floorpie

“Luck” is a lot like getting good grades in school. As long as you keep that A, you can stay on top forever. Get one C, though, and your GPA is f’ing blown forever. It takes you forever to get back in the game.

Case in point: although I’m going to be getting paid for teh damages done by the first uninsured motorist that hit me in December, the airline has still not found my luggage.

>Besides the obvious inconveniences like losing the clothes and shoes I had in there (which I wasam particularly fond of), I may also lose a few items I really would rather not have lost. Namely, the dock and charging cables for the new camera I got about a week before (note: if you pay as much as this review says, you’re getting ripped off by roughly double). There is also the charger to my cell phone (luckily I have a car charger), the cahrger to my iPod (luckily I have a spare), and a 5G video iPod (I have no “luckily” to go after that one.

I also would be extremely bummed to lose the bag. It is, without a doubt one of the best pieces of luggage I have ever owned, supplanted only by the full-size version I also have. Both were Christmas gifts from ma and pa and I had no idea until just now how much they must have paid for it.

I will keep my fingers crossed that my bag turns up, and un-pilfered. Please feel free to do the same.

David Kleeman not cursed?

CALIFORNIA (AP) – Recently maligned Los Angelino David Kleeman may not be “cursed”, as many pundits have been saying, after all.

In recent months, David Kleeman has suffered an almost uncanny series of emotional, financial, and physical setbacks, including the destruction of his multi-million dollar estate, the unfortunate destruction of a number of his vintage automobiles, as well as the many and various failed relationships with local starlets. Though insiders claim that Kleeman is actually rather proud in regards to the last point, taped phone conversations with an unknown female friend obtained by this news agency, suggest otherwise:

“I dunno, sometimes it just feels like I’ll never find anyone, you know?” a voice identified as David Kleeman is heard saying in a February 13th phone conversation, “I mean, tomorrow is like, Valentine’s Day or whatever, and I totally don’t have a date.” Though the unidentified caller reminded Kleeman that this was due to the inability to choose between several possibilities, Kleeman remained inconsolable.

At any rate, despite these setbacks, things may be looking up for Kleeman. In a new report issued today, evidence suggests that the perpetrator of the first vehicular incident was actually an uninsured motorist, a fact not revealed to Kleeman at the time. As such, because of the impressive insurance coverage necessary at Kleeman’s financial level, the costs of the repairs will be covered under his Uninsured Motorist coverage… thereby exonerating Kleeman of any more financial responsibility.

Kleeman’s attorneys declined to comment on the amount of the pending financial settlement, but David Kleeman himself was quoted as saying, “That’s totally more than a couple of X-box 360’s, yo!”

I was sitting on the floor of my kitchen eating a bowl of cereal for…if “brunch” is between breakfast and lunch, what’s between lunch and dinner? “Lunner”?

I was sitting on the floor of my kitchen eating a bowl of cereal for lunner when I realized why I’ve been sick so much, lately: I’m stressed out.

Over the past 4 or 5 months, I’ve had some fairly stress-inducing occurrences roll through my life; not the least of which was my apartment fire, which explains why I was sitting on the floor in the kitchen… nowhere else to sit.

There has been the fire and the nomadic living situation since then, dealing with the insurance company in regards to said fire, the three car accidents and the money I lost there as well, a successful trip to China, an unsuccessful one, and the however many girls I’ve tried to find love with in the interim.

So far, I’ve dealt with all of them with what I like to think has been a preternatural amount of aplomb. I haven’t cried, yelled, been driven to depression, gained weight, lost weight, or done anything other than roll with all of it, crack the occasional joke at my own expense, and pretty much go on with life as if it all wasn’t a big deal. My friends have been, in short, either amazed or incredulous at my apparent resilience; and I have to admit that I have been, too. Shouldn’t I be feeling all of this more?

So it occurred to me today, sitting on a dirty floor in an apartment that wasn’t really mine, that maybe I am feeling it more than I thought I was, and that’s why I’ve been getting sick. Internally, I’m totally stressed out (I think). Outwardly I’m calm and collected. For the last 4 or 5 months, I’ve been absorbing all of the negativity around me, and not letting it get me down (a good thing). The problem is, I don’t think there’s been an outlet for it (a bad thing) and it’s starting to effect me physically.

