Hustle and Bustle ,Flying to St. Croix
Kim and I have a little inside joke about having adventures. She likes to have experiences she's never had before as do I so it's a great match for traveling. The two of us are both easy going for the most part but sometimes I may be slightly "too nice" as she likes to put it. Case in point, when the Charlotte flight attendant tells us to come with them because the plane has brake issues and she is going to redirect our flight plan through another island. I just say, "Sure, ok." Kim meanwhile is reading Heads and Beds, a Reckless Memior of Hotels, Hustles, and So Called Hospitality, she's certain the flight attendant is using "the language".
The attendant tells us we have to move quickly for this to work so we jump up slightly bewildered and gather our bags. All attention is on us. She explains we are the only two aboard headed to St. Croix; we are the only two being escorted off, that's for sure, and its nerve-racking. We follow her to the bridge where she makes a call only to discover I checked a bag, she must of noticed the look of concern on my face because she assures me they'll get it and move it. Kim's still not sold on the whole thing.
So our great seats with leg room, gone, our seats together (which we had to accommodate ourselves with), gone, our two hours on St. Thomas (and new adventure for Kim), gone. Now, we are back in the airport trying to explain to a less enthused agent at the new ticket counter what's going on, trying to get some clarification, and just ready to be there already. Did I mention that it's Sunday, there is no alcohol sold in North Carolina on Sundays until noon. It's 12:15 and we are right across from the Rum restaurant, I would really love a Mojito right now but they just called our section to board.
Once on the plane we finagle our way together once again and settle in. We discuss our conspiracy theories on industry and conclude we just totally got dooped. We laugh and chop it up to another one of our adventures.
The attendant tells us we have to move quickly for this to work so we jump up slightly bewildered and gather our bags. All attention is on us. She explains we are the only two aboard headed to St. Croix; we are the only two being escorted off, that's for sure, and its nerve-racking. We follow her to the bridge where she makes a call only to discover I checked a bag, she must of noticed the look of concern on my face because she assures me they'll get it and move it. Kim's still not sold on the whole thing.
So our great seats with leg room, gone, our seats together (which we had to accommodate ourselves with), gone, our two hours on St. Thomas (and new adventure for Kim), gone. Now, we are back in the airport trying to explain to a less enthused agent at the new ticket counter what's going on, trying to get some clarification, and just ready to be there already. Did I mention that it's Sunday, there is no alcohol sold in North Carolina on Sundays until noon. It's 12:15 and we are right across from the Rum restaurant, I would really love a Mojito right now but they just called our section to board.
Once on the plane we finagle our way together once again and settle in. We discuss our conspiracy theories on industry and conclude we just totally got dooped. We laugh and chop it up to another one of our adventures.
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