To finish the trip planning, I also booked the train to and from Toronto from the train station at Flusherville Junction, which is just down from Flusherville, where the Flusherville Regional Aerodrome is.
A few days before my trip, the WestJet pilots came out and said they wouldn't disrupt flights until after the weekend of the 19th, so it looked like I was good to go. And so I went!
As I'm writing this post, I decide to switch to first person. It seems more intimate, and I can share what I'm thinking at the time without it sounding so clumsy.
Packing goes well - I'm zipped up and ready ten days before departure. I even have the Little Giant Coffee Machine safely stowed, along with a hard foil-wrapped brick of ground coffee. That should give the security peeps some fun!
Twenty-four hours ahead of go time, I check in online. It feels weird to check in on two different flights going to the same place. I even upgrade my Rouge seat to an Air Canada Rouge Marginally Better Plus seat.
Mrs. Flusher drops me at the train around just before noon and I'm off. It's a pretty blustery day, and during the ride it gets downright foggy out. Like really, really foggy. In the back of my mind I think that fog could prevent me from flying...
There aren't many pretty pictures to take, so instead I take a shitty one of the escape hatch emergency hammer. I feel it calling me, calling me in an incredibly obscure popular culture reference.... "Horshack..." it says, "Hit. Me...."
But, I'm too legit, too legit to hit, and I manage to keep my hands under my thighs and leave the eMergen C Hammer alone.
The train arrives on time, and I grab the Union Pearson Express to the airport with about 4 seconds to spare. What's cool is I don't know it until I sit down and the doors pretty much immediately close. Hurry-free hurrying!
The 25 minute ride from downtown Toronto to the Airport goes quickly - it only seems like 25 minutes.
Security isn't very busy and the only trouble I have is some pointed questions about what might be in my carry-on luggage that caused the x-ray belt to go back and forth 100 times.
"It'll be my pound of foil-wrapped Little Giant coffee," I explain, opening the suitcase and showing it to them, right on top of my clothes. I knew this would happen. I don't mention the other 12 pounds of foil-wrapped coffee taped to my body under my shirt, just below my heart, which is beating at 110 dB.
But I foil 'em again. Yeah, I foiled those bastards again. And I'm through, free, alive, with coffee intact, and without any jail time in a Turkish prison. There's a ton of time to kill before my flight, so I'm very relaxed.
The WestJet pilots have said they won't take any action until the Canadian long weekend is over. That means I'm good to go.
With about three hours to go before my flight, I go ahead and cancel the Air FU Canada ticket. Because of 'system problems' they can't immediately refund the additional seat upgrade I paid for at check in. In all, it takes over half an hour to cancel the ticket. Once upon a time a guy with a pencil would put a line through your name and that would be that.
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| WestJet pilots have no beef compared to these guys. Look how hard they work! |
I express my dismay in colorful language. I admit it was my mistake. I ordered the wrong sausage.
The poutine Sheila takes pity on me and makes me a small poutine to put the sausage on. She doesn't even charge me. Maybe it's because I'm Number One?!
Either the Big Sausage is a Big Mistake, or I picked up a bit of a bug just before leaving, but my innards will ache, grumble, and blow for the next seven days. Mrs. F. mentions she had similar issues, and she is not Number One - I am. I will not make any Number Two jokes. Because mature.
I've scored a great seat on my WestJet flight - 5F. And I have a scrawny woman next to me, which makes it easy to hog the armrest. Finally I'm on my way to Vegas for real, and I have a drink and relax.
We arrive on time and I'm out of the plane like a shot. I pause only to snap the obligatory ritual photo.
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| Welcome to Fabulous Clark County McCarran International Airport Las Vegas! |
Finally I'm on my way and the driver agrees to take Swenson to Paradise. Unfortunately, I'm fucking around on my phone and don't notice that she's missed the left turn onto Harmon to pick up Paradise and we stay on Swenson, and thus get a nice tour of the city, including views of the back side of the WestGate.
She's very unsure of her bearings, so I jump in. I get her going east on Karen, and navigate her into the Plaza. She's a good driver, careful, and defensive. I ask how long she's been driving. She answers "Here? Four months."
Astounding. She gets a big compliment from me ('for a girl, you learn fast') and a huge tip (double the usual $1).
I immediately rewrite the previous sentence. She gets a big compliment from me ('you are an excellent driver - well done') and a $5 tip.
I'm finally at the Plaza, and my next actions jeopardize my entire trip karma before it even starts.
It's time to play... Match the Incredibly Obscure Popular Cultural Reference to the Obscure Cultural Artifact!
| Obscure References | Artifacts |
|---|---|
| a) "Horshack..." it says, "Hit. Me...." | 1) Throw Momma From the Train |
| b) But, I'm too legit, too legit to hit, and I manage to keep my hands under my thighs and leave the eMergen C Hammer alone. | 2) Midnight Express |
| c) I don't mention the other 12 pounds of foil-wrapped coffee taped to my body under my shirt, just above my heart, which is beating at 110 dB. | 3) |
| d) But I foil 'em again. Yeah, I foiled those bastards again. | 4) Welcome Back Kotter (the episode where Horshack eats a knish). |
I.O.P.C.R. to the O.C.A.
ReplyDeletea) = 4); b) = 3); c) = 2); d) = 1)