The End

So our honeymoon is almost over. All we have left is the trip home. Rolling out of bed at 4a was tough. We were picked up by another unprofessional driver in an Econoline van. He put our luggage on the first bench seat and put us in the 2nd bench so that we were about 10 feet away from him. Odd. It was already about 120% humidity and there was no air in the van. Jon asked him to turn it on a little and he turned it on high - and left it that way for the 30 minute drive. Then we arrive at the airport and Jon pulls out his credit card, as we'd established with the last driver that we could pay that way. And he looked at us like we were nuts. The office isn't open right now, I can't call in your credit card. Can we call it in later? How am I supposed to get paid? I need to get paid now. After a few minutes of this banter, I turned to Jon and told him to just fork over some cash and be done. Argh! Never using this driving service again.

So we drag our bags inside and grab an open kiosk to check in. Only the computer can't find us. Not by swiping my credit card, not my confirmation number, not by flight number, not by city of final destination . . . OK, it's 5a and I'm pissed. We get sent to another line to wait for a woman to check us in. First she asks for my confirmation number, so I reach into my bag for my planner and she says, can I have your ID? So then I open the wallet in my hand and she's staring at me like, hurry it up. Which do you want?? Five minutes of no talking and she wants our bags. I had two carry-ons, one checked. Jon has one carry-on, two checked. But one of his checked is a duffel with our dirty clothes. So the lady says, it's $25 for the second bag. I turned to Jon and said, that's ridiculous. Just carry the duffel on. Jon says no, and the lady, who has now had our IDs, both military, for at least 5 minutes says, I'm going to comp it because he's military. Now you're going to comp it? It's not like you just found out he's military! Are you charging us or not? Now I'm exhausted and really steamed. We're supposed to drag our bags around the corner and drop them off at one of the old-school scanners in the lobby. So we take our bags to the scanner and it's roped off with the world's giantest pile of checked bags I've ever seen. There are a few agents behind the ropes wiping the bags down with those cloths that tell you if they're contaminated with bomb materials. And one lady is yelling, drop your bag and keep moving, over and over. OMG! My blood is boiling.

We make it to the gate area and, as I've just bought my Northwest Club membership, we head for the Delta Crown Room to spend the extra hour+. I haven't gotten my card in the mail yet, so I show the woman my purchase receipt. And she insists on calling the Northwest Club to confirm my membership. What is up with people second guessing me today? Finally we get checked in and I wander off to a lonely corner, pull out my mP3 player and put on Joshua Radin. A few minutes with my coffee and my chill music and I'm finally calmed down. And I've found a new Southern glamour magazine in the Crown Room that is hilarious. I read twice that hairnets are good accessories!

We make it to LAX and we have to get a shuttle bus to the commuter terminal. The saddest terminal I've ever seen in my life. It's the size of our apartment, all of the gates are the same number, and the jet way is one of those plastic tunnels you can buy for kids for $20. We figure out where to get the shuttle bus, and the doors out to the runway are roped off, there's a chair with no one in it and that's it. It's in between two other doors. After standing there for 15 minutes and getting no one to pay any attention to us, Jon checks with one of the 6 gate agents 10 feet away from us. Oh, the bus comes every fifteen minutes. Just wait there. A few more people gather, we wait, and wait, and wait. 45 minutes goes by! Finally our bus driver arrives, speaking about 4 works of English. He tells us to wait there and disappears. Another 15 minutes go by and he's just gone! Finally I see him escorting a young woman off of the plane at the next gate. He walks her to the desk agent, stands with her for a while. OK, come on! It's been an hour, our plane is supposed to leave in 15 minutes and there are now a good 10 of us staring at the bus driver 15 feet away. A gate agent across the desk from him comes on the PA system, turns to face us, and starts talking. We can't hear a word she's saying. We're all making we-can't-hear-you sign language, but she ignores us. So I walk over to say, excuse me, we can't hear you. What did you say? And she repeats the whole message about flight number yada yada . . . she's not talking to me, she's repeating her announcement. Thanks, lady. And when she finishes, I say, yeah, good. We've been waiting for an hour. The bus driver is about 1 foot from me and hears everything. And I storm away.

We make it to our ghetto gate, get in line to board, and the woman takes one look at our tickets, printed on Delta paper, and tells us to go see the gate agent. Um, OK. So the gate agent looks at our tickets (it's an American Eagle flight), says Oooh, and throws our tickets away. Then she prints another set of identical tickets, on American Eagle paper, and hands them over. Literally, exactly the same!! Whatever. Finally on the 10 foot by 4 foot plane and we're out, asleep. For the full 35 minute flight to San Diego.

Wait, it's not over yet! We have to sit on the plane for about 10 minutes before we can get off. And our windows overlook the baggage unload area. A woman is standing at the bottom of the conveyor belt grabbing the bags as they come down and tossing them on a truck. Our bags are there! After the insanity in Orlando, we weren't sure if our luggage would be arriving. Meanwhile, the lady is missing about every 3rd bag, letting them drop 3 feet to the pavement. Good thing we have nothing breakable in there!

We finally get off, grab our bags and head out to the curb to get the shuttle bus to long term parking. Because we came into the commuter terminal, we have to call to request a pick up. But I've never waited for more than 10 minutes, so I'm not worried. Well, 30 minutes later, Jon calls back. The same Hertz driver came by about 15 times and as we were the only two waiting, he didn't even bother to stop. He knew us well. FINALLY our shuttle shows up. We get to our car. And on the way there, we pass 2 other shuttles and then see 3 parked in the long term lot with drivers sitting on them, waiting for people. And no one could come pick us up??

So we finally make it home, and there's an envelope stuffed into our door. Remember the rent check craziness? I open the envelope and it's our rent check. Apparently the second time around, Jon forgot to add the extra $50 to the $1800 and the office wouldn't take our check. There's a letter included telling us we have 3 days to pay our rent or be evicted. And there's a message on our answering machine. OK, it's now June 8th. I know they have our cell phone numbers on file because I had to complete an extra form with them and I kept a copy. Did they call them? No. Did they take any action? No. OMG. I hate our management. I send Jon down with a 3rd rent check and he tells the property manager that we have cell phones and in the future, she should call us on them. Come on, lady!

Meanwhile, I've started the laundry, changed into comfy clothes and am completely collapsed on the couch, where I remain for rest of the day. Ahh, it's nice to be home.