Alternate Route
Usually we fly Delta or Continental. These guys are located in the “old” airport. As Madrid has grown over the years they have added an expansion wing that is ten minutes down the road but very modern. Sorry, let’s go back to Delta and Continental. Every time we have flown them the plane is full. The plane leaves at about eleven in the morning.
We arrive at nine a.m. and there is a line of two hundred people waiting to board and two (TWO!) people dealing with arrivals.
“Where did all these people come from? My God, if only we had known months in advance that customers would fill up the plane! All these people must have bought their tickets yesterday! If only we had known we could have put more people on to receive and process them!”
Idiots. Every time.
Despite arriving two hours ahead of schedule, we always barely make it through security and barely make it onto our plane in time.
After our last trip on Delta, we swore not to fly an American carrier again. There just HAS to be a better way.
Normally –
9:00 – Arrive at airport and stand in insanely long line. Get asked inane questions like “When was the last time your shoes exploded? Did you allow a Muslim to pack your luggage? How long have you known this woman? She looks a little dark… Are you sure she’s not a terrorist?”
10:30 Rush to security, empty pockets, take off shoes, remove computers from backpack, etc. (Tip : Wear shoes that are easy to remove and put back on. Wear pants that don't require a belt. Pee before you leave the house.)
10:55 Board plane.
4:00 (Eastern time) Arrive in Newark. Collect bags and check through security again. Make way to restaurant for dinner. Hang out for a long ass time. Make fun of young, hip, New Jersey couple talking on cell phones instead of to each other.
9:50 board plane to Vermont. (Notice the five hour and fifty minute layover.)
10:50 Greet parents who have kindly offered to pick us up at airport.
11:50 Arrive home.
12:00 Wendy falls into a deep sleep. I, for some reason, cannot. Wander around downstairs looking at all our cool pictures. Pet the dogs (who really couldn't care less. Worst… dogs… ever…) Open a bottle of wine. Browse the web. Realize I have reached the end of the internet. Go upstairs and fall into a light sleep.
2:00 a.m. Wake up for no rational reason.
3:00 a.m. Wake up again. Wander around downstairs for half an hour. Drink another glass of wine. (I'm not a drunk, I'm an insomniac.)
5:00 wake up again. Wendy is now up and since it’s eleven a.m. Madrid time decide to get up for the day.
This time, we are determined not to spend two hours in line for no fucking reason, and not spend five hours and fifty minutes in Newark, one of the (documented) worst airports in the world.
Our options are to
1. Fly to England, then New York, then Vermont.
2. Fly to Atlanta, then New York then Vermont
3. Fly to Philadelphia then New York then Vermont.
4. Fly to Boston.
We arrive at nine a.m. and there is a line of two hundred people waiting to board and two (TWO!) people dealing with arrivals.
“Where did all these people come from? My God, if only we had known months in advance that customers would fill up the plane! All these people must have bought their tickets yesterday! If only we had known we could have put more people on to receive and process them!”
Idiots. Every time.
Despite arriving two hours ahead of schedule, we always barely make it through security and barely make it onto our plane in time.
After our last trip on Delta, we swore not to fly an American carrier again. There just HAS to be a better way.
Normally –
9:00 – Arrive at airport and stand in insanely long line. Get asked inane questions like “When was the last time your shoes exploded? Did you allow a Muslim to pack your luggage? How long have you known this woman? She looks a little dark… Are you sure she’s not a terrorist?”
10:30 Rush to security, empty pockets, take off shoes, remove computers from backpack, etc. (Tip : Wear shoes that are easy to remove and put back on. Wear pants that don't require a belt. Pee before you leave the house.)
10:55 Board plane.
4:00 (Eastern time) Arrive in Newark. Collect bags and check through security again. Make way to restaurant for dinner. Hang out for a long ass time. Make fun of young, hip, New Jersey couple talking on cell phones instead of to each other.
9:50 board plane to Vermont. (Notice the five hour and fifty minute layover.)
10:50 Greet parents who have kindly offered to pick us up at airport.
11:50 Arrive home.
12:00 Wendy falls into a deep sleep. I, for some reason, cannot. Wander around downstairs looking at all our cool pictures. Pet the dogs (who really couldn't care less. Worst… dogs… ever…) Open a bottle of wine. Browse the web. Realize I have reached the end of the internet. Go upstairs and fall into a light sleep.
2:00 a.m. Wake up for no rational reason.
3:00 a.m. Wake up again. Wander around downstairs for half an hour. Drink another glass of wine. (I'm not a drunk, I'm an insomniac.)
5:00 wake up again. Wendy is now up and since it’s eleven a.m. Madrid time decide to get up for the day.
This time, we are determined not to spend two hours in line for no fucking reason, and not spend five hours and fifty minutes in Newark, one of the (documented) worst airports in the world.
Our options are to
1. Fly to England, then New York, then Vermont.
2. Fly to Atlanta, then New York then Vermont
3. Fly to Philadelphia then New York then Vermont.
4. Fly to Boston.
Boston. Nuff said.
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