that sort of thing.

So I guess the moral of this day has been that even though on the surface I'm a heartless, cold, selfish witch, I can be nice if I'm properly appeased? I don't know. Time for bed, and then seeing my fellow congoers, and tomorrow night OMG I'm going to meet

devilpiglet OMG. I am so excited.