"This is Delta, How Can We Help You?"

On Thursday, my three minute delay quickly turned into a three hour delay, which prompted me to call Delta's hotline and request a move to an earlier flight. The conversation went something like this...

Me: Hi. I'm scheduled on the 5:46 flight out of Birmingham into Atlanta, final destination Raleigh/Durham, this afternoon and I see that it's three hours delayed. Can I get on an earlier flight to Atlanta?
Simonne: (pause) We have one at 4:17. Could you make that?
Me: What time is it now?
S: It's 2pm.
Me: That's perfect! Can you please switch my seat to be on that flight?
S: I can.
Me: Is there an earlier flight I can take from Atlanta to Durham, or will I need to wait for the 9:45 flight?
S: No, all the other flights are fully booked, but at least this will get you to Atlanta.
Me: Definitely.

So it sounds like it's going well, right? Then it starts to spiral...

S: So let me get you all finished up here. You want to cancel the flight into Durham then, right?
Me: No. We're just moving the first leg of my flight up. You said no other flights were available into Durham, is that right?
S: Yes, that's right. Ok, I've got you all booked on flight 2290, final destination tonight in Atlanta...
Me: NO! Simonne, wait. I'm going to Durham.
S: Oh yes, that's right. Ok, I've got you booked on the 5:46 flight out of Birmingham.
Me: No no no. We moved that up to the 4:17 flight, right?
S: Oh yes, my apologies. And you wanted to go ahead and cancel the returns on Sunday, then?
Me: No! Don't cancel anything! Can you read me back the itinerary?

She read it back and, shockingly, it was accurate. This it got worse again...

S: Tell me your email address and I'll go ahead and mail this new itinerary to you.
Me: Ok, it's a-j-o-h-n-s-o-n-0-5 -- the "0" and the "5" are numbers.
S: So it's h....
Me: h-n-s-o-n-0-5, where the "0" and the "5" are numbers, not letters.
S: a-j-o-h-n-s-o-n-the letter 'o'-the number '5'
Me: No. That's not right, the zero and the five are numbers. ajohnson. the number zero. the number five.
S: Ok, I think I have it now.
Me: I'm actually driving to the airport now, so you don't need to email it. It's 2:45 and I've got the make the plane.
S: Ok then. Can I help you with any hotel or car rental information today?
Me: Oh no, no thank you.

As it was, I ended up on the 2:30 flight out of Birmingham, which actually left at 4:15, and then bought my way onto an earlier flight out of Atlanta, which is good because my original flight was cancelled altogether. But wow, that was painful. I've never been more thankful that the wedding is slowly moving into the near future. That's the last time I'll fly to visit B in Durham until it's my home, too, and then hopefully we'll be flying places together. And if we need help, we're definitely not calling Simonne.

Flight Status

"Behind Schedule"... only 3 minutes so far, but with big storms looming, I'm worried it could be a long night in the Birmingham airport or, worse, stuck in Atlanta. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure which would really be worse... Say a prayer for clear(er) skies and safe travel.

I'm Just Sayin's All

CNN profiled several struggling families as they worked to make ends meet over the past year. While reading the follow-up interview (five months later), I found this gem:

Saddled with credit card debt and working at a low-paying fast-food restaurant, Jeffrey Root, 27, decided to go back to college to study English during the economic crisis to better his future.

Jeffrey, I love my English degree, but let me say that buckling down to get an English degree to "better the future," provide for your family, and get out of $8,000 of credit card debt is probably not the best plan.

English is great and lovely and, believe you me, I wouldn't have majored in anything else. However, when I picked it, I did realize that it didn't have the immediately applicable job skills that some other majors seemed to have (though, these days, Econ majors aren't doing so hot either). I chose to study English ultimately to better my writing. What better way to expand your own abilities than to study the masters of the craft? It worked out in my favor. My first boss post-grad was thrilled that I'd majored in English lit, rather than communications or journalism. "I can teach you to write like we do," he said, "But I cannot teach you to love words, or writing."

But seriously, Jeffrey, an English degree to bolster your fledgling financial situation? A one-way ticket to the big life it is not. Best wishes to Jeffrey. Here's hoping that he's getting a teaching certificate on the side...

