I mean that literally. I can't NOT sleep on moving things, like planes or cars. I'm like a baby. So since we ran around like rabid grasshoppers, I spent the whole weekend drifting in and out of sleep, giving the horrible series of events a rather surreal quality in my memory.
I feel terrible for Neal. We were in Ohio for the wedding of two of his best buddies. If my trip to see a good friend's wedding had gone like this, I would be crushed.
Friday: I wake up sick as a dog. Call off work to rest up for flight later that day.
Miss flight. Sit in airport for hours on end. Stare at National Guard guys. Read. Practice Tae Kwon Do. Try not to go slowly insane. Try not to drive Neal slowly insane.
Out of nowhere, giant walking pieces of fruit come strolling through airport. Am sure I'm hallucinating from breathing stale air for hours and excessive sugar consumption, but no - it's the Snapple fruit! They were handing out key chains. I watch them scare a little kid and flirt with the heavily armed National Guard guys.
Armed Men In Camouflage - Walking Fruit In High Heels. There's something you don't see every day.
Friday night: Arrive in Columbus. Take taxi to Neal's mom's condo. Are unable to locate any of Neal's friends, who we are sure are getting together the night before the wedding.
1:00 a.m. Saturday: Locate one friend, who tells us everyone is at one of two bars. Drive around freezing-ass Columbus in the freezing-ass rain looking for bars. Find bars, don't find friends.
2:00 a.m. Saturday: Give up and go to bed. Neal is disappointed, but looking forward to the wedding and reception tomorrow.
12 noon Saturday: Wake up. A little later than planned, but the wedding isn't until 4:30 p.m., so we should be fine. Right? Right.
12:30 p.m. Saturday: Neal returns from dropping off dry-cleaning at 1-hour place. Calls rental car place - they say they have cars available. Cool.
1:00 p.m. Saturday: Grab bite to eat, pick up dry-cleaning, and shower.
2:00 p.m. Saturday: Neal's mom drives us to car rental place.
Car Rental Dude #1 tells us he doesn't have any cars, after all. We're upset, until he makes a phone call -- on speakerphone -- to their airport branch. Cool.
2:40 p.m.: Arrive at 2nd "car rental" place. Car Rental Dude #2 tells me no one talked to him, and no cars are available. When Neal hears this, he turns a funny shade of purple and several veins spring out of his forehead. I feel mildly afraid for Car Rental Dude #2 as Neal heads inside. Neal returns, his face a more normal color, and says there's an airport branch in the actual terminal, and THAT is where our elusive car sits. Whew. The wedding is an hour away and starts at 4:30 p.m. - we still have time.
3:00 p.m. Saturday: Terminals are confusing places. Neal's mom accidentally ends up in the parking garage, not in the "car rental" area. Not that I blame her - terminals are confusing.
3:15 p.m. Saturday Neal and I get in line. Just to be sure, he asks at the counters of all the other "car rental" places. No one else has anything available.
3:30 p.m. Saturday: We're still in line. Neal's starting to look like he wants to hit things. I just want to cry at this point. We calculate that if we get the car in the next 15 minutes, and the wedding is running a little behind like every other wedding either of us has ever attended, we can make it. Even if we're a little later than that, we can totally slip in the back.
3:50 p.m. Saturday: Man behind counter tells us he knows nothing about the phone call or the woman taking my name and holding a car for me. And of course, he has no cars available. That sign behind him that says "car rental" is just for show, you see? There are no actual cars for rent, here. We're actually standing at the "Budget Lies, Deception, and False Hopes Counter." Our bad. We leave, pissed.
4:00 p.m. Saturday: We leave Columbus. My parents will let us borrow their car.
4:50 p.m. Saturday: I pull out of mom's garage, armed with directions and Neal.
5:10 p.m. Saturday: I realize I don't really remember the way to the area where the wedding is. Call dad. He helps.
