Category Archives: Airports

Bumped off a flight going to visit Joe

My dad drives me to the airport where I plan to take a flight to D.C. to visit Joe. When I’m checking in I realize that I don’t have any luggage. I’m holding a disorganized sheaf of papers, and I shove them into my empty backpack. (Where is my laptop?)

When I get to the ticket counter to check in, the gate attendant tells me that the flight is oversold. She checks my reservation and tells me that because I used frequent flyer miles to purchase the ticket, I will be bumped off the flight in favor of paying customers. At this point I notice that my ticket is to Atlanta, and I really want to go to D.C. I ask her what sort of compensation they will provide if I am bumped, and if they will arrange for me to get to D.C. instead. I think that this could work out well for me, as I obviously made a mistake in booking my travel.

I go down a flight of stairs at the airport to go back outside and meet my dad. Walking down the stairs, I pass by Maya Angelou and her entourage. I realize that they are on the flight to Atlanta.

I get into the back seat of my dad’s minivan because my mother is in the front seat. They both drive me home so I can pick up my suitcase.

San Francisco

I am visiting Friedman in San Francisco. We attend a movie in a theater together. Part way through the movie the projector breaks or something goes wrong, and so they turn all the lights on in the theater and everyone has to leave.

I go and gather up a bunch of my stuff like some books and a bag. I’m standing around outside while Friedman goes and gets a refund for our tickets. While I’m waiting a bus pulls up and I get on.

The bus starts driving toward the airport and the bus driver announces that they have a new direct flight to MInneapolis. I become very anxious because I think that the bus is going to Minneapolis and I have no way to tell Friedman where I am. I ask the man in a suit sitting next to me if this is really an airplane and he says no, this is just a bus that is going to a different neighborhood. While I’m talking to him the bottom of my shoe brushes his pant leg and gets dirt on him, and he yells at me to be more careful as he brushes it off.

I’m still worried that I don’t have any way to tell Friedman where I am. I start digging through my bag trying to find a cell phone. There are two phones in there but neither of them work, and anyway I don’t know his number. Both of the phones are cheap gray plastic, like old Startacs.

Later, Evan, Josh and I decide to have a party. I walk around saying hi to everyone I know. I go downstairs to the bar, and the Indian woman who lives on my floor is working as the bartender. I ask her if she has rosé and she gives me a glass. I go back upstairs and I see that the drink machine isn’t working. It’s supposed to be making frozen margaritas but there isn’t any ice. I start dumping ice into the machine, but it’s incredibly loud and gets ice all over everything, like handfuls of crushed ice are coming out in clumps from the back of the machine. When Evan comes over I tell him that since we’re in San Francisco we should have invited Shane to the party, and he just laughs.

Airport Story

I’m at the airport waiting to check in to fly from New York to Minneapolis. I wait in a long line to check in and get my boarding pass. Once I’m through the line I realize that I’ve forgotten something at home, so I keep my bag with me.

I drive home through streets with a thick sheet of ice on them. The car slips and slides across the lanes.

When I get home I frantically pick out some clothes to wear. I have a whole closet full of pants and sweaters in different colors, but it’s hard to pick out new combinations that match with my shoes, and I wind up wearing the same things all the time. I choose a couple of different outfits and race back to the airport.

When I arrive at the airport I check my watch; it’s about 5:45 and the flight leaves at 6:05. I dash down a long hallway, like in a hotel, and get to a junction where I need to follow the signs to my gate. The sign pointing to Gate 6 leads to a door, and when I open it I see that I have to go down a long flight of stairs. I look around to see if maybe I’ve gotten the directions wrong, but it turns out I have to drag my bag down the stairs with me. I’m super annoyed about this.

I return to the gate and ask if I can still check my bag before the flight leaves. There is another man in line ahead of me and he’s still checking in. His last name is McGrane too even though I’ve never seen him before. When I hand over my frequent flyer card to the gate agent he looks at it and says it doesn’t look any different from the card belonging to this stranger. I respond “It isn’t, except the name.”

The Young Dean

I’m at a college and I am talking to the dean (an older man) about information architecture and tagging. I tell him the term used now is “folksonomy.” While I am talking to him he turns into a younger man who starts flirting with me. He tells me he went to Harvard in a tone that implies I should be impressed.

I am staying in a dorm that is not unlike a hotel, with a large grand lobby and security that checks your ID before you get to the elevators. I go back to my room and I fear I have lost my keys. I go to the college bookstore and start looking around for them. I am reorganizing the book bags and backpacks when a salesclerk comes over to help me. I tell her I am looking for my keys.

I get a small knife for my keychain. It is just like the Cryovac penknives my father used to have, but it’s only about an inch long. I get it because they will let me take it through airport security.

I run into the young dean at the bookstore and he takes me back to my dorm in his car. He’s not quite sure where to go and he makes a wrong turn. We drive down a residential street with tiny houses on it. They are shaped like normal houses with shutters and a roof, but they appear to be only one small room. He says he doesn’t understand why students would live in a dorm room when they could have their own home.

I tell him I keep a blog on the internet where I write down all my dreams. He seems surprised and interested so I give him the address.

