Like I mentioned before, though, “Bluegrass” for that bar was the biggest misnomer since “Barenaked Ladies.” The music was not remotely close to bluegrass, but the burgers were exactly what the doctor ordered in getting re-acclimated to the United States. It was huge and fabulous.
The JG crew gave me an awesome card – drawn by Tim, my neighbor-colleague – with an FSU theme. How cool is that? 
We had a fantastic turnout, too – really, all the US/Aussie/NZ and GBers. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
The next day, I got up before bright and early and headed out. Had no trouble catching a cab, and really, despite the fact the travel day was longer than any other I’ve experienced, it went just fine.
The CAN airport – I still don’t know the city name – was nothing like I’d read. Sure, I couldn’t get free Internet, but they had drinkable water, a pleasant atmosphere and a nice place to curl up and read Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and eat Polo mints, on which I’d restocked one last time.
Re-entry to the States was typical – a rude border guard. Sheesh. And upon arrival to LAX I learned my bag had been checked improperly and I had to exit the airport and walk the length of what seemed like eight football fields to re-check it, but it really wasn’t that long.
On the flight to LAX, I sat next to this nice guy who was a Cape Town born New Zealander who lived in Perth. He was traveling to Atlanta, too (though not on my flight) and looking at colleges for soccer scholarships. Really nice guy.
The only bumps in my trip were from LAX on. That airport was absolutely packed with late-leaving flights. Mine had been scheduled for 11:50 p.m., but we left late.
I really wish gate agents would be more vigilant about letting people on with huge carry-on bags. They say they have these strict rules, but holy smokes, there were so many let on that did not fit the overhead bins, these people had to deplane, check their bags and then get on again.
As a result, we left late into headwinds and for four hours, I sat and watched the little “arrival” time display get pushed back to where I was pretty sure I had little chance of making my connection.
Once we finally got into Atlanta and deplaned – at Terminal T – I knew a visit to Chick-Fil-A was an impossibility because I had exactly 15 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave.
Holy smokes. I was hoping it would be late since everyone was late arriving, but the little sign that directed me to Terminal D didn’t mention that.
If you remember the Atlanta airport, you remember that T is before A, and once to A I still had to get through B and C before getting to D, taking a right and running down to gate 42 – when 46 is the last gate.
When I rushed up, fortunately, the gate agent hadn’t shut the door, but he was pulling it shut at that very moment. I pretty much shouted “No! Please wait!” and he looked up and held it for m.e I ran by him, thanking him as I got on. (I’ve since written Delta a thank-you note for him).
Out of breath, I panted to the flight attendant that I knew there was no way in hell my bag would make it but I just didn’t care.
And it didn’t, but it made it on the next flight, which was OK because in between the flights, I wound up going with my mom to Ace Hardware (not at all like the one in Indonesia) to pick up another puppy from Wendy.
Someone had thrown this little pup – Jakarta rats would eat her alive – from a movie car with her brothers and sisters. She’s the only one who made it, and now she’s a feisty monster. We’re calling her Batgirl, and when she and Rally tussle, she sounds like an angry beehive.
My mom thinks I’m taking her to North Dakota, but no way. She’s cold and it’s April in Florida. She can’t weigh two pounds.
On ND, I’ve found out I will be leaving here on June 8. Instead of flying me to Chicago for training, they are just going to have me drive there and then drive on to ND after, which would put my start date at June 18. I can deal with that: I’m ready to get going.
In the meantime, I’m eating. I’ve been out to a meal once a day since I got here. Granny’s Frying Pan twice (once was takeout between yard work), the Tomato Café, Chick-Fil-A (I had a wrap for the first time – those things are big enough for three meals) and Connie’s Ham.
Oh, pig ass. I have missed pork so much.
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