Getting to Florida

So this trip to Florida started out as a damn fuck-show. We pull into the parking ramp and as we are getting our bags out of the car A realizes she doesn’t have her license in her billfold. We pull all the cards and crap out of her wallet and have it strewn about the back of the car searching and searching again for something that isn’t there. I was surprisingly calm. What are you gonna do? Shit happens.

In a fluster we decide that I will take the kids and get checked in. (We were checked in but our seats are all over the plane so we wanted to see if we could get a couple together anyway.) A gets in the car and speeds home.

I take the kids into the terminal and then realize that A still has their boarding passes. Then I realize that I have no easy way to access their tickets to get new boarding passes because A has the credit card she booked the tickets with along with my credit card which she took to get out of the parking ramp.

As I am standing there slowly calculating my next move I look over and see this woman. She is immediately familiar and I do a double take. Now, A watches this show called “Millionaire Matchmaker.” I occasionally watch with her and on the most recent occasion there was this CRAZY woman millionaire looking for a man and now she is standing in front of me.

Here she is at the airport.

Here she is on the show. (Nice fake lips and too much Botox, bitch!)

It finally dawned on me that the only thing I could do was get in line to meet with a “ticket agent.” Oh, joy of joys. That fucking line was a million miles long. While in line I called Delta to see if they could rebook us on the good chance we would miss our flight. Although not surly they weren’t particularly bubbly either. I guess I won’t complain – at least I didn’t get verbally abused. Turns out if we didn’t make this flight we wouldn’t be able to leave until tomorrow night. “Kids. Start saying prayers.”

We get through the line and I’m pissing around with a kiosk at which I can get my information but nothing for A or the kids. Then my phone rings and it’s A. She is entering the parking ramp and I tell her which side to park on and which door we are closest to. I cancel out of our check-in and A comes down the escalator and we get together, get through security and run to the gate. (I walked quickly. A and the kids ran.)

Gate agents – Pissy. Can’t/won’t help get us seats together. “You’ll have to rely on the kindness of strangers.” Thanks very little for your customer service.

My darling children’s prayers were answered and although we aren’t sitting together, we are all on the flight. (Why didn’t I say a prayer? You should all know me well enough, I am piloting that rocketship to hell remember and god probably would hear my request and laugh and laugh and laugh.)

A is sitting in a middle seat next to a gargantuanely fat guy. You know, the guy who is so fat his lily-ass white, hairy, inevitably sweaty belly oozes over his belt and out from under his too small shirt. I am surrounded by babies. They’re cute and, for the most part, quiet, but a crying baby drives me up a wall. I know that sounds intolerant, but I don’t fault the parents or the kids. I remember being there. It ain’t easy traveling with little ones and, contrary to popular belief, they have minds of their own and don’t obey, like dogs. (I know, inconvenient, right?)

We made it to Fort Meyers and are off to get our rental car. As soon as I get off the plane I lose my cell signal. WTF!? I hate Florida and this is only making it worse. We go to rent a car and our credit card is declined. WTF!? I call "customer service" to find out what is going on and try to calmly inquire with A as to when she paid the bill. (It wasn't received well. I am assuming it was a combination of the situation and perhaps my delivery.) Turns out we are over our limit. So I start to question the "customer service" person about recent charges. (The thing is, we never use this credit card except for travel and special large purchases, so we are befuddled as to why we would be over our limit.) I get online and see that A has indeed paid the bill by BillPay, but it hasn't cleared yet. I tell the "customer service" person, and they suggest we do a phone payment, but it won't clear until Sunday (it's Friday night) so I tell him forget it. (Why would I pay the bill twice, you dope?)

Now, to rent a car we can use our debit card, which I checked and has plenty of funds, but we need a return itinerary so we have to go back to the ticket agent and get this, which takes way longer than it should. Finally, we get a car.

We open the door of our "non-smoking" car and it smells like a fricking ashtray. There, in the middle of the driver's seat, is a cigarette burn. God I hate Florida.

(While driving, A and I have a calm conversation about the credit card. Turns out we returned a huge purchase that has not been credited back to the card yet. Neither of us thought to check. Then we laughed because as we were getting in the car to get the kids out of school A had said, "I can't believe how smoothly this trip is going." She admitted it was the kiss of death.)