Not the best day. I didn’t sleep well – it turns out women do snore – and I wake up at 5.30am to check out of the hostel and get back to the airport for my 8.50am flight to Virginia, on the other side of the country. Despite the early hour, it’s all going quite smoothly until one of my rucksack buckles breaks as I load it onto my back. I manage a temporary fix by tying the straps together, and I’ll move one of the buckles I’m not using to fix it when I have time. I get on the flight, which is delayed enough to make me run from one terminal to the other in Atlanta.
Delta is a scummy airline – I didn’t realise they are a no frills airline – you have to pay for absolutely everything. I pay for my rucksack ($15) and no food is included. The food that is available is overpriced. The flight is four hours, plus a three-hour time difference, so seven hours of the day disappears. The flight to Newport News is only an hour and a half, so not so bad. I receive a text from Tim, my ex-flatmate and the reason for this cross-country dash, to say he will pick me up but he is running a little late. He’s getting married. I’m sure he has more important things on his mind than my arrival.
I collect my rucksack and find the top pocket is unzipped. Everything from that pocket is gone. I think it’s all small replaceable things – a rain jacket, two packs of cards, some makeup, sunscreen and so on, but I’m not 100% sure, so that’s a bit annoying. especially as I’m positive it was zipped when I handed the bag to security. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it. To add to my joy, when I step outside to wait for Tim, I discover it’s bucketing down with rain.
Tim calls to say he’s at the airport. That’s when we figure out we are at different airports. I’m at the one closest to Williamsburg, but apparently the rest of the wedding party flew into the one further away, so he went there. The information counter is unmanned and there doesn’t seem to be any public transport to Williamsburg.
I fill in time while Tim makes the hour or so drive. I decide to grab a snack from the little airport bar – chicken wings with blue cheese dressing. They bring a huge pile of chicken wings, crispy skinned, in a mild chili sauce. They forget the dressing. They also give me a plastic knife and fork to eat them with. Chicken wings are difficult to eat even with a standard knife and fork. As soon as I tuck in, the spokes of the fork break and the knife bends. Given the sauce, the wings are messy to eat with fingers alone, so I eat three and give up.
On a positive note, it’s lovely to see Tim when he does finally find me, and my motel is far better than I expected. Everyone else is staying down the road at a beautiful looking hotel called Hospitality House. Later they tell me it’s not that great inside. I’d debated over whether to splurge, but given I’m here for five nights, decided I couldn’t throw away money like that. Glad I didn’t. I have two big double beds in my room and it includes WiFi and breakfast, although the breakfast is nothing to write home about. It’s a tad hot though – the heater has been left on, so it’s about the summer temperature of Dubai in there. I have to blast the air conditioner for an hour to stop sweating.
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