Caterwauling

So I walked into Reagan National early Tuesday morning, luggage in tow, to the America West counter.

It was one of those rare occasions in which I wanted to deal with a real, live human at the ticket counter. But I suppose I should have defined human.

Anywho, I got into line — I was first, behind two people at the electronic ticket dispenser Because I had a minute, I grabbed my wallet and yanked out my driver’s license in one fluid motion. I say this because some jerkoff walked up to the side of the counter and got serviced RIGHT AWAY while I waited. Me? Not happy.

One of the machines opened up, and this little man who CLEARLY had short-man syndrome snarled at me to go to it already. So I lugged my bags up to it, whereupon it promptly told me that I couldn’t check in because you can only check in eight hours or fewer, prior to your flight. Seeing as though my flight was leaving in, oh, an HOUR, this was Not Good.

So I asked the Sniveling Little Shit to help me. He acted like I had just eaten his breakfast and stormed out to show me what I’d done wrong. Which was nothing because I’m not a goddamned moron, so he had to check me in himself, which took all of 60 seconds.

Meanwhile, a guy came up to the next machine and it gave him a whole different type of error. So when the Sniveling Little Shit snuck out from behind the big, bad counter, I didn’t really see him.

The thing is, I have this one suitcase that literally takes all of my might to lift. It’s for suits and stuff, and there’s so much hardware and so damn many zippers that the thing is heavy without any clothes in it. Shove in a few dozen yards of clothing, and yay carpal tunnel.

Anyway, I totally did not plan this, but when I gathered up all my strength and hoisted that big-ass suitcase into the air, I (accidentally, I promise!) HIT the Sniveling Little Shit and sent him FLYING across the aisle! Hah!

Oh, to see his legs going in opposite directions warmed my frosty little heart that day. I sort of choked out a half-assed, “Sorry!” before scooting away to hand over my bags to security.

All told, I wasn’t the ONLY one flying that day! 😉

My favorite memory from my trip was definitely when I was standing atop the Eiffel Tower (a half-scale replica of the one in Paris), overlooking the Bellagio Hotel, which has the most magnificent fountains. Every 15 minutes, there’s a water show, where the fountains dance in myriad patterns — no two (consecutive) shows are the same. And there’s music to complement the movements.

It was near midnight on my last day in Vegas, and I really just wanted some peace and quiet. If I could have brought my journal up there with me, I would have — it was just a prime thinking location. But, alas, people talked. A lot. And the only thing that kept me from throwing anyone off the building was the fact that talking to other tourons tourists helped us to figure out the song that was playing, which was perfect (and it sure beat the previous Celine Dion song. Ugh).

The gal next to me asked if I were a movie buff. I kind of shrugged and asked what movie she was thinking about. She said she didn’t know but the song came from it. I had a few ideas, but in talking, she said, “Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour were in it.” I said, “Somewhere in Time” and I thought she could have just hugged me. And I would have hugged her back, because I would have been humming the song for weeks without knowing what it was.

In any event, I’d watched the fountains from inside Circo, where I don’t even want to talk about what my meal cost but wow, hello that’s the way to live! But they were more breathtaking at nearly 550 feet.

And guess who left her fully charged digital camera AT HOME before this odyssey began? *sigh* That would be the same girl who bought a camera phone, oh, YESTERDAY. 😉