Who is interested in some live blogging from the Great Plains? Nobody? No takers?
So I’m finally online, reviewing my materials for tomorrow’s shoot. It’s been a long ass day. I worked until 1, then raced home to take down the bathroom lights (in all 3 bathrooms) so the contractor can do the drywall repair tomorrow. I also had to pack for the trip, take out a shitload of trash, break down some boxes, take care of the animals, and get a haircut. I got everything done but the haircut, finally leaving the house at 3:30. My flight was scheduled for 4:20…so yeah, I fucked that up. I thought I could jump on the plane in no time at all considering that I only have two carry-on bags. Wrong.
Parking took forever. They had blocked off most of the parking deck and routed everyone to an obscure wing of the garage near the OTHER terminal. Had to circle for a few minutes to find a terrible spot with a pole in it. It’s absurd. 3:50 I run to the terminal and look for the check-in desk. Naturally, my airline is all the way at the far end. More running. Get there, use the touch screen, find out I’m too late to check in via the kiosk. Fuck. I wait in line for a human, who is very doubtful I’ll make the flight but gives me the boarding pass anyway. 3:55. Run like hell to the security checkpoint…and find a huge-ass line. I untie my shoes and start thinking of the reasons why I missed the flight: forest fire, hit a peacock with my car, broke my coccyx, etc. The line moves reasonably well and I get to the scanners. I rip my laptop out, throw my shit into the machine and leap through the detector. Shoes back on, laptop back in the bag, more running. 4:10. I sprint down the concourse, weaving like a madman, yelling “excuse me” and “sorry, sorry, sorry” as I go. I was THAT guy. I make it to the gate, crash into the counter at full speed.
“Kansas City!” I pant. The door is closed. Fuck. 4:12. Amazingly, the guy lets me on the plane. He said I made it by less than 90 seconds. That’s the last time I use the “get to the airport 25 minutes before departure method.” Dumbass.
The Kansas City Intl airport is weird. I immediately notice that the gate is fully enclosed by glass partitions. The only way in is a security station. I finally navigate to the (guarded) exit and get to the concourse. It seems each gate has it’s own security checkpoint. WTF? I see how this could be awesome when you’re running late (see above) and you don’t have to wait in line behind those people who are responsibly early. But, I arrived at gate 72. Are there 72+ security stations? Where do you get the budget for that? Though, considering bizarre circular layout of the terminals, they may not have had much choice.
On to the rental car. I’m offered a PT Cruiser. No, wrong. Pontiac G6? Nope, what else you got? Mustang? Try again. Prius? Hmmm, why not. I’ve never driven one of these things and I was quite curious. Because I’m an ass, I ask the clerk where the nearest Whole Foods or Fresh Market is because I want to show off the Prius. She is not amused. I head to the cars and immediately see a 350Z convertible. I quickly return to the desk and ask how much. It’s only $35 more, per day. Ouch. No, I’ll stick with the Prius.
I get my stuff in it, hook up the ipod, check the mirrors, hit the gas, and….sit there. I don’t know how to get this thing moving. I started the car without a problem. Everything seemed to work, but it wouldn’t go into D. And the BRAKE light is on. I make sure the parking brake is off, try again. I press the brake and try shifting, no dice. I turn it on and off. I try every button combination I can think of. I eventually give up and head back inside to learn the trick. The desk clerk comes out to show me the ropes. She says you have to press the brake while turning the car on. But then she can’t get it to move either. She thinks it’s dead. I know it’s not dead. It’s dead silent, but I knew the gas engine doesn’t kick in right away. She repeats the process, jams the gas, and jumps forward, nearly clipping a Mazda. It’s alive.
I drive my rental hybrid to the hotel, which is mired in a maze of detours and closed streets. The atrium is very retro and pictures will be coming soon. If I hadn’t forgotten the USB cable, you’d see them now. I check out my room and pull out the laptop. And I quickly realize that I’ve also forgotten the power adapter. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I have much to go over tonight. And how will I find anything without Google Maps? Fuck!
The front desk clerk tells me the nearest Apple store is over 30 minutes away. It’s getting late and I’m getting desperate. I’m also desperate for a haircut, and some food. I head out on the main drag and see a Best Buy. Perfect. I race inside and find the Apple section and pick out my $80 power adapter. I don’t care what it costs because it’s being returned to the Best Buy at home on Sunday. To me, it’s a rental. I got a quick haircut and burrito and now I’m looking over my interview guide and watching some college basketball. The game is here in Kansas City, which is why I couldn’t get a hotel room downtown where I should be or a flight out tomorrow when I want to go home. Damn the Big XII.
So the hotel room is nice, with a sleep number bed, but it has an adjoining room. As you might remember, I hate having adjoining rooms. And this neighbor also likes their TV to be loud. I’m thinking of ordering the 6 hour hardcore porn, cranking the volume, and placing my TV against the door. I can also hear running water – it’s the hot tub right below my other door. That’s right, I have three doors in this bitch. One hallway on the right, one walkway (overlooking the hot tub and pool) on the left. And the adjoining door. Right now I hear the steady thrum of a fountain and the elevator music they play in the pool area. It’s quite awful, even for elevator/atrium music.
I’ll update again tomorrow, after the shoot.