I had a girlfriend once who, whenever we had been fighting for some stupid reason or the other, would get a cold sore seemingly from the stress of our conflict. This would only happen after a particularly bad bout of us fighting, and it was a pretty consistent sign as I don’t remember her getting one that didn’t coincide with something like that. Perhaps my getting sick, lately, is similar?

Make no mistake, though, I’m still happy with the way I’ve been able to adapt to all of the adverse stuff in my life, lately, and I’ll take a few colds over freaking out over spilt milk… but I still need to unload some of this stress.

Suggestions?

I spent 6 weeks hours in Asia LAX, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt cold

The above title came to me in a dream last night. I am at once proud for remembering something detailed from a dream, and saddened by the fact that I am abviously dreaming about blogging… instead of Jessica Alba.

My dream also included invading aliens being birthed from old VW vans. Like you would see something expanding to fill the interior through the windows… as if someone were pumping matshmallow cream inside… and then the roof would burst and this insect-like alien thing would grow out and start eating people. Somewhere in there, I got the post title. Or something.

Anyway, the update is as follows: I am still in LA, and decidedly not in China. I cancelled my flights and was refunded (well, my company was refunded) the money as it was a situation entirely out of my control.

My luggage is still in San Francisco, despite my being told that it would be flown back yesterday.

I luckily have an extra toothbrush and toothpaste, which I ironically have because I stole it from the hotel the last time I was in China. Deoderant suppllied by the groomsman supply kit I was given at the last wedding I was in. And that about covers it for toiletries.

Having dealt with the Hong Kong to China border crossing before, and the hassle which that involves, I had better prepared myself for the drudgery (summary: get out of whatever conveyance you arrived in. Wave goodbye, it’s not allowed to cross the border. Stand in line, fill out forms. Hike up a bunch of stairs, dragging your roller bag up a ramp behind you. Walk across the border. Do all of the above again, in reverse) by cramming a week’s worth of clothes into a small bag… instead of two weeks’ worth into a large one. What this means in the short term is that even though it sucks that my luggage is somewhere I am not, I at least have most of my clothes still with me at home.

I’m more nervous, actually, that the baggage handlers, given the amount of time they’ve had my bag, are picking through my stuff, swiping the 5G iPod and other assorted gadgetry.

So long story short, I’m in LA still, I have a cold, and my plans for the week are undetermined. I think I’ve set things up so that my not making this trip will not effect anything adversely… but it is really f’ing frustrating.

Why I’m Still Here, or, How I Spent 6 Hours in LAX and Went Nowhere

International travel should be a competitive sport. You watch The Amazing Race and you think to yourself, “What’s the big deal? You buy a ticket, you go. Sure, they’re racing so that adds some drama, but it’s not like it’s really, you know, difficult.”

I beg to differ.

Tonight, my flight plans included traveling from LAX to San Francisco leaving at 9PM, and then flying from San Francisco to Hong Kong leaving at midnight. This would span two airlines, but that wouldn’t be a problem considering that the entire trip was considered “international” and would be all in the same terminal.

It takes approximately 1 hour, 20 minutes to fly from LA to San Fran, all things considered, which gave me a good hour and half after landing to make my connecting flight.

In an ideal world.

I arrived at the airport the requisite 3 hours early (for international). I immediately checked the board and saw that my flight was delayed until 9:30 due to “airplane availability”. This still gave me a good hour to make my connection, so no big deal. I leisurely waited in line and checked in my bag.

This would be, I would come to realize later, my first mistake. Remember this for later: I checked in a bag that was of carry-on size. I did so for the “convenience”.

I made it through security easily and efficiently as usual. I’ve made it a habit to put everything in my pockets, into my carry-on as I wait in the security line. That way, I drop my bag on the belt and breeze through the metal detector without the fumbling that is the hallmark of the non-frequent traveler (or the family with kids).

I make it to my gate to find the terminal nearly deserted. The restaurants aren’t open, there are no gate agents, and there are literally 4 other people in an area that would otherwise hold hundreds. Even the lights are dimmed, and there is the conspicuous absence of any announcements or music from the loudspeakers. In a word, it’s eerie… but I’m in the right place, and all there is to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait. I check the board again, and see that my flight is now delayed until 10:20, still due to “airplane availability”. This was cutting it close, and would leave me with only 20 minutes to make my connection, but I would have to try. 10:20 was still some 2 hours away so I whiled away the time with walking up and down the terminal glaring at children.

