DAY EIGHT: Saturday, 11
August 2012
I’d worked
backwards from my 8am flight to work in rental car drop-off, walk from drop-off
point (which had been previously pointed out to me as across the airport
parking lot), the drive to the airport, and the morning shower. I had an early flight, and I expected to be
dealing with a lot of others at the same time, so I made a guestimate. If I set my alarm for 4.30, I’d be leaving
the Palms at 5.00, at the airport by 5.30, and figure ten-to-fifteen minutes to
truck across the parking lot. So I’d
roughly be getting my boarding passes and trying to go through security at 6.00
am.
Best laid plans, they say. First, the damn insomnia I’ve had on and off
all week really hit. Guess I should’ve
had more to drink. Since I couldn’t
sleep anyway, I decided to get up at the unholy hour of 4am, instead of just
laying there in bed. I had even opened
the patio blinds on the off-chance I might be able to see another sunrise. (Just my luck, had I just stayed laying there
in bed, I would’ve drifted off, and slept through my alarm. Hmm, being forced to stay in St. Croix another day as alternate flight arrangements
were being made. Not seeing too much of
an issue with that.)
My last part of the check-out
process from the Palms was nothing more than turning in the room key. Now except for the transfer I took in on the
first night, I hadn’t been on the roads at night. The main route I’d been taking during the day
was 75, so I figured I was familiar with it enough to be able to drive the
hilly and curvy road in the wee hours.
I’d hoped the morning light would be happening when I was going down the
road, but it was too early for that.
The Hertz rental window wasn’t open
until 7am, and the car return location was locked behind a gate. So the place I was instructed to bring the
car back to was not accessible. With not
many options available, I drove the car back to the same “berth” in the parking
lot where I’d picked it up from. Shit,
their lot, their car. I put the keys
over the sun visor, and locked the vehicle.
It was 5.15 am, and the American Airlines counter didn’t even open until
6. Shit, I could’ve (should’ve) had
another drink the night before, but this is the stuff you don’t learn until later.
There were a few people already
waiting in line ahead of me, but once we checked the bags, I was the first one
that got to go through Customs. Yes,
that is correct. Even though I was not
considered to have left United States
soil, I still had to go through Customs before leaving St.
Croix . There was a sign
that said it was required of all citizens returning to the mainland from Puerto
Rico and Virgin Islands . While I wondered if that was also in place
for other overseas territories (like Guam, and places in the Pacific), I
figured the reality was it was there to slow down any drug traffic from
less-reputable Caribbean islands.
I’m glad I brought my passport, as
it made it easier. The Customs agent
asked for proof of identification that I was an American citizen. Got my drivers license or my passport, which
would you prefer, sir? He gave some curt
statement that it takes longer to confirm a state drivers license. Since I’d brought the passport on the
off-chance I’d get over to BVI, I was glad I had it. At least he could’ve stamped the fucking
thing. By not having a suitcase full of
booze, that also got me through quicker (as it didn’t need to be opened up to
be confirmed.) Sure, I did bring some
booze through, but it was only about a liter’s worth of the sampler pack I’d
gotten at Cruzan.
After that, then I got to take my
luggage through security, and then actually my bags were actually “checked”
(where it was placed on a bin to be loaded on the plane, which is usually what
happens at the airline check-in desk).
Then I got to go through the standard security check-point. Once through, I wandered around the waiting
area in the airport to add to some more steps on my pedometer (since I’d be
sitting most of the day). It was many
minutes before the next people came into the waiting area (the people who were
ahead of me in line), which implied their journey through the land of Customs
The television playing in the
waiting area was showing a station out of Miami . There was a program called “Latination”
playing (with the tag line of “The voice of your generation!”), which was not
the voice of my generation nor ethnicity.
The only interesting news story they showed was a group in California (of course)
that decided to play polo on bicycles with long mallets. It actually looked pretty interesting.
I got to see my last sunrise of the
morning as I waiting in the terminal. As
the place filled up with people, I had to stop walking around the area. Most of those people ended getting on the
plane with me. The couple that had
gotten married on Wednesday (and had their receptionist at the Palms) were also
on the flight, with their toddlers.
When I flew in, it was dark, so I
didn’t get a chance to see the island from the air. (Also, as the captain had pointed out when
we’d gone over Turks & Caicos on the way in, which I’d really would’ve
liked to have seen, I looked forward to be able to see it on the way out.) On the flight out of St.
Croix , I had the window seat again, and the wing covered most of
my view, so I wasn’t able to see much of the island. And the sun was beating through the window,
so the shades were kept shut as much as possible to keep the airplane cool.
