Shani No. 406

Monday the 17th of August and I am sitting the Indianapolis International Airport with my 'Indy Style' popcorn (cheddar AND caramel corn) and a diet coke pondering the meaning of names. You know what I mean - when parents name their kid something that means 'bitterness' and her life turns out to be a huge mess, or someone whose name means 'victory' and they seem to win at everything... I've known of this self fulfilling tendency, and yet I still named this blog Shani, which indicates adventures of the misadventure flavor. Should've known.

I successfully made it home from Tanzania, even after taking 4 weekend trips that involved catching planes, then the various flights to and from... If you total it up, I took 12 flights this summer, and even more than that if you count transfers. Finally, this morning I was dropped off at my home airport, a small place that was recently redone and perhaps made more efficient? No. I was late, but so were the other 10 people checking in with and even after me. I rushed to security, but not particularly stressed, asked one of the TSA ladies if I could go through more quickly since my plane was taking off in 15 minutes. Apparently I wasn't stressed enough, because she blew me off. I pulled my shoes and computer out of the x-ray and took off at as much of a sprint as I could at 7am with backpack and without breakfast. Too late. The guy at the ticket counter had actually hand delivered the claim ticket for my bag of souvenirs to the plane, thinking I was sitting in my seat. As he printed up a standby ticket, he commented on how calm I was... What's the point in freaking out?

However, 9 hours later, after watching flight 406 pull away without me because they had oversold and everyone showed up, I decided I might-could freak out. My cell phone battery has died, the charger is in my bag that successfully made it to Denver.....

On the other hand, I've now got a standby ticket for flight 667, I've got my computer and free Wi-fi, and I've been able to start a job search, email people, and talk to an 83 year old lady from Muncie. I guess if anything, I made someone else's day. I've also had a leisurely breakfast with good coffee, talked to a lady handing out free samples who told me about the smudges I'd managed to get on my face while standing at the top of the parking garage singing to the sky and myself... All in all, I suppose it could be worse.

(If I don't manage to get to Denver tonight though.... ask me later.)