Traveling

I'm in the San Francisco airport on a layover from San Diego to Redding. I'm very convinced that small airports and tiny airplanes are the way to go. Large airports are crammed pack with people who obviously don't know what they're doing, and long lines are everywhere you go. I was very appalled at the amount of people who didn't quite understand the boarding process. Generally airlines board first clas first, along with business class and people with children or disabilities. Then they board by section. Located on everyone's ticket is a number that tells them the order they board in. 1 is first, 2 is second, 3 is third, 4 is fourth. Apparently this is a difficult concept. I sat fairly close to the boarding area and watched everyone board as I had a number 4 on my ticket. When they boarded number 1, two ladies went to the front of the line, and then stood there while everyone had to go around them. It seemed they were number 2. So exactly why they went to the head of the line when number 1 was called, I guess I'll never know.



So then they called seating area number 2. About 50 people stood up and got in line. As the line progressed, 6 people ended up having to be pulled out of line because they had a number 3 on their ticket. C'mon people!!! Really?! So when I got on board, there was a lady in my seat and her two whiny kids right next to her. Her husband sat in a seat behind them. He asked if I would change my seat with him, so I agreed. Apparently they had bought their tickets so that both children under the age of 5 would be sitting alone with one parent behind them and one parent 6 rows ahead of them. I realize that sometimes this is unavoidable, but they could've talked to a flight attendant prior to boarding to ensure the kids had supervision.

Sitting behind the kids listening to them scream at various times throughout the flight made me wish they imposed fines on families that "disturbed the peace". If they disciplined the darn things early enough in life, they wouldn't be jumping around screaming in an airplane seat 30,ooo feet above the ground. To make it worse, the mother sitting right next to them was apparently incapable of buckling their seat belt because the poor flight attendant had to crawl over the mother and the other child to buckle the seat belt of the one sitting by the window. Are you kidding me? Manage your child!!

So then while I was standing in line at one of the airport shops to buy a bottle of water (for $2.99) so I could take my vicodin, a man in a stroller got behind me and edged way too close. I moved forward as much as I could trying not to invade the space of the person in front of me. I certainly didn't want to get hit by this guy in my current condition. As soon as I moved forward, so did he, bumping right into me. Are we really that retarded? Could he not tell that he was way too close to begin with and that I was moving to avoid getting hit? Do I currently look like a person who yearns to be run over by a stroller? Did I not look pathetic enough?

My Uncle commented on this while we were walking down the street in San Francisco a week or so ago. Most people walking toward me could see exactly how sad and jacked up I looked and would move so that they didn't bump into me. But there were a few people who were absolutely oblivious and charged right at me. Had I not had to good sense to get out of the way, my surgeon would probably be re-doing the wiring in sternum as we speak. I'm not looking for a pity party here, but I don't think it's too much to ask for people not to be running over or bumping into people who are obviously a little broken and dealing with some difficult circumstances. Do we kick the crutches out from underneath the guy with the broken leg? No, we don't. So why is it that some people are drawn to crashing into me while I'm wearing a sling and have a huge exposed scar across my chest?

So after surviving the line in the store, I sat back down and tried to down two vicodin. They're stuck in the bottom of my throat and won't go down completely. I've drank most of this bottle of water and they aren't budging. They're just sitting there... probably not working all that well from there. A flight attendant just asked me if I'd be willing to take a later flight since our flight has a weight restriction issue at the moment. Thanks lady. Even with the few pounds I've gained since getting injured, I don't think me getting off the plane will save us all from going down. I had to decline... and in doing so, declined a free round trip ticket to where ever. Normally I'd jump at it, but I've really got to get out of this airport...