We went down the runway, and took
off in an easterly direction. That
seemed odd, considering we needed to go the other direction, but maybe that’s
how the runway works down here. Once we
were in the air, we made a hard bank to the right (south) to get back facing
the direction we wanted to go. I could
see the shadow of the plane on the water getting closer, so I first thought we
were heading back to the airport.
Eventually we leveled out, got the altitude we needed, and were on a
westerly heading. Because of the
sunlight coming in the windows and the wing in my way, I figured I wasn’t going
to be able to see Turks & Caicos as we passed over it again. As I said, I would’ve liked to have seen that
from the air.
The camera I have is not easy to
turn off the flash off (like the manual one I used to have), so it would’ve
been harder to take pictures from the air anyways. A dark plane with mostly sleepy people would
really notice the flash going off. Sure
that would be appreciated.
My Ipod had run out of charge at
some point during the week, and I didn’t realize it. I’d never pulled it out to use it the entire
trip. I was sure I had charged it before
I’d left home. With no one else in the
seats next to me, I stretched out as much as I could in order to nap. I didn’t see much, mainly due to the constant
crying of the aforementioned toddlers of the newlyweds, so I was only mildly
rested upon the arrival to Miami .
Because I’d experienced this on the
way out to St. Croix, I was prepared for the wonderfulness that was Miami International
Airport St. Croix duty-free
store before leaving.) This time, there
was about five-times as many people in the airport. I’d seen people who’d been on the plane with
me trying to figure this out, so I was able to help them around. Of course, the entrance to H Concourse was
closed, so we had to go over to I Concourse (and make sure we weren’t in the
line for “international travelers”), and then once through, truck over to
H. This is a reason why I have a
backpack as my carry-on, as it’s easy to hump shit through.
Really, that minor annoyance was
the only issue I had with going through Miami . I did stop into the duty-free store there (as
I didn’t have to go through any security check-points again). Still I didn’t see anything I couldn’t get at
home. The lady at the counter told me
because I technically had not come in from overseas (nor returning to a foreign
country), I wouldn’t be able to purchase anything there. Didn’t hurt to look around, though. After I located where my gate was, I was able
to get some charge into my Ipod while waiting for the flight to Atlanta . It was a little cloudy coming and leaving Miami , but it wasn’t any
significant delays.
Once in Atlanta , I had a long layover, which sucked,
so I found one of the airport pubs to hang in.
I got a burger and took the change to catch up on some of these journal
entries. When it was time to board the
flight to Austin ,
the plane was a little delayed, but again not significantly so. Because it was a later flight, there were a
lot of ornery people who were tired from travelling all day, and I was one of
them. I didn’t want to sleep on the
plane here, because I wanted to be able to sleep once I got home. On the flight to Atlanta , people weren’t very talkative. The flight to Austin
was a little bit better, as the couple next to me had just come from Bermuda , and where showing me shots of that.
After I arrived back in Austin , and I’d gotten my
bag, I hopped on the shuttle back to The Parking Spot. I handed the shuttle-driver my ticket, and
from that he knew where my car was parked.
The lot and space number wasn’t on there, so I have no idea how he knew
that. It was good though, because I
didn’t recall, other than “D Row”). AAA
membership gave me a 25% discount, which had sounded good when I was
researching this before I left. But once
the sales tax was added, as well as the “10% Airport
I originally had made plans to go
to another location upon my arrival, so I wouldn’t be heading back home until
later the next day (one extra night of vacation). Those plans were changed on me, so I had to
head home. With my luggage in the car, I
didn’t want to go any place where I would be leaving it unattended for any
length of time (like one of the local pubs).
Ok, the luggage was in the trunk, because that’s where The Parking Spot
guy put it, but you get the idea.
Since I hadn’t really had any diary
for any entire week, I was jonesing for a good milkshake or some other ice
cream product. As there was a
Baskin-Robbins near the house, I headed that way. (I normally will go to local places over
national chains, but in Austin
the local ice cream chain, Amy’s Ice Cream, has been some of the worst stuff
I’ve had. I don’t visit them because of
that, and there’s not one up in Round Rock that I know of anyway.) As I drove up the highway, I salivated at the
thought of a Reese Peanut Butter Cup Sundae.
Son of a bitch! Baskin-Robbins
had closed a few moments right before I got there. At that point, I started to feel the
exhaustion from the day’s travel. Had I
gone to pub, I’d be feeling it there, no matter how jumpin’ the place might
be. I headed home to my own bed, and the
dog that had missed me all week, and finally collapsed.
For more information on the places visited or mentioned:
Palms at
Pelican Cove: http://www.palmspelicancove.com/
Cycle
Polo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cycle_polo
The Parking
Spot: http://www.theparkingspot.com/
### 30 ###
No comments:
Post a Comment