And, by the way, I think I really need this shirt. Sure would save trouble when B looks at me and asks me random things, like reciting the 12s from the multiplication tables. And yes, that does happen.

Glory Days

I'm off to Durham this afternoon to see B (yea!) and then head to Charlottesville on Friday morning with the rest of the Duke team for the annual UVA law school softball tournament. No, I'm not kidding, and I'm actually really looking forward to it. My first weekend visit to law school (B's first year, Labor Day weekend), there was a 1L softball tournament B was playing in, so I went to watch and, let me tell you, between the hopeful 1L girls asking each other which one the "real" baseball player was (the legend of B's professional baseball days preceded him, obviously) and the seriously number of rule-followers out there coaching third base, it was a hoot.

B's made fast friends at law school, and I'm excited to have a weekend away with a number of his good buddies. For one, it's going to be an awesome break from what I normally do everyday (office, gym, dinner out, walk with the girls, wedding planning, etc). Instead, I'll have three glorious days to sit outside, maybe play an inning or two, and definitely bring the Gatorade (it runs in my blood, remember my Mom with the cooler?). Fabulous! For two, I get to see B doing something I know he loves, which always makes me happy.

I leave tonight after work and come back on Sunday night. I can't wait! Plus, I just checked and there are 37 days left until the wedding, which was B's college baseball number, making this weekend perfectly timed and destined for great things. Besides, when else can I pack a suitcase that contains (among other things) two baseball gloves and a pair of stilettos? Today, especially, I love my life.

"Oooh, you want a CONTRACT."

Me: Mom, let me fax you this menu the reception place faxed me while you were gone a few weeks ago.

Mom: Ok. Um, A, this was a contract that needed to be signed. I called Cathy and she was out so I signed the contracts and sent her them and a copy of your email.

Me: Oooooh. My bad.

Wedding Planning Moment of the Day

My life has come full circle. While dropping off a stack of thank you notes in the mailroom's "outgoing mail" box, I looked in to find an RSVP card addressed to my parents' home. Unfortunately, the paper was too thick to see who the card was from, or if they were attending. And, yes, I did resist the urge to pry it open, then shut it again. Is it a federal offense if the mail is technically yours anyway?

The RSVPs are rolling in, though we still have 192 out. Yipes! Deadline is a week from Thursday, so here's hoping some start rolling in. Granted, a few of those are members of the wedding party, so I can probably point for the fence in regards to which way they're going to go.

Walk of Shame

This whole fascination started when I won the MyScoop Valentine's Day contest, which netted me several things, among them a dinner cooked by a personal chef, perfume, alcohol, and shiny earrings. One of the items in the gift basket, however, caught my eye: Flingwear.

Flingwear, as they're called, are tiny thongs carefully wrapped and tucked into little ziplock dime bags. Apparently they're good to keep in your purse for those nights that you either a) inexplicably lose your panties and need a new pair or b) find yourself out overnight unexpectedly and need a new pair for the morning. The tagline for the product is, "You're now free to fling!" If only they could merge their motto with Southwest, then we'd have "You're not free to fling about the country," which might just be the slogan for Hooters Air.

Mom, rest assured, I don't have a tiny bag of panties in my purse. For one reason, no thank you and for two, they were all size small and look intimidatingly small. At least through the bag. No, I haven't touched them yet.

B one-upped the Flingwear people with this find he sent me last night: the Walk of Shame kit. The kit, a $34.99 value, contains a dress, flip flops ("Because you can't run away fast enough in those heels"), a backpack, sunglasses, pre-pasted toothbrush, wipes, and a call/don't call "leave behind" note card that, depending on the side you fill in, either reminds him of your name or tells him to never call you again. Clever, cute, funny, and probably a pretty popular gag-gift among girlfriends, at least in the next holiday season.

One cool thing, though. The kit contains one last item: a breast cancer awareness bracelet. Apparently part of the proceeds from the kits are donated to "a breast cancer foundation", though it doesn't specify which.

Just a note, they do custom kits for clients. So far, all the names in the list are hotels in Vegas, which fits perfectly with the kit's slogan, "We'll Never Tell."