As promised.

West Coast travels: Flight from JFK to San Francisco.

My sister had a panic attack at the airport (despite the Valium that was so graciously given to her from a family friend who - for reasons I'd rather not know - has a bottle of them at home). She decides she's "not going to California" but assures her husband and myself that we'll have a great time and she'll gladly pick us up from the airport when we arrive home.

10 days on vacation with my brother-in-law? I'll pass. But thanks.

By the time I convince her she's going and really has no say in decisions regarding this trip, they've locked us out of the plane. Can't really blame them. They called last call for boarding... twice. So I start weighing my options.

A) Fight with whoever I have to to ensure that we get on that flight.
B) Call the airline and see what they can do.
C) Go to jail for murdering my sister in an airport with my bare hands.

Option A it is.

I tell the flight attendant at the adjacent terminal desk to radio the plane and demand that they reopen the door. She radios over: "Sorry ma'am. There's nothing we can do. Once they've locked the doors, that's it." Despite her really sweet southern belle accent, I can sense the attitude she is giving me. I explain to her that my sister is a big baby and that the plane is not scheduled to take off for another half hour anyway. "Sorry ma'am" is the only response I'm getting. Fucking southerners.

Two more terminals down I see a male security guard who looks like he might have a soft spot for my poor, pathetic sister who was early having breathing difficulties due to anxiety and is now having breathing difficulties because she's crying like a little girl with a skinned knee. She "feels really sorry!" and now she "wants to go really badly!" The security guard radios the plane once more and eventually gets the flight attendant to open the door for us. What a peach.

This woman is nothing but sunshine and rainbows. "I'll have you know you've held up our flight and if the other passengers choose to voice their anger in the matter, I'm not going to stop them." Yes, thank you. I'm so glad I'm paying your salary right now. "We've given up your seats and the flight is booked, so you'll have to just take the only three open seats." Awesome.

My sister, the scaredy-cat, sat in the first row in the window seat. Lucky fuck. I sat about 15 rows behind her sandwiched between some stuffy, up-tight business man who frantically attempted to do math in his head while writing spreadsheets. And the kid to my right looks like he was just flying home from the Olympics. Seriously. Red Nike track suit, white Nike baseball hat, white Nike speakers, white Nike backpack. He either likes Nike a whole-helluva-lot or he just got sponsored. My brother-in-law sat another 10 rows behind me on the aisle next to a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.

Jet Blue is pretty sweet because they all have TVs in the back of the headrests. I would have really taken advantage of this had the flight been smoother. We had straight turbulence for almost the entire 5 hour and 40 minute flight. The "fasten seat belt" light never shut off and my brother-in-law had my headphones.

So I watched Sports Center, nearly the only channel (aside from the weather channel) that does not require sound. I had seen the same 17 sports loops over and over. And I have to say, Delgado's pair of three-run home runs against the Astros looked less and less impressive with every replay (and in an almost six hour flight, there were many) only because they both narrowly qualified as home runs.

...And this coming from a Mets fan.

The Olympian next to me almost arrived at the West Coast with a bloody nose. If he leaned on my arm rest one more time resulting in my TV changing its channel, I swore I was going to elbow him so fast in the face he would've been out cold.

*************

After, what seemed to be a hellish morning, we landed in San Francisco where I was ready to ditch my sober sister and her loving husband and let the festivities begin.

Which I did.
(And will write more about that later. Some of us have work to do, you know!)