ANNOUNCEMENTS:

1) The Almighty X AKA Xquizzyt1 interviewed the kid as part of her Blog Impersonations Week (or few weeks if you’re working on CP Time like she is), taking the Behind The Blog idea from Kajuana. Take a gander…my first interview. I’m famous beeeyotch!!!

2) Make sure you check back tomorrow as we here at Jackson G. Tickle Enterprises along with the A.N.D.Y. of The Royal Youngs are going to bring you something both provocative and entertaining…for that ass. Tomorrow…it goes down.

[***This segment will be much shorter than the last one...I think.***]

So as Part I left off, I had finally reached Boston for some hot fun in the summertime.

Except that’s a total lie since it got cold as shit and was rainy all weekend. I did enjoy myself so la di da.

If you remember the itinerary from yesterday, I was scheduled to leave out of Boston on Monday night at 830pm returning to the Baltimore-Washintgon International Airport at around 1143pm after a layover in Philadelphia.

Did my return travel go off without a hitch?? Did I manage to make it home at my scheduled time? Will Murder, Inc. go down at the hands of the feds? Will the Boondocks Comedy Central TV show be as good as the comic strip? All these questions and more answered, here on…Panama’s City.

And I’m really not going to answer the last two questions.

So, here’s what happened.

Monday

615pm: Me and my girl leave her house headed to the airport, Logan Airport, shaken, not stirred. She’s visibly distraught that I’m leaving considering that we were robbed of pretty much a day.

620pm: I point out a fireman rescuing a cat from a tree and she tells me that the cat should die since the weather robbed her of an additional day. She’s such a sweet girl.

620pm-650pm: On Boston’s T (subway). Really, I have no idea what the T stands for. All the times I’ve been there it’s never dawned on me to ask either. All I know is that the Green Line looks like my old toy train that I wrecked.

Let me backtrack a minute, I honestly half expected something else to go wrong considering how horrible my trip up to Boston was. After this weekend, I think I’m going to open up a new psychic hotline network on TV One, what with all the bootleg shitty programming they have, all they’re missing is a Miss Cleo knockoff.

Call Me Now!!!

650pm: We arrive at Logan Airport. We walk in Logan Airport. See Jane run. See Dick run. See Dick and Jane run.

655pm: I notice there seems to be a line for the US Airways terminal and people look pissed. I can’t confirm this, but I think I saw a young mother eat her kid. Not saying she was pissed, but she didn’t seem happy at all. Oh well, that has nothing to do with me.

657pm: I go stand in line to do the self check-in where I’m informed by a US Airways flight agent that a lot of flights are delayed (no surprise there) so I need to go talk to an agent. I hate agents by this point.

7pm: We go stand in line at the US Airways Trail of Tears Counter. Really, there were a lot of damn people in the line including this one nasty ass old man behind us who either had the bubonic plague or needed some water. All I’m saying is that he was coughing up a lung, spleen, or the knife that OJ used to kill Nicole Brown Simpson.

Not that I’m saying OJ did it…I’m just not saying he didn’t do it. Capiche?

703pm: I duck out of line to go check the display screen for arrivals and departures. This is where I notice something funny. Apparently all of the flights leaving Boston are either delayed or cancelled. ALL. OF. THEM. As in, every single one. The fucked up part is…SO ARE ALL OF THE INCOMING FLIGHTS. Now…that that makes about as much sense as people caring about Britney Spears. How the fuck are planes in the air having trouble landing.

Uh oh.

708pm: We get to the front counter where I’m informed that earlier in the day, at Boston Logan International Airport, the airport I’m attempting to fly out of…

…there was a radar malfunction at the Air Traffic Control Tower.

Read that again. I’ll wait.

*humming The Five Stairsteps “Danger! She’s A Stranger”*

I don’t know about you, but that’s just some shit that I never saw coming. Granted, I couldn’t see a cargo weight distribution problem either, but that just affected my plane.

Radar malfunction? Affects EVERYBODY’S plane. Apparently the radar was picking up any and everything in the air, to include flocks of geese causing the air traffic controllers to have to decipher what was what in the air. This caused the planes in route to have to increase their distance from one another to avoid…ya know…a crash.

By this point, I was fearful that whatever plane I was going to eventually get onto…was going down. It was the only outcome left.

715pm: I’m informed that there is a flight leaving out of Logan at 940pm to Philadelphia. But guess what…the flight from Philly to Baltimore is ALSO delayed. For what reason? Nobody knows. This shit is really turning into a Guinness World Record for most possible fuckups for one roundtrip. After consulting with my girlfriend, who is in a remarkably better mood than she was 10 minutes before, I just say fuck it and ask to be put on a flight for 9am the next morning.

I do have to say that I’m glad the good folks at Logan just decided to cancel and delay everything as the opposed to the dumbfuck pilots who flew me from Philly into Boston who thought that they could test God…in the air…just to get us to Boston a little earlier. I mean really, who tests God…in his Heavens???

