Training Trip

My trip out to Tulsa, OK was fairly uneventful. I did managed to get lost once I got there. I had rented a car, and I was looking for  the street the hotel was on, but it was on a tiny side street and because of the topography of the region, it wasn't visible from the road, but I eventually found it. Speaking of the topography, I don't like driving in hills. You have very poor visibility and you have to fight the car to slow down or speed up. I rented a Chevy Cobalt which I'm pretty sure is the spiritual successor to my Dad's old Chevette.

The training went well. The most important part was just reminding myself I can really do this programming stuff even outside the DSL (Domain Specific Language) of the Logistics company I used to work for. Tulsa is a smaller town than Charleston, having only about 250,000 people compared to over 600,000 for Charleston. I got to see a little of town and thought it was pretty nice. On the second night, we went to dinner at a little hole in the wall restaurant that was on the old famous Route 66. Everyone in Tulsa calls Soda, Pop. I haven't heard it called Pop in ages.

The trip back was a little more interesting. I got to the airport early because I was worried about traffic, but made it in plenty of time. Only when I got there, I found the plane was delayed 3 hours. We were directed to go to the nearest Delta counter and get rerouted. I found the counter at the gate I was at. They were boarding a plane for Memphis. I realized they were busy and patiently waited. The lady at the gate instructed me to go to the ticket counter, but I would have to go through security again. I balked and she took care of me right there. The plane leaving for Memphis basically right then, so they put me on that. I was to catch a plane from Memphis to Atlanta and then back home. When I got to Memphis, I had a two hour layover and it was going to make for a very tight window to get on the plane to Charleston. I would have only 45 minutes. Now that might sound like plenty of time, but in Atlanta, it really isn't. I tried to get Delta to move me to an earlier flight, but the lady at the counter. She said she could, but only if I paid a $50 change fee.

I protested. It was Delta's plane that broke down and put me in this predicament. I wasn't even supposed to BE in Memphis! I shouldn't be force to pay because Delta's plane broke down. I was upset and made my case as best I could, but ultimately to no avail. Since I was in Memphis, I figured I should get some Memphis Bar-b-que. It can't hold a candle to some good old fashioned Melvins, at least in my book.

I waited the requisite time and boarded the plane to Atlanta. It was actually an Air France plane worked by a crew from Haiti. At this point, I was really concerned about the flight from Atlanta to Charleston. Basically, if I didn't make my connection, I would be stuck in Atlanta all night. Not exactly a happy thought. Luck was on my side, and the gates for arriving flight and the plane I needed we in the same concourse. I ran quickly through the terminal and got to the gate with time to spare.

One of the observations I made on the trip was that First Class even has their own line at the gate with Delta. I guess the bourgeois can't be made the rub elbows with the plebs even in line.

The most amazing thing of the whole trip was that when I landed in Charleston, my luggage was there waiting for me. I don't how Delta didn't lose it with all the rerouting, but they didn't. I was very happy to be home and back with my family.