My Mother’s New House

I am visiting my mother and she lives in a new house. The house is fabulous, opulent. There are many cases and display areas for expensive art and pottery, and my mother shows me around and points out all the decor. It is lovely and very appropriate, not over-the-top and tasteless.

I am planning to catch a flight to Los Angeles and I say that I will pick up some jewelry for my mother while I’m there. She describes what’s she’s looking for; she wants gold rings with semi-precious gems like moonstones in them. I decide to take a shower before I leave, and the shower is in the middle of the room, with a round curtain enclosing it.

As I’m about to begin showering, a number of groups of people start coming in and out of the room, and I feel uncomfortable about using the shower in the middle of it all. It seems that people are coming from overseas for a competition that maybe has something to do with all the art my mother owns.

A group of young women arrive and they seem like the “mean girls” to me. They are making nasty and insulting comments about some of the other contestants, particularly about other young women who are not as cool as they are. Then an older south asian man arrives and they are particularly cruel to him.

Visiting Africa

I am attending a funeral for Harry’s father. I don’t want anyone to see me so I hide in the back, and then I step outside and mill around in the lobby. Outside the actual funeral service there are a number of stations set up with food and drink. I think that Jewish funerals are surprisingly well-catered. I start drinking some kind of vodka and orange juice drink, and I try to hide the fact that I’m getting drunk when people start to come out.

I visit Africa to see how my donations to Kiva.org are being used. I’m walking through the airport and trying to figure out where I’m supposed to go. I have a folder of information about the donations that use charts and graphs. I show the folder to Scott and he makes fun of it, saying something like "well, I can tell from these charts that there’s money involved." I tell him that makes me feel bad, because the work I’m trying to do in Africa is important to me. I am treated very well by all the people I talk to.

China Trip

I’m visiting China with my mother and a group of other family members. I can see where we are and where we’re going on a map.

We have a guide who is very helpful and polite, but also a Christian. I make a joke to my mother about how they have "Thank the Lord Jesus Christ" printed on everything, but I feel bad when he overhears me.

China seems to be all about finding cheap watches and sheets. Many of the watches don’t work. I am excited to find a Gucci watch that I would wear, but when I take it out of the package the whole watch face moves around inside the casing.

And coffee, they are always trying to give us bad coffee, perhaps because we’re Americans.

Someone on our trip thinks she can make a mandala like the monks do. She thinks it will be easy to just run the sand out.

Angry airplane man

I’m in an airport that’s like a big fancy conference center, all high ceilings and long hallways. I don’t have my boarding pass but I get on the plane anyway. I’m in first class and I ask the flight attendant if she can print it out again for me.

There’s a man who’s really angry about this. He attacks me and my friend, he urinates on us. We’re furious.

The plane gets grounded and we all have to get out and walk across a frozen lake. I keep trying to tell the flight attendant about the evil angry man.

I finally get on a connecting flight through Albany to get home.

Late for a time-traveling flight

Chris B. is helping me get on this old-fashioned airplane that is
actually a time machine. I’m worried that I’ll be late for the flight. She tells me "You have a ticket on a time machine that goes around
the world. You’re not going to miss it."

The place where the plane takes
off from is in the same building as a  charm school run by an
imperious French woman. To get inside the building she makes us both stand up very
straight.

I’m really annoyed and try to avoid doing it because I
want to get into the building quickly and get on the plane. The headmistress is angry with me.

Later,  I get a terrible rash on my legs. I think that the headmistress is responsible for giving me the
rash.

I can’t find my ticket and I’m
rummaging through both my suitcase and Chris’s suitcase for it.

Anxiety about moving forward

I ask my mother and another woman (like an aunt) if I should get pregnant. They slowly nod their heads and agree that I should.

I’m walking through a mall, trying to find how to get upstairs to the second level.

I’m with Harry and my mother trying to get onboard a plane. Harry gets on ahead of us, and then my mother and I can’t board.

San Francisco office landscape

I tell Mark that I am not taking the job, but I hope we can still be friends. We hug. Then we kiss. We start dating. But he’s gay.

I’m working for a hotel chain, traveling all over the world. I fly from San Francisco to Dubai.

Mark and I have sex on a kitchen counter. I give him a blowjob.

I know he’s cheating on me. I confront him about the fact that he’s dating men on the side.

I’m working in a big office building in San Francisco. There are lots of agencies that work in this building. I’m navigating through a huge space of blue-lit cubicles.

Missed flight due to birds

I’m visiting Susie and her family in some LA type city.

A pedophile-type guy is after young boys and girls, and it’s scary.

They have these birds in an aviary. The birds are cartoon-like, giant stuffed toucans.

I need to leave and catch my flight.

I can see a map of where I need to go. I think I’m in LA but really it’s a map of Europe.

I’m late for my flight, even though it’s three hours away. It’s 5pm and the flight doesnt leave until 8pm.

I’m trying to leave but my bags are broken. The birds have pecked at the straps and now the straps don’t hold together.

It’s 6pm and I’m worried that I’ve missed my flight.

Late for a flight

I’m in Costa Rica.
I have a new suitcase, I’m packing.
Traveling with friends.
I’m late for my flight, going to miss my flight, packing, trying to make my flight.

Feelings for a man: love, want to impress
Feelings for a woman: reassurance, want security