I do not like green eggs and ham.

830pm: I email my boss to let her know that I will be coming into work late on Tuesday. I lay out a large part of the story, not as an excuse for being late but because I think its funny. Apparently she did too, I’ll get to that in a few.

Tuesday

615am: Wake up early enough to beat the rooster to the punch. He don’t want it with me, ask Nas, he don’t want it with me…Noooo.

715am: We walk out the door and get headed BACK to the airport. This time we look at the news flight schedules online just to make sure we aren’t making a mistake. Looks like all systems are a go.

750am: We get to the airport and get into a slight debate about the tickets I’m holding. Apparently, my girl thinks that the paper tickest I’m holding contains the boarding pass, I disagree. We wager 50 bucks. I win. She’s wrong. Do you think she paid??

Nope.

752am: So long…farewell…auf Wiedersehn…goodbye. *sniffle*

755am: You know, I don’t know why I do this when I go to the airport, but I usually have to totally strip down just to make it through the sensors. This is what I had to take off. My hat, coat, bracelet, watch, belt because of the metallic belt buckle, dog tags, cell phone, and shoes. It takes me about 5 minutes to get BACK dressed after making it through the metal detector and full cavity search conducted by a burlesque woman named Helga. She says she’s from Jersey. Suuuure she is.

(I didn’t really get a full cavity search, I just wanted to say Helga.)

8am: I’m sitting at my gate waiting to board a flight to Laguardia Airport where I’m supposed to have a 45 minute layover before catching my flight to Baltimore. Could this finally be the smooth flight plan?

Nope.

850am: I call my boss to let her know my progress. She laughs at me and tells me to take the train next time and she’ll see me when she sees me. She does want to be updated if anything interesting happens, for posterity’s sake though. My boss…what a card.

9am: For some reason, though the flight is scheduled for 9, we’re still sitting waiting to board. The plane is there, yet we’re not on it. Then this comes over the loudspeaker.

All customers on the 10am flight to Laguardia, that flight has been cancelled due to low visibility. Please go to gate B17 for the 9am flight.

Hmmm.

So let me get this right. You’re cancelling a flight scheduled for an hour from now because they won’t be able to see then?? Umm…bucko…WHAT ABOUT NOW??? How do you know you won’t be able to see then unless you can’t see shit now? Yet, the testing of God continues. Seriously, I didn’t realize that so many atheists were running airlines and airports.

920am: You know how they board by zones or rows usually? Not on late flights.

Flight Agent: Flight 2121 to Laguardia is now boarding all rows. Get yo’ ass on the plane so you can leave. Thank you!

930am: Take off. We’re informed that it’s going to be a quick 30 minute flight. That puts me in NY at about 10am so I can still make my connecting flight to Baltimore. Right??

10am: Still in air.

1015am: Still in air.

1030am: Still in air.

1040am: Still in air.

1051am: Touchdown.

How the fuck a 30 minute flight turned into an hour and 20 minute flight is beyond me. No explanation, nothing. Somebody somewhere is having a good laugh at my expense.

My flight leaving NY to Baltimore was supposed to leave at 1059am. And do you know what time it left?

1059am. For the first time on my entire saga, a plane actually leaves on time, and I miss it. Fuck.

1110am: I get rescheduled for the 125 flight to Baltimore. Great, another 2 hour wait in another airport. I feel so lucky right now I should play the lottery. Hell, if I played the lottery right now, somehow, I think that the state lottery board would find some law that states I’m responsible for paying the earnings on the $300 million jackpot. It’s been that kind of weekend.

1110am-110pm: Eat. Listen to iPod. Breathe. Wonder why we haven’t started boarding yet.

115pm: Hmm…apparently THIS flight is going to be delayed too. It’s okay cuz my boss already knows I’m not coming in. Hell she laughed again and said she’d see me on Wednesday.

135pm: We finally start to board, with little explanation as to why we’re not leaving until way later than scheduled. I hate US Airways…a lot.

136pm: Oh shit…that isn’t…yes it is…holy shit…this plane…

…HAS PROPELLERS!!!

In my life, I’ve determined that in 2005 there is just no reason for a plane to have propellers. They scare me. If one stops what happens?? What if a bird flies into that joint? Are we going down?

It’s official. I send text messages insinuating my life might end today. It’s been a good run.

2pm: Sitting on runway. Why aren’t we leaving? Fuck if I know.

215pm: Sittin’ sidewayz…I mean, still sitting there.

230pm: Finally…lift off.

345pm: We make it back to Baltimore into a gate area that I’ve NEVER seen before, which is only ironic since I’ve been to BWI about a million times and was sure I’d been to every terminal. I was wrong.

So after about 50-11 delays, I finally managed to make it back from whence I came.

To US Airways, fuck you for making everything that much more difficult and for no explanations.

Thus ends my travel story of the longest gotdamnned trip of my life. Sometimes you just have to laugh at it and realize…

…at least the plane didn’t go down.

Woosah!

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