The Weary Traveler
Dateline Saipan (CNMI) – It’s been non-stop for this weary traveler, folks. The trip started off on the wrong foot when Lynchburg Regional decided to start pretending that it was an actual airport instead of the glorified landing strip that it is and cut off entry for all passengers who arrived later than thirty minutes before takeoff. Like me.
But I suppose when you have an airline at a place like LRA with one person likely pulling multiple duties as ticket agent, gate attendant, baggage handler, and making sure that there are enough rubber bands on hand in case the prop plane breaks one, you can’t really afford to be lallygagging.
Anyway, my boss was none too pleased about my missing the flight. I concocted a woeful tale of windblown trees blocking our route to the main highway – hey, it could have happened, and I am not saying it didn’t – and that seemed to smooth any ruffled feathers. He contacted the company “travel coordinator;” whom - knowing my employer - I suspect works on a laptop out of her kitchen, hunting for the cheapest rates on Travelocity or Expedia in between sessions with her phone sex clients, but I have no solid evidence of that.
Perhaps aware of the terrible crimes I imagined of her, she booked me on a flight the next day out of Charlottesville, from which I would fly to Detroit for an 8-hour layover before boarding a 14-hour flight for Tokyo. It is because of itineraries such as this that I have resolved to keep any negative opinions of travel coordinators to myself. Of course, I guess I blew that in the previous paragraph, but for you, Gentle Reader, I am willing to make the sacrifice. Which is why on my return trip I will probably be riding with the luggage.
Naturally, I had fasted for several days in anticipation of the gastronomic delights served aboard the aircraft. Psych! But that is as far as I will go with airline food jokes. I’ll leave those to the pros up in the Poconos.
From Tokyo, it was a short (by comparison) three and a half hour hop to Guam. My missing my original flight out of Lynchburg had screwed up my hotel reservation, so I had to call the Guam Marriott and request a shuttle to come and get me. I’m sure our travel coordinator made the effort to change the reservation, but they probably thought it was a prank call when they saw her 976 number on the Caller ID, but that is just one theory.
I had stayed at the Guam Marriott before and had enjoyed its amenities, but things had changed. Upon stumbling into my room at 2am, I immediately headed to the honor bar for a cold beer, only to discover that, much to my chagrin, the room didn’t have one. However, they did leave me a complimentary bottle of water, so I made do with that while I hooked into the in-room Internet so that I could e-mail the missus and let her know of my safe arrival. Alas, the Internet was down and would be for another hour and a half. When I finally managed to connect, I discovered that the Marriott now charged for in-room Internet! In the words of the immortal (at least until he dies) Jerry Seinfeld, what was the deal with that?
I was appalled. I have stayed in fleabag joints where the walls were so thin you could hear the twenty-dollar bills landing on the nightstand in the next room, and even THOSE places didn’t charge for Internet! And this was the freakin’ MARRIOTT!
After 2 hours of fitful sleep, I was up and in the shower, then did an early checkout to wait for my ride, which I was expecting to arrive at 7:30. My luggage and I were outside at 7:15 so as not to keep the man waiting.
Now, had I struggled and not gotten down to the lobby until, say, 7:31, you can bet I would have been met by an angry, horn-honking co-worker yelling at me to hurry up so we didn’t miss the next launch to the ship. However, since I was early, no such scene would be forthcoming.
Unfortunately, my ride would not be forthcoming either. Seven-thirty came and went, as did eight-thirty, nine-thirty, ten-thirty…whereupon I finally gave up, drew another hundred bucks from the hotel ATM and hailed a cab for an eighty-dollar cab ride to the marina. Hope he wasn’t expecting a tip.
Finally aboard the launch, I managed to relax for a bit. My original ride – coincidentally, he was also the supervisor I was relieving for this tour – showed up full of apologies. I was too tired to be mad, I just wanted to get to the ship, get settled in my room and hit the ground running. The two of us did our turnover in record time, and he was off the ship that night. The next day, we sailed for Saipan, where we are anchored as I write this. I’m settled in and ready to work…well, as long as they aren’t expecting too much.
At least my luggage arrived with me. I know it will on the trip home, as I will likely be sitting alongside it, especially if our company travel coordinator reads this. So let’s keep that between us, OK? Much obliged.
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