I have to remember to avoid buying tickets to Boston on American in future.  Flights on regular American Airlines are generally fine.  But the "regional carrier," American Eagle, is so sorely lacking in the service area, and has so few flights anyway...well, let's just take you through our journey to Boston this weekend.

Friday afternoon we left for the airport around 2:30 for our 5:00 flight.  Plenty of time.  When we checked in, the flight was listed as being 20 minutes late.  No problem.  We get through security and customs (American customs is in Toronto, since so many people fly to the States from here) - the officer had been stationed in the Philippines maybe 15 or so years ago so he asked us a lot of silly and entertaining questions.  Then we get to the gate.

I called my mom to let her know we're delayed, and that we might be delayed more because the gate agent wasn't able to tell me that our plane was on its way.

A little time passes.  I check the monitors, and our flight is listed as on time, which I know is a lie, but I figure that indicates it won't be a huge delay.

In a few minutes, completely out of the blue since the display at the gate has no indication of our flight at all, an announcement is made that our new estimated departure time is 8:00.  Our flight is coming from La Guardia and they have a ground stop.  Weather is not their fault.  Bad customer service - like not telling us that as soon as they knew it - is their fault.

I call home again.  Have dinner and then come get us.

Not long after that, our flight is out and out cancelled.  There are no more flights that night.

Joey and I take off at a run for the ticket counter.  He stands in one line and I stand in the other, to maximize our chances of getting rebooked before everyone else takes all the seats.  We both get on the phone - Joey to the airline, me to my parents.  My dad tells me we've been automatically rebooked on the 6:30am flight.  Ouch, but sure, OK.  I ask a nice woman to hold my place in line and run over and tell Joey this, but we decide to stay in the lines so we can confirm this.  He wins, and we go over and yes, confirm that we will have to get up at 3:30 in the morning, but we'll get to Boston a little bit after 8am.  Our luggage will come up at the international connections carousel over there.  Fine.  I call Dad and he says he'll come pick us up in the morning.

We wait a while, and eventually our suitcase does come up.

We go get some dinner and buy some presents for Joey's uncle's and cousin's birthdays.  We go home.  We sleep a little.  We get up and go back to the airport.

I am not good after three hours' sleep.  Get me five and I am OK.  But if I wake up after three, I have a sour stomach and a headache until I sleep again.  Luckily, the plane boards on time and I fall asleep without too much delay.

I am awakened by the captain announcing that due to fog in Boston we will be landing in Hartford, in twenty minutes.

Again, weather not their fault.

We land.  No one can tell us when the weather is going to improve.  No one can tell us what the airline will do if the plane is going to be extremely delayed.  They can tell us not to use a lot of toilet paper because the plane will not be serviced, no matter how long we are sitting there.  They do let some people off, who plan to rent cars or take buses or whatnot, and Joey and I debate doing the same.  And then someone who is not on our actual flight crew demands that no one else leave the plane because she is just too busy to deal with us.  So we are now stuck on a plane with a never-to-be-serviced toilet and very little food on the tarmac in Hartford.

I tell my dad, who is already at the airport in Boston waiting for us, to go home, that we will take a cab whenever we eventually get there.

There's no news, and there's no news, and then suddenly we have to prepare for takeoff RIGHT NOW.  And forty mintues later we are on the ground in Boston.

Fifteen hours after we were scheduled to do so.  We are cranky, exhausted, smelly. 

Now, if this were all, we might say, well, it was the weather.  We might take American Eagle again if it were cheaper than Air Canada, which it generally isn't, or if the schedule were better than Air Canada for our purposes, which sometimes it is.  But there are so few flights, we now know if one is cancelled we'll likely have to wait overnight to get on another.  And the planes are smaller, and much more cramped, and they only stock food for eight people whereas Air Canada has a wide variety of snacks, which is good if you are stuck for a long time (you have to pay extra for it on both airlines, but still).  And on American Eagle, you are basically thrown onto the plane by the dregs of the American customer service staff.  They announce bad news as if it were a price check in the supermarket.  There is one attendant on the plane so he or she is always harried.  It's always a mediocre or less experience even if nothing goes wrong.

