After spending a few days in Las Vegas on the firm retreat, Sunday rolled around and it was time to go home.
The plane was scheduled to leave at 12:55. Given the long lines caused by the ridiculous "security" measures the airlines/airports/FAA/whoever is now requiring, I thought I'd better get there early, so I caught the shuttle from the hotel a bit before 11 and got to McCarran at a bit after 11.
And the lines at security were horrendous. Or they looked that way, anyway. Apparently, they know how to move people in Vegas. Although there were at least several hundred people ahead of me, but I was able to get boarding pass, check my bags (there was no line at Continental) and clear security in about 15 minutes.
So far, so good. I had depositions to read and over an hour and a half with nothing else to do.
And the flight to Houston was uneventful, though a little delayed. We hit the ground maybe five minutes late.
No problem so far. I still had 30 minutes to make my connecting flight.
But when we got to the terminal, someone else had stolen our parking place. At first they said they were going to move the other plane, but they ended up sending us to a different terminal. There was a plane there too, but they said it should be moved by the time we got there.
Getting a bit close now, but still probably nothing to worry about.
Then we got to Terminal C, and someone forgot to tell the ground crew that they were supposed to be guiding us in. So we waited. And waited. Interminably, you might say.
And finally with about 15 minutes to go, they started to disembark. Fortunately, the flight crew recognized that there were people with close connecting flights and asked that those who weren't in a hurry keep their seats until we got out. And they did.
Now it's a bit of a problem. Fifteen minutes to get out of Terminal C, catch the tram, get to Terminal B, and get to Gate B84D.
So I (and a few others), did the O.J. imitation. The one from the old commercials. From before he got famous. We got to the terminal at the exact minute the plane was scheduled to leave. A bit winded, though.
And then we waited. Because the plane wasn't one of those Continental Express jets. It was a SAAB 340 (I think) operated by one of Continental's partners, and the departure time was the time the shuttle was supposed to leave the gate to drive us to the plane.
The plane was obviously considerably more experienced than the flight crew. And I'm not knocking the flight crew. They were just fine. The plane had a few problems, though. Fer instance, the flight attendant's jumpseat slides to one side to stow the stairs. Only problem is that it wouldn't lock back into place. So the flight attendant, and then the first officer spent about five minutes trying to get it secured. And I guess they finally did.
So we were ready to take off. I returned my seat to the full upright position. And it slid right back to the fully reclined position. The mechanism was so worn that it wouldn't lock in place.
And we took off. And one of the overhead compartments came open. One of the passengers slammed it shut, and it fell open again. This process repeated itself several times.
But as I said, I'm not knocking the flight crew. After an otherwise uneventful flight, we arrived in Beaumont only a bit behind schedule. And my bags even made it.
So I headed out to my truck to drive home. And just as I was leaving the airport parking lot, I heard a "flop flop flop" sound of a very flat tire. And it was indeed a very flat tire.
So I pulled off the road, got the jack and the spare and prepared to change the tire. But the damned lug nuts were so tight that I actually bent the lug wrench trying to get them off. And I bent it in such a way that it gave almost no leverage. Leaving me with three loosened nuts and two that just weren't going to move. An acquaintance of mine was leaving at the same time and stopped to help, but because my truck happens to be a Land Rover, it's lug nuts are bigger than pretty much every other car on the road.
It took about half an hour, but I finally got the lug wrench bent back into a usable configuration, and with considerable effort finally got the last to lug nuts loosened, jack up the truck and change the tire. My flight was scheduled to arrive in Beaumont at about 6:30. It's about a 15 minute drive from the airport to my house. I got home at 9:00, covered in sweat and grease and break dust. Which was sort of annoying because I still had (and have) work that absolutely positively has to be done by tomorrow. Which I'll be getting back to presently.
Other than that, it was a lovely trip. I think it was anyway. I don't really remember. Or I'm not supposed to say. Or something.
Labels: Air Travel, Vegas