5:25 p.m. Saturday: Arrive at reception area. We've missed wedding. After we've entered the tent with the food and music and stuff, we realize since we're late, we have literally nowhere to sit. Like we didn't already feel like big enough schmucks, now I'm sitting in the corner by myself with a stiff drink, sucking on a cigarette like a bitter ex-girlfriend.
6 p.m. Saturday: Neal realizes he forgot a card in which to store his sizable cash gift. We run to nearby bookstore, and I pick a prettier envelope than the one that goes with the card we've chosen.
6:15 p.m. Saturday: We're sitting in the car using a dull pocketknife to shave a fraction of an inch off the card, because it doesn't fit in the prettier envelope. Neal is cursing a relatively small amount.
6:30 - 11:30 p.m. Saturday: We eat. We drink. We're freezing, but we start to feel a little better. We make arrangements for a friend to meet us at my house so I can drop off my mom's car, then head to the bar with everyone. After that, we'll ride with them to their hotel and check in.
12:30 a.m. Sunday: Neal and I are frantically trying to gather our shit, while friend who met us at my parents' house rushes us, because the bar we all want to go to closes at 1 a.m.
12:40 a.m. Sunday: I'm sitting in bar with Neal. I realize I left my purse at my parents' house. My purse contains all of my ID, and the credit card with which we planned to use to obtain a hotel room. No taxis run in this God-forsaken small town that late at night. We're completely fucked.
1:10 a.m. Sunday: We halfheartedly follow everyone to the next bar. I can't drink, because I don't have an ID. It doesn't really matter, because at this point, Neal and I are so fed up, we don't feel like doing anything. As we talk another friend into squishing us into a pick-up truck and taking us home, Neal and I come to the realization that we have been nothing but Giant Pains In The Ass to anyone we've come in contact with the entire time we've been in Ohio. This depresses us considerably.
1:30 a.m. Sunday: Call Dad to see if he'll leave door unlocked for us. He tells me that at the rate Neal and I were going, he and mom had left every door unlocked, just in case.
(This is a bit upsetting. Neal and I have learned from outside sources that Dad thinks we're irresponsible. Phrases like, "The blind leading the blind" have been used. Now, Neal is an incredibly together person, and I used to be the Slacker Poster Child, but I have come great lengths in my level of responsibility, and I'm rather proud of that. So this is tough to swallow, and situations like this past weekend don't exactly help to refute that reputation, you know? Anyways.)
Dad also says he'll drive us to the airport in the morning.
2:00 a.m. Sunday: Neal and I would perform brain surgery on each other if it meant we could leave the bar at this point, but since we're relying on others, we can't exactly push, you know? Still, we have to leave for the airport at 8 a.m. the latest.
2:25 a.m. Sunday: At this point, we say "fuck manners" and start to push.
2:40 a.m. Sunday: 4 of us pack into pickup truck. Neal and I collapse into bed and immediately fall asleep.
11 a.m. Sunday: Neal and I are certain that the way this weekend is going, there is no possible way we WON'T miss this flight. It seems inevitable. As we run inside, I thank Dad profusely for all his help, including driving us to the airport. He's a champ.
11:30 a.m. Sunday: By some miracle, we make our flight. And although we're literally the last people to board, we manage to sit together. On backwards seats that don't recline with no tray table, but the way our past 48 hours went, we can't be ungrateful. Until the stewardess starts singing over the PA. Then, I admit, I start to feel a bit ungrateful.
Neal actually considered staying in Ohio until Wednesday, since his job ended the Friday before last. But by the time we were suffering in the 2nd bar Saturday night, he was just ready to bury this fucking nightmare trip in the darkest depths of his brain and never, ever think or speak of it again. He even left a suitcase we didn't have time to pick up at his mother's, he was so desperate to leave that hellhole. Not that I blame him. Not one little bit.
He plans to head back to Ohio for a few days in a couple of weeks to have a more relaxed visit (please, PLEASE lord), and to pick up his suitcase.
My thoughts and prayers will be with him.
