I really dislike Dallas-Fort Worth International. Whenever I end up laying over in DFW, I am inevitably doing an OJ Simpson through one entire concourse, in order to then make the 1200m dash through another concourse to make my connection in 15 minutes … which then, inevitably, ends up being delayed three hours as I arrive, my body giving out beneath me.
While I didn’t have to dash much this time, my opinion of DFW was not improved.
The Delta concourse is designed with the baggage claim areas paralleling the councourse the entire length. So every thirty yards or so, there’s another gate. Which means another X-ray machine. Which means another pair of soldierly types with their slung M16. Eep. Security nightmare. The soldiers are supported by at least two other law enforcement agencies (couldn’t tell what, but one wore navy blue police type uniforms, the other wore dark leather jackets), but it was still goofy. Why they didn’t close half of them to incoming traffic I do not know.
To make a long story from before short, Margie also wangled us Good Seats on the new flight. Though she paid for it, karmically, by initially standing in line at the gate for about fifteen minutes before they announced they were not actually dealing with the flight we were on yet, but the one going out before it.
See, our flight was delayed. An hour. And, later, another 25 minutes beyond that. And when you’re getting in late in the first place, that’s all not a good thing.
Mercifully, there was a Haagen-Dasz store right near where we were. I wrote in my Palm blog journal, “Rum Raisin is da bomb.” And then, “Can I say that in an airport?”
But it’s true. HD Rum Raisin ice cream is nectar and ambrosia. The gods themselves eat of it. It is the most wonderful thing in the world.
There, now you know.
Unfortunately, it does not make a dinner, at least not in conventional servings. Margie found a good little Chinese place and brought me back some, while I watched Squiggy. We took turns doing that, and, mercifully, she found some other kids to play with (plenty of kids traveling with their parents to Orlando, no great surprise), which let her burn off lots of energy.
I noted in my blog journal, “It’s a bad sign when CNN begins to repeat. Again.”
There were plastic knives in service there, too.
I noted with some irony that Margie’s boarding pass noted, “Infant in arms.” Mine noted, “Bags = 04.”
After complaining mentally once again that the airlines all decided to stop offering early boarding for families with children and infants just at the point where we had one, Delta did so. So we did. Middle three seats on a 767. Not bad. We were pretty tired and frazzled by that point, but at least we were on our way once more.
They played a free movie for us, since we’d been delayed. Cats & Dogs. I’d have rather seen the other choice, Tomb Raider, but Katherine enjoyed the 15 minutes she was awake for.