Day 21: So close yet so far away

December 21. A day that will live in infamy. A day that will forever be remembered as the day Ghetto Barbie forgot how to read a simple airport departure board.

My day began at dark thirty, not unlike any other day that I'm scheduled to fly. My flight was scheduled to depart from Seattle at 7:10 a.m. My bags and I were dropped at the curb at 6:00 a.m. SHARP. Curb side check-in, the checking of one bag, and one hop, skip, and jump through security later, I had parked my tired bum at C11. I watched people board. I watched more people board. And then it was my turn to board. The time was now 6:45 a.m.

And that's when it happened.

I handed my boarding pass to Miss Scanner, and it didn't beep at her. Rather, it honked. Miss Scanner looked at my ticket and said, not too kindly might I add, "This is a Delta ticket."

 Um, duh. I know this. I'm flying on Delta this time to avoid Denver.

Then she said, "You need to be at S15. Didn't you read this?"

WHAT?!?! What do you mean, "Didn't you read this?!" Of course I read it! Do I look like an idiot?!

OK, so I didn't read it. I didn't read it because I didn't see it. What idiot at Delta decided to print the gate number in a size 3 font at the very bottom of the boarding pass! Everyone knows that the gate number is supposed to be printed boldly in the MIDDLE of the boarding pass! Since I had failed to see the gate number on my boarding pass, I had done the next best thing. I read the departure board. And there, scheduled to depart Seattle at 7:10 with a nonstop flight to Minneapolis was my flight. Departing from C11.

WRONG.

There was indeed a flight departing Seattle at 7:10 bound for Minneapolis. It just wasn't mine. MY flight scheduled to depart Seattle at 7:10 bound for Minneapolis was leaving from S15. ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE BLASTED AIRPORT!!!!!

So, I ran.

Fast forward through 15 minutes, six escalators, three shuttle trains, and one near asthma attack...

I arrived at my gate. And it was empty. Not a soul around. There was, however, a computer screen behind the counter with my name printed for the world to see under "Idiots who missed their plane due to sheer stupidity".

Then I passed out.

Kidding. But I did cry. Because now I knew I would miss my connecting flight in Minneapolis. The connecting flight that would have me home sweet home by 4:00 this afternoon. The connecting flight that would give me plenty of time to shower, fix my hair, throw some winery worthy clothes on, and head to Calico Skies Winery for a hospital fundraiser. A hospital fundraiser in which one of my dearest friends would be serenading us with his amazing piano playing skills. Seriously people, the guy is a legend. And I haven't gotten to hear him play in years.

This could only end badly.

The beginning of the end wasn't so bad. An angelic Delta airline worker managed to squeeze me onto the flight leaving Seattle at 8:50 a.m. Now, I would need to find another connecting flight in Minneapolis that would get me to Sioux Falls before 5:00 p.m.

It's now 5:08 p.m. and I'm still sitting in Minneapolis. So you tell me how this ends.

One of these signs should say "Crazy Town", because that's where I was headed.

There was snow in the silver lining. Enough snow to constitute a late start at schools in Lynden.

I am beyond mad at myself. I didn't oversleep. I didn't get stuck in Seattle traffic. I didn't check-in too late. I didn't offer to stay behind so some crazy mom could fly home to be with the kid that she left behind because she made him sleep in the attic. I missed my flight and ultimately ruined by ENTIRE day and evening, because I didn’t read a departure board carefully.

What….a moron.

And to top it all off, I won’t get to see Kaydrian before he heads for Canada with his beloved parents.

WWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shame on me for even being surprised. Everyone knows that I cannot escape the holiday travel drama. If it’s not Denver, it’s a departure board mishap. C11 and S15. Letters and numbers that will forever harbor bitterness in my soul.

Off to make friends with the airport wand waivers,

Bitter Betty