Whenever possible, they'll be avoided.  "Please do not use too much toilet paper because we need to have a usable bathroom on board, in case we're here for the long haul" is not what I want to hear when I was supposed to be at my destination last night. 

Does anyone really use a Dictaphone anymore?  I seriously just looked at a job posting at an unnamed organization and one of the required skills is Dictaphone.

In all my years of admin work, temping, and general around-offices-ness, I have not had to touch a Dictaphone.

Dude, send your secretary an email with bullet points.  She knows how to write the letter.  If she doesn't, you need a new secretary.

I was chatting online with Dave (who will be here in less than two weeks!  hurrah!), and we were talking about the old test prep days, when we worked at rival companies (I was at TPR, he was at the Evil Empire, as it was known in my office).  I remembered my least favorite item of office equipment - the Scantron.

That thing jammed more than strawberries.  More than Phish!

And was about as archaic as a Dictaphone.  Which is why they're giving some tests by computer (by the way, it is so much better, I don't care how scary you might find it, get over it, computers are here, they're queer, get used to it).  When schools find their way into the 21st century, the SAT will go that way too, I'm convinced.  For now, though, there are just too many kids and not enough machines.

They've changed the test, I see.  Some more.  Last I heard they'd just eliminated analogies.  Those were the best part!  Vocabulary! Vocabulary!

OK, I'm done.  Dictaphone.  Hmph.

It's supposed to storm this afternoon.  So I left in the morning to go buy some Dryel refill sheets.  I love Dryel (warning, annoying sound on that site); I hate sending my clothes off to someone else, just so they come back pressed incorrectly, and I've paid ten bucks for it.  With Dryel, almost everything comes out beautifully, because it's just shaken around awhile and then you hang it up so all the wrinkles come right out.

I wouldn't put a silk dress in, but sweaters, matte jersey things, etc. etc. etc...

But no one freaking sells it around here except Walmart.  I hate Walmart.  I love the Wallmart South Park episode.  But I hate Walmart. 

Hence I tried everywhere else first.  But no luck.

Now I am home and Dryel-ing two skirts, a sweater and a sleeveless top.  I also bought soap, a lipstick (I do wear it once in a while - the problem is that you're really supposed to throw makeup away after a certain interval and I have never used it up by that point), green beans, and a sandwich at various places.

I'm so productive.  At least I didn't forget why I originally went shopping.

I learned something today that upset me.  I know it shouldn't.  I know I should be far beyond it.  But I never had that lovely thing called closure with this person.  So I haven't been able to really dump the old anger, and I got a little refresher today.

I couldn't believe what I was being told, because it seemed so completely out of the realm of possibility.  I am too nice to say what it actually is; don't want to mess up this person's current life.  I have a nice new life now myself.  I don't really wish the person harm.  I just wish I could think of an explanation for what I was told.  It makes my head spin. 

I don't like not having answers.

And so until someone finds out or lets me know, I'll have a big, big question.  And when someday I run into this person on the street, because of course that will happen even though we live hundreds of miles apart, maybe I'll ask.  I'm pretty sure I know the answer, and that it leaves the situation all the more confusing.

And then I ask myself, did I ever really know this person?  I hope I did.  I loved this person.

You may be wondering why little Jewish lefty girl has not discussed what's going on in the Middle East.

I can't talk about it with...well, pretty much anyone I know without someone getting upset.  So I just don't talk about it.

I'm entirely anti-war, most people in my life know that.  I don't think guns and bombs can be considered part of natural selection.  I think war is always wrong.  Once violence has begun, it is sometimes unavoidable, but that doesn't make it right.  Or good for the world.  And don't get me started on imperialism.

But little Jewish lefty girl can't make statements about Israel, or anything Israel is involved in, without upsetting someone close to her, or many someones, so she'll just refrain.

And remember that in Marge Piercy's He, She and It, which of course is a dystopic feminist sci-fi novel written by a Jewish lefty woman but one that seems like it could happen, the Middle East is a black square on the map, uninhabitable, and near-forgotten.