Airport 2016 - 2/1/2016

I am home now, and ready to type the bookend blog to where I began on that wintry, scary Saturday afternoon,, and today's "adventure" was a real doozy, so brace yourselves as I refer to my handwritten, semi-legible notes. Nobody should get a 5:00 AM wake-up call that leads to the kind of exhausting exciting day that we had, but we're not nobodies anymore. We're picked up at 6:00 AM, hoping to get to the airport at 6:45, allowing plenty of time for an 8:15 departure.  One would think...Boarding was supposed to take place at 7:45, and at 9:00 AM, I'm still at the terminal, considering how to blog this. First of all, I didn't have time to blog last night, was too tired,  and last night was the best night of the week. We dined with Cathy and Patty, and got to meet Sagi's new husband, Asaf.  They're on their honeymoon and I'm equally smitten with both of these wonderful guys..photo to follow. Sagi is such a gentle soul, such a handsome OB/GYN that I wanted to get a PAP smear right there on the premises.  Asaf works in film, in post-production. I always meet my kind of people with fun occupations!  Asaf just finished work on "Zoolander 2" and "Beasts of No Nation" and a Meg Ryan movie that she directs. We were joined by staff members, the Elvis impersonator from Holland and the french woman from reception, Melody, who sped off without her keys for burlesque. (A wonderful burlesque show) An atmosphere like this makes one feel like they're with life long friends. Anyway, flash forward to this morning, when Cathy herds us to the area for our airport departure.  We weren't given a traditional Club Med sendoff..no drink, hug, song, thank you, or cutting of the wristband. Just confusion and chaos.    The husbands say they've arranged for a private taxi and we'd just catch up with them at the airport.  The sisters get in the Club Med arranged car--which takes off without us.  It's no problem, really, we share the cab without any extra costs and the wonderful company of the newlyweds. And this is where the adventure begins. Suffice to say the we started off as the CM 6--three teams of travelers who went to Guadeloupe for Club Med.  (The husbands, the sisters, and the zhlubs from NJ, aka NY) And by the end of the ordeal, I knew everyone bound for JFK no matter where they had just vacationed on the island.  I knew their frustrations, their middle names, and where they went to high school. I have invited them over for dinner and "et cetera" as soon as things settle in. Cathy and Patty's were the first team to arrive, and they looked like they were in the shortest line, so the husbands and Jim and I join them.  Much to the chagrin of a guy who acted like we cut in line at Disney..we were all JFK bound, we all had to wait in long equal lines.  (It was then that we realized we were mistakedly standing in the handicapped line, and at least  mentally, I thought I was in the right place.)  But we leave, and Jim can't get the damn wrist band off, and I yell "does anyone have a knife or sharp scissors?" and I can't believe I wasn't arrested. Cathy kidded that the OB GYN surgeon should remove the band, and once again, a little too loudly, I suggest that "it's not a vagina but a wrist band." (ooh..these sound bytes, they just don't quit) I note the time:  We were supposed to actually be in the air by now. We finally make it to luggage check-in, after someone realized that just one agent with language issues wasn't going to be able to help 100-plus  people board on time. The agent tells us to "ignore the instructions to go to gate 9, we are now at gate 11" I get a great pat down and Jim gets shit for wearing a knee brace. And we then arrive at our departure Gate, 11, where everyone is smiling and bursting with anticipation as they're getting ready to board their flight..to Puerto Rico.  Mind you, we had to walk through an endless lovely but outdoor corridor to get here.  The agent is visibly panicked, and she and Jim run through the terminal like OJ Simpson in a Hertz commercial, and I'm thinking the only thing I have in common with OJ is that I too, am going to deny  two murders that I'm about to commit.. You cannot make this shit up.  I only make shit up if it's about the "Before" trilogy.  I still have a bruised leg from when Jim kicked me last night, when I asked Elvis if any movies stars visit Guadeloupe, and he said ony French ones, and I reply without missing a beat, "oh, rumor has it that Julie Delpy was just here." Jim and the agent are running and asking officials to "hold that plane!!" and guess what?  We wind up back in the terminal, where we started, with everyone else.I loved spending time with the ultra charming Sagi, discussing life in Israel and US politics and female anatomy. I had a fantasy about being in his stirrups. I wouldn't have the confidence of a Halle Berry, nor the confidence of a Gabby Sidoubey who nevertheless didn't want a weight/health lecture, so I'd be in between, and I'd know Sagi would be a professional and would only flirt or judge if I looked like Oscar-deserving Idris Elba. We're back at the gate, all of us now.  People are shopping.  People are trying to make arrangements where to stay on the island. I am blogging, with inadequate note paper..I can' even read what I wrote this morning.  A new line is forming and the CM 6 are doing our own thing, ignoring the fact that the line is growing shorter. This time the walk in the outdoor corridor isn't so pleasant.  This time it's freaking HOT out there. We board, and the pilot looks PISSED. He tells us he's been waiting on tarmac for over two hours and nobody told him anything. He apologized for the mess, and I was wondering how quickly his anger would subside--is he OK to fly this damn thing?-- when I heard Cathy ask about free food because of the inconvenience.  Sagi's seat is taken. Jim has no room for his lap top.  Jim  had to stow my pocketbook under my seat, cramming it in to the point where he smashed the toes of the passenger behind me.  Plus, I've inherited my Mom's schtick about pocketbooks, and I was afraid the guy might try to rummage through mine and steal a tube of lipstick I've had in there since 1972. Guess what?  The seat belt fit with room to spare.  It fit because:  A) I am not a sumo wrestler, even 'though I won't let Jim post a pool pic where I look like one B) If you live on fois gras and "worked tomatoes" you probably haven't gained any vacation weight. C) Norwegian Airline is very passenger friendly..it almost sent us to Puerto Rico for free. I am ignorning the flight safety instructions(I always do) and writing like the madwoman that I am. We are in the air.  The pilot is no longer pissed.  Thanks again to Christine Christine Cherry Hommel who gave us an ending that belongs in a Marx Brothers movie. Update: I am now home, facing laundry and an overloaded DVR..and wondering where I can get Bananas of Grated Cheese until I have time to food shop.