As you know, the trip up to Canada from home was quick and went without incident. It was the smoothest travel experience we've had in a very long time, aside from the trip to visit my parents in NC earlier this year.
The trip back was not this smooth or fast.
Mind you, it was partially the timing. We were to fly out of Halifax in the middle of the day, land in Philadelphia and have a layover, and then get on the plan to Omaha to touch back down here around 11pm that Sunday night. This is so far removed from the norm of what our usual travel is, which is to leave as early in the morning as possible and to get at our final destination in the early afternoon hours so that we have the rest of that day ahead of us.
Well, that wasn't an option this time around for the set of flights we'd booked, due to budget constraints upon booking them months in advance. We were, basically, taking what we could get and were working around that as best as possible. And, of course, it was a holiday weekend in Canada -- we were flying home the day before Canadian Thanksgiving.
Early Sunday morning we got up, made sure everything we had would fit into our luggage and carry-ons, and weighed them to ensure they were not overweight. Daisy's suitcase was 48 pounds and mine was 49 -- juuuust under the limit of 50. We unfortunately could not take the remainder of our bottled water or my Monsters, so we left them on the table in the room that they were unopened and a gift for the hotel cleaning staff.
And so, we were off. Our first flight into Philadelphia was uneventful, but it felt like I was being ripped away from my rightful homeland to return to a land of tyranny and oppression.
Well...maybe I'm being a little melodramatic there, but the thought remained in my head that if it weren't for the cats, I would have no real reason to ever return to the states. I feel no more patriotic connection to the United States, no want to be there, no undying need to be around other Americans anymore. I feel no more need to fight for my country; the Trump administration has beaten that out of me, and the half of the country who is complicit in allowing and supporting his agendas sicken and at times, outright disgust me. I feel defeated and beaten down and it is very hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel, if such a light even exists.
Nonetheless, we landed uneventfully in Philadelphia, stopped and got a bite to eat (I chose Sbarro, so I could get a calzone and a slice) and made our way to the next gate, where we would sit for five hours.
If you have never had a five-hour layover in an airport, I would not recommend it. I would recommend it even less if you have to do it in Philadelphia. Yes, it's a decent airport, but good lord is it mind-numbingly boring to just sit there. There were no TVs anywhere near our gate, the seats were uncomfortable, the lighting was dim and troubling, and for most of the layover we were just sitting there.
I don't like just sitting there. I have to have something or do something that occupies me or occupies my time. I have a great need to be entertained or to keep busy. At home, I can write here, I can go watch TV, I can take a nap or listen to podcasts and play a game on my PC or my Switch -- in an airport, I can do none of these things.
But Brandon, you may be saying, do you not have a phone?
I do. I was so very bored with everything on the phone and I had no way to really recharge it until we'd get home. My phone requires a stand charger because of the case on it; its case is too thick to just be able to plug it in, and I'm not going to take the case off every time I want to charge it.
Daisy seemed mostly content to read her book and just veg out; I can't just do that in airports. I don't know why. I can't sleep in airports either -- I don't feel safe sleeping in an airport, not to mention the sheet uncomfortability of the seats at our gate. I got up and wandered a bit, looking around for something that could occupy me -- the newsstands had some interesting books, but none I was willing to pay the inflated $30 price tag for. Everywhere I looked, I was also surrounded by bright green Philadelphia Eagles merchandise, which as a Kansas City Chiefs fan, slightly turned my stomach.
I was very restless and irritable. I love to travel when it's fast and I can get to my intended destination quickly. I hate it when I have to wait...on anything. Waiting and layovers mean it's that much more time before I'm where I'm supposed to be, that much more time until I can exit an airport and vape, that much more time until I can actually relax. We'd been traveling for hours and I just desperately wanted to be in my house, in my office, in my chair.
The flight to Omaha from Philadelphia was very cramped and uncomfortable; I felt like I was crammed into a box for three hours with nothing to see and nothing to do but stare at the back of the seat in front of me. There was no in-flight entertainment, no screen, no reading material -- I was just there. I was starting to go mad. I tried to sleep and dozed off here and there, but it's hard for me to sleep comfortably on a plane. Don't get me wrong, I can do it, but it's never comfortable and I can't get any actual restful sleep on a plane.
Eventually, finally, we touched down in Omaha, and I rushed outside to vape while we waited for our luggage to hit the baggage claim. Daisy was very angered by this even though I was gone for less than five minutes, and I get it, but there is no way I can rationally explain to her the need for nicotine and fresh air after being denied it for over twelve hours straight. It will make me sound like a crazy, selfish asshole -- and maybe at that point I was. I was done, absolutely done, sick of traveling and fed up. How many airline miles do I need to accrue before I can vape on a plane and say "fuck you" while giving other passengers the finger? Because after twelve hours of being stuck on planes and in airport gates and terminals, I was ready to start punching people. I am not a nice person when I reach my breaking point, and few things do it faster than being essentially imprisoned for long, long travel trips -- it's why I will pay more, will pay through the nose, for the shortest and most comfortable trips possible when we're flying somewhere, and I've found when I let Daisy plan the trip she plans for budget and not comfort. When I plan the trip (as I generally do when we visit my parents, for example), it will cost more, but it will also be the fastest and most comfortable option.
Anyway.
After waiting for what seemed like forever for our Uber, at midnight, we got home under cover of dark night to find our loving cats waiting for us. They were fine, the house was fine, and we were finally, finally back home. We both showered, and I lugged our luggage upstairs and began unloading it to start the long, arduous process of laundry and unpacking, with both of my voids (Pete and Mable) incredibly curious as to what I was doing.
Now, this was the overnight hours of Sunday, October 12, going into the Monday morning of the 13th. Daisy had to return to work the next day for her normal shifts, and I had to as well on Monday evening. But my sleep schedule was absolutely destroyed by the trip; I had not been staying up all night to readjust, because, well, I couldn't. Daisy went to bed almost immediately after her shower, but I forced myself to stay up until around 4 or so until I trudged into the bedroom and collapsed into the bed -- which seemed to welcome me like an old friend.
And so, our trip officially ended and our lives slowly began to return to normal. We both returned to work, we both slowly unpacked, and I am still eating (slowly) the packs of vegan turkey and bags of ketchup chips we brought home with us to this day.
So it goes...
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