Looking at the board again, the time was the same, but the gate had changed. I wandered to another terminal (this one filled with civilization at least), and decided to talk to customer service about the possibility of getting on an earlier flight so that I could make my connection. I waited in line at the desk for over an hour, methodically working on the sudoku puzzles that I thought I would have had to resort to while flying over the Pacific. Something about a flight to Mexico being canceled and everyone needed hotel rooms so everyone else: please wait.

I remain calm.

I finally get to the front, explain my situation, and am told the following, “That is cutting it close… you will have to run.”

Ah.

“I can at least put you in the front of the plane, though.”

Better.

Around 9:50, we finally start boarding, nearly an hour after our scheduled departure time. I get a great seat on a nearly empty plane and wait. A steward talks the ear off of a Japanese woman at the front and explains his life story. He’s been married to a Japanese woman for 20 years, he used to be an English teacher, the passenger has very good English for being in the country for only a few short months, his wife’s family lives in a village near where the Japanese woman is from, and on and on. The captain looking haggard comes out of the cockpit, stands at the front of the plane, and speaks into the intercom:

“Hi everyone, uh, thank you for your patience, it’s been a long day. So here’s the deal. This plane isn’t supposed to be going where we’re going, it was scheduled for somewhere else, but because of the situation this is the equipment we got. Because of that, this plane has too much fuel on it. The problem is, the fuel truck can’t get in to this gate… if you look out to your right you can see it’s pretty tight out there. So, this is what will probably have to happen: You will all have to de-plane, I’ll have to move the plane to another gate have it de-fueled, and then you all get on again. Or we get a new plane. We’re working on it. I know this is frustrating, and I assure you I’m right there with you. This is the last leg of a 4-day marathon and I want nothing more than to get the hell out of here. I apologize for the delay, and I’ll do the best I can.”

>Murmurs in the crowd. I look at the time: 10:30. There’s no way I’m making my connection.

I stop the chatty steward on his way to the back of the plane and explain my situation. My connection is a red-eye, there are no other flights, we’ll obviously never make it. What do you think? He doesn’t want to tell me what to do, but when I suggest that I might take the opportunity to get off the plane, grab my bags, and sort it all out later, he agrees. I’ve never asked to get off a plane before, but it was surprisingly easy.

Once I’m back out at the gate area, I am greeted by a lot of accusatory stares from passengers apparently waiting for the next flight. Any time you see someone coming the wrong way out of the jetway, you automatically assume that they are the reason for some kind of delay. Wait until they see the rest of the plane pour out after me in a few minutes. I talk to the gate agent, and she tells me that they typically don’t retrieve checked in bags, but considering that everyone would be de-plane-ing, I would be in the unique situation to retrieve mine. Talk to Luggage Services at Baggage Claim.

I make my way downstairs and into Luggage Services. There is a nice older woman who helps me, and a mean younger man who does not. The mean younger man shouts at me, “Your bag is in San Francisco!” “But, uh, I’m still here,” I say, “…and my plane hasn’t even left, yet, or taken on the luggage.” “Your bag is in San Francisco!” he repeats, “It went on another flight three hours ago.”

sigh

The nice older woman gives me a number to call about hopefully retrieving my bag. The bag, you will recall, that I did not have to check, but did so for convenience. By the time I leave Luggage Services and check the board one last time, I see that my flight is still in LAX, now at yet another gate, and not scheduled to leave until 12:22AM… 3 hours and 21 minutes late, and 17 minutes after my connecting flight’s departure.

For all I know, they might still be at the gate, though I assume the stronger passengers have mutinied by now.

So, in summary, I spent the day washing and packing my clothes so that I could spend $40 in cab fare, and 6 hours at the airport, in order to send my luggage on a mini-vacation to San Francisco.

I hope my neatly packed socks are having a good time.

The nice older woman explained to me that bags bound for international flights are not put on planes without their owners, so hopefully my bag is indeed cruising around the Mission district, and not on its way to Hong Kong without me.

More as information becomes available.