Rants and Ramblings: random commentary about culture, media, politics, technology and whatnot.

here comes the rain again

My trip to Seattle got off to a somewhat inauspicious start.

First, there was the weather forecast: Rain, all week.

Then, last night, we discovered that my car had a flat. And then the spare was flat, prompting a trip through two local gas stations to find a working air compressor to inflate the tire.

Because it was unlikely that we'd be able to get a new tire before I had to leave for Dulles for my flight, I decided to take the Metro to West Falls Church and then take the Washington Flyer bus to the airport. The Metro gods did not shine upon me, however, and my train to WFC was late: I arrived just in time to see the gray bus drive away.

Worried about whether or not I could afford, time-wise, to risk waiting for the next bus, I decided to take a cab instead. Easy enough (if pricey), and the driver even accepted my credit card.

I arrived to find an insanely long line snaked in front of the United counter. Most frustrating of all: The decidedly inefficient use of ticket counter space. There were as many terminals open for First and Business Class passengers as there were for domestic economy passengers -- but the domestic economy passengers outnumbered the "premium" set by at least 10:1. Plus, there were ticket kiosks in the domestic economy section that weren't even active. After more than 30 minutes in line, I finally got my boarding pass just minutes before the 45-minute pre-flight deadline for checking in baggage.

And then there was security. Getting up to the scanner was a breeze. But, to the growing exasperation of the passengers behind me, I had to walk through the scanner a good four or five times, my hair clip and rings apparently setting it off.

And finally ... the flight itself.

I should preface this by saying that I've never thrown up before on an airplane, rollercoaster or amusement park ride.

Aside from being incredibly long, the flight from Dulles to Seattle was fairly uneventful -- until the very end. As we made our descent into the Seattle airport, we hit the worst patch of turbulence I've ever been through (one jolt in particular would have knocked me out of my seat if I hadn't been buckled in already).

I have a curious reaction sometimes to pain -- or the suggestion thereof -- in that I'm fine at first, and then I start feeling faint and, at the worst, nauseous. Maybe it's adrenaline. Maybe it's an overactive imagination. (Each jolt of turbulence had me mentally picturing our plane taking a nosedive.) Taking calm, deep breaths, I kept it mostly at bay until we actually landed ... and then it really hit me.

I quickly rifled through my seatfront pocket in search of an air sickness bag. No dice. I asked my seatmate, who in turn asked the man to his left and other passengers around us. Just as I couldn't hold it in any longer, he somehow magically turned up a bag. I missed the bag, instead emptying the contents of my stomach mostly onto my lap.

Weak and mortified (yet, physically, feeling a little bit better), I pressed the button to signal a flight attendant. Passengers had already started standing in the aisles to offload baggage from the overhead compartments, a flight attendant shouted across several rows of people to me.

"I can't get to you right now. What do you need?"

"I just threw up."

"What do you need?"

"Can I use the restroom?"

"There are people in the aisles with their baggage right now. I'm sure you could get through if they're willing to step aside for a moment."

The people blocking the aisle suddenly cleared a path for me. Head down, I quickly darted to the restroom to clean myself up. When I was done, I asked the flight attendants in the rear galley for a glass of water. One of them handed me a plastic cupful, as well as a can of ginger ale.

As I waited for the other passengers to disembark to I could get my carry-on bags, another passenger sympathetically asked me if I was feeling any better. "I wanted to do the same thing myself," she said.

Off the plane, I walked with increasing self-consciousness through the airport to baggage claim, trying to keep my distance from other people. Where ever I went, I noticed that people would wrinkle their noses and sniff with distaste. I tapped my feet impatiently as I waited for my bag to come through on the conveyor belt. When it finally arrived, I made a beeline for the nearest restroom to change out of my stinky jeans. Yick. I couldn't wait to get to my hotel and jump in the shower.