The good, the bad and the seriously deranged pilots along our way to and from Charleson, SC
So Ian and I were in Charleston this past weekend for his dad’s wedding. It was a really nice wedding – the place we stayed at was great… very relaxing and organic. The trip there and back, however, was another story. I’ll recount…
Thursday, Sept. 15th
Our flight from Nashville to Atlanta goes well. Ian is able to chug a few beers on the way to the airport so he’s not so nervous. We don’t have to check any luggage, we’re ready to go. On the plane we talked with some body builder – who was 5’5″ and weighed 240 lbs (he told us). We get to Atlanta safe and sound, and had about an hour to kill before our flight to Charleston.
About ten minutes after we should have boarded the plane to Charleston, some chick gets on the mic and says something to the effect of, “We don’t have a plane for your flight, so we’re going to go dig one out of the hangar. It will be about 15 minutes.” An hour later, we board the plane.
And what a plane it was. After an hour of sitting on the plane on the runway, the power failed twice, the windshield was broken, and the cargo door wouldn’t stay shut. This entire time there was no airconditioning. The pilot gets on the horn and assures us this is NORMAL, and happens to old planes like the one we’re on. Yeah, I’m feeling really safe right about now. So finally, two hours after we should have taken off, we start to taxi down the runway. We have to wait a minute because there are a few planes taking off ahead of us, and while we’re waiting – yep – the power fails again. “Oh, we’re just going to have to get maintenance to come out here and make sure we’re ok.” Now, I’m not a mechanic, but I could tell you WE’RE NOT OKAY YOU IDIOT! We finally, somehow, take off and land safely, though I think the pilot was having a few drinks while waiting to take off. It was a little shaky through the air and landing.
Friday and Saturday
The part of the trip where we were actually there was fun. We stayed at the Inn at Middleton Place, as I mentioned in my previous entry, which was great. And they had this awesome lodge that offered wireless internet and free booze and appetizers from 5-7 p.m. The rehearsal dinner was good – I met a lot of Ian’s relatives and some of his dad’s friends. They were all pretty cool. My family totally outranks them in the crazy department, though I don’t know if that’s something I really want bragging rights to.
The wedding on Saturday was really beautiful. It was a simple ceremony (simple enough that the minister called the bride by the wrong name). You say Tiffany, I say Tracy. Maybe now all of her anniversary presents should come from Tiffany’s? Anyway, check out some of the photos of the tree they were married under on the photo album section of my web site.
The reception for the wedding was really fun – I really liked his dad’s friends. A few of them really rocked out to the oldies. YMCA, anyone? Oh, and Lindsey Lohan made an appearance and danced with some white dude who really got into the music:
Sunday – the trip home
So Sunday we headed back home. Got on our flight in Charleston to fly to Cincinnati and it was a freaking fog machine. Seriously, there was smoke and shit coming out of the vents, and Ian and I hollered to the flight attendant, who I really think was on drugs. She finally (without even coming over to look at what we were freaking out about) told us no, dumbasses, it isn’t smoke, it’s the air conditioning. Whatever, lady. We flew that flight in silent terror.
And when we stepped off the plane, we looked at each other. “Fuck it dude, let’s go bowling.” Actually, Ian said he wondered how much it would cost to rent a car and drive our asses to Nashville. A nice information desk receptionist, though stunned at why we’d want to give up our flight, let us use the phone and we found a rental car for less than $100. Fuck you, Delta, we’re taking our chances with the road.
So we shuttled our asses out to Budget, and picked up our blueish-purple pimp-style Impala. That’s right, it was awesome. Ian questioned our whiteness and whether or not we would really be allowed to drive such a vehicle, but I wanted to get home quickly so we jumped in. Here is the Grimace-mobile:
In honor of it’s large-and-in-charge-purple coat, we stopped at a McDonald’s for lunch. I hoped to get some cookies shaped like grimace and paste them to the windshield or something, but I forgot. The car looks blue in this photo, but trust me, it was purple.
Anyway, we made it home safely, and all in all the trip was great. Although now I am not surprised that Delta filed for bankruptcy. I should have taken that as an omen that as we were walking to our gate I saw the news on the front page of every paper. Oh well, it was an adventure, for sure.
Check out the photo album if you haven’t yet – go back to my homepage, http://homepage.mac.com/musaoculta and click on the Charleston page.