Nothing like waking up on a big travel day to freezing rain, a layer of ice outside the front door and hyperventilating weather and traffic reporters wall-to-wall on the radio. Much ado about nothing, as the sidewalk outside the door was apparently the only place that was actually icy; everywhere else it was simply cold, gray and drippy. These people must surely get off on panic.
The trip to the airport was remarkably uneventful. Check-in, the usual kafkaesque clusterf*ck.
"Please proceed to the next automatic check-in kiosk; you can check yourself in quickly and easily..." said the cheery matron with the walkie-talkie. Intrepid traveler complies with instructions; kiosk does not recognize any information provided, helpfully informs me that an airline agent [e.g., human being] must assist me. Different cheery matron instructs me to proceed to automatic check-in kiosk to check myself in first before they help me, despite...oh screw it. A third helpful matron suggested I was at the wrong check-in, that in fact I was actually looking for their competitor on the same route. Thanks, ladies. You think, you know, like, I CAN'T READ the information on the piece of paper I'm holding in front of me?
Rinse, lather, repeat. I'm not sensing the value-add here, and I'm a big fan of self service and autonomy and all that.
Finally sitting at the gate, we hurry up and wait. Oh, and by the way, f*ck CNN, that ubiquitous, gibbering suppurating pustule infesting all public spaces.
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