First, I'd like to say that my vacation to Hawaii was AWESOME. I got to do all sorts of cool things, like hike in an active volcano (there was this guy who seemed to be wandering to his doom, where doom is sulfuric acid cloud), navigate through an unlit lava vein (a small cave that lava used to pass through--it was quite dark), snorkeling, regular beaching (begrudging the fact that I can't wear my glasses in the water AND that the only strangers that seemed to ever run into me while body surfing were old men in speedos or kids on boogy boards), and eating. That story, however, is not the story I am here to tell. I am here to tell the story of how I ended up stuck in Dulles International Airport (IAD) for two days.
My travels started on Saturday, 1 PM Hawaii time, when I departed Kona airport for San Francisco. That flight went ridiculously smoothly, and was really quite comfortable. In San Francisco, me and my brother parted ways with my mother and step dad, who later called us to warn us that there was a big snow storm about to go through the East coast. We worried a bit, but thought nothing much of it really, since it wasn't supposed to do much to Norfolk or Newport News. So, we board the plane for IAD and have a very comfortable flight indeed.
After we land in IAD (leaving us at 8 AM Sunday Eastern time--I am very very low on sleep at this point), me and my brother part ways, so that he can beat the snow storm that was going to reach the Dulles area any minute, and because my flight had been confirmed to still be on. I call my roommate, and he says he can't pick me up (his truck really doesn't handle weather AT ALL), so I start to contemplate other means of getting home from Norfolk (I even call a couple of co-workers).
A couple of hours pass, and the time to board my flight comes... but it gets canceled. "Oh great," I say to myself, "Just what I really need. Again."
As a side note, most vacations I have made to the west coast for the past 4 years has involved one of my flights being canceled. Fortunately, this usually only involved me having to wait an extra hour or two in the airport before being able to go on my merry way.
Anyway, I proceed to wait in a ridiculously long line to make new travel arrangements (BLAH), which was admittedly made slightly easier by conversing with others that are also bored out of their minds in the ridiculously long line. When I finally get to the end of this line (it took a bit more than an hour, I believe), I am told that the soonest available flight I could get on confirmed (so no random chance involved) is Wednesday. That's right, WEDNESDAY, a whole three days later (except more like 4, since it was early in the day Sunday). At this juncture, I decide it is best to ask to get placed onto a waiting list for the first flight the next day (so Monday at 8:54 AM), but to also accept the guaranteed ticket for Wednesday, just in case.
So, I call my brother (to get his address), grab a taxi, and go to his place. When I arrive, I grab a 3 hours nap, because I REALLY NEEDED ONE (post-nap sleep counter: 4 hours of sleep over the past 24 hours). After the nap, I play some video games with my brother (Block Ops Zombie mode is AWESOME) and get slightly drunk. His roommate arrives, and some shenanigans occur that result in a few very unfortunate things happening to my brothers poor, poor couch. His roommate (a fun and good guy, overall) then proceeds to talk with me until 3 AM, which was nice because I like conversation, but was evil because I really wanted to sleep.
I then take a 2 hour nap and head back to the airport, where I wait for my next flight (sleep counter: 6 hours over a 48 hour period)! While I'm waiting, I took a certain amount of masochistic joy in watching my placement in the waiting list for this flight (I stuck around because the list would be transfered to later flights in the day): I started at position 40. After an hour, I get moved to position 42. Then position 43, and finally position 46 when the flight leaves (that's right, I got FURTHER DOWN THE LINE as time went on). When the flight leaves, I talk with the lady at the counter, where she promptly says, "WOW, someone must HATE you!"
Fortunately, she worked some magic, and informs me that she has gotten me bumped up to position 6! Lucky me! So lucky, that I decide to reward myself with a Five Guys breakfast: egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich with jalapeños and onions. Possibly one of the best fast-food breakfasts I've ever had, and much better than their burgers, because it was infinitely less greasy.
Anyway, I wait around until noon (the next flight into Norfolk), talk with my buddy Luke on the phone a bit (he offered to pick me up at the airport--he's such a nice guy), talk a bit with my step-dad, and have a generally jolly filled time (note: I'm acting slightly drunk because my sleep counter is: 7 hours over a 52 hour period--I grabbed an hour nap in the airport). During this time, I learn that every flight into Norfolk had been canceled the previous day, which is why the waiting list was so long (and probably why I kept on getting bumped later in line, as higher-paying customers wanted spots). Regardless, the waiting list for the next flight finally comes up and I'm.... number 21! Which is not 6! This made me cranky!
I wait around anyway, to see where my number ends up (the next flight after the noon-ish one was at 3, and there were a couple after that). I even get pretty hopeful, since the waiting list was getting shorter... until the noon flight got canceled. And every flight to Norfolk for the rest of the day, because of strong winds (basically, every flight that used a small plane). After confirming my position in the waiting list with the lady at the counter (position: IN YOUR DREAMS), I call my brother; we decide to meet in the Tyson's Corner mall, since he works in the area.
I grab a cab, and tell the driver to go the Tyson's Corner Mall. He asks:
"Where's that exactly?"
"It's the big mall in Tyson's Corner. You know, the one everyone from a couple of states go to."
"Do you have a specific address?"
"No..." I say, while thinking 'There really is a guy who makes a living off of getting people places in this area doesn't know about the biggest, most popular mall in the area!?'.
"...But I can probably get your Garmen to navigate us there. Also, it's right off of route 7."
"Oh, so you do know the address!"
"No, I don't, but if you just look it up, the Garmen can find it."
At this point, the cab driver finally uses the Garmen, and gets the location of Tyson's Galleria. Desperately wanting to get out of the fucking airport, I tell him that's fine, which sends us off.
Thirty-four dollars later, we are at the Tyson's Galleria. I hand the cab driver my credit card (I saw that he had a reader when I entered the cab).
"Oh, I'm sorry, I should've told you before we left--my card reader doesn't work."
"Dammit, can you just wait here while I go to an ATM here in the mall? I'll leave my stuff in the cab."
"Okay."
So, I run through Tyson's Galleria (which is quite rich and ritzy), ask a store-clerk where the nearest ATM is ("Oh, you know, somewhere not in the store," with a bored expression). Finally track it down, get some cash, and run back to the cab, where I grab my stuff and pay him (he didn't charge me extra).
Of course, I hadn't agreed to meeting my brother at the Tyson's Galleria, so with an entire week's worth of stuff, I start to walk to the mall. Fortunately, it isn't far. Unfortunately, it is at the other side of Chainbridge Road and Route 7, which are not easy roads to cross, especially with a weeks worth of stuff on your back.
Regardless, I make it, and enter through the nearest entrance: Macy's. As I walk in, the "You're stealing shit!" alarm goes off. Fortunately, the store is PACKED with people in their post-christmas shopping frenzies, so no one notices me (a guy who looks quite disheveled, wearing a large coat, and carrying to bags full of clothes in a CLOTHING STORE).
Finally getting through Macy's, I navigate my way to the theater food court. This proved difficult, because the mall was PACKED and the hallway stall people were persistent (one was actually quite attractive, and was trying her best to use this to her advantage by getting very close to me and lightly flirting. It didn't work). Hoping that I had enough time to catch a movie (since I was there), I took a look at the movie times, the line, and the current time. The prognosis: IN MY DREAMS. So, I wait for about an hour and a half for my brother to arrive (I had an icecream at the Coldstone--it was good). During my wait, I look up train times and station locations (prognosis: excellent locations, but not happening today). My brother arrives, he offers to drive me home. I tell him no (since I didn't want to put him through that), and tell him that I can take a train from the Alexandria station (near where he lives) tomorrow morning. He agrees, we do some errands on the way to his place, get to his place, promptly turn around and go to Hooters.
I enjoyed hooters. Our waitress was cute, had a nice sense of humor (one of my brother's friends got burned, multiple times), and really quite nice (she ended up staying an hour after her shift for us). I really wish I was able to go when I wasn't feeling like crap (sleep count: 6 hours over the past 60 hours) and was feeling a bit more hygenic (note: airplanes don't allow most toiletries, and I wasn't exactly planning on spending more than an hour in the Dulles area). Fortunately, I wasn't too bad off (I still had a pair of clean clothes packed, and I was able to borrow toothpaste from my brother), but I hadn't showered (my brother doesn't have spare towels), so I was feeling kinda grimy.
Finally, the next day comes, and I arrive at the train station (sleep counter: 12 hours over the past 72 hours). I doze in and out of consciousness while waiting for the train. I get on the train, doze in and out the entire trip (note: trains are fucking comfortable. Fuck planes). At around 2 PM, I arrive in Newport News (much closer to home than Norfolk), grab a cab, and head home. After doing a couple of chores (feeding myself, reading mail, cleaning a foot of snow off of my car), I head to work for a couple of hours. Then I head back home, played some video games, and went to bed.
THE END.
