Castle Frostbite is about an hour and a half from the airport in Manchester, and my flight home had originally been scheduled for noonish, allowing for a leisurely departure time and an early lunch on the way. But American Airlines* had changed my schedule and now my flight was departing at a bit after eight. If I wanted to get to the airport an hour early, this meant waking up at 0mygod30.
So, we did, and I got checked in and through security with plenty of time to spare, boarded the flight, and... There were low clouds socking in the airport in Philly, so we were put on a ground hold there at the gate. They'd already closed the boarding door and started the engines on the packed-full CRJ700, so they had to power them down again, at which point we learned that the APU on the little executive mailing tube was deadlined.
We wound up sitting there on the ramp for more than forty-five minutes, such that they had to hook up to the ground umbilicals again to get some limited a/c in the plane.
We finally got airborne and into Philly an hour late. Lotta scrambling for connecting flights. I was fortunate, in that I'd originally had a three-plus hour layover, so I had plenty of time to shuttle bus my way from Terminal F to Terminal B.
Departure from Philadelphia was on time and went smoothly...
To the east, the sky over Hoosieropolis was mostly cloudy against a backdrop of blue, but as we were taxiing, your could see the black wall of a thunderstorm sweeping toward the airport from the west.
By the time I was walking toward baggage claim, rain was lashing the airport windows and the intercom informed us the ramp would be closed for at least twenty minutes before our baggage could be unloaded.
Finally the bags started dropping onto the carousel and I grabbed my well-travelled Maxpedition Fliegerduffel, attached the shoulder strap, and wandered over to baggage services to fetch my Case Club eight-pistol case. (I had been trying to get some work done while dog sitting in the north woods.)
Instead, while I was talking to the American Airlines BSO guy, I noticed my black case with its pink padlocks and prominent red Do Not Put On Carousel tag circling the baggage carousel. Blurting "Holy $#!+!", I scurried over to retrieve it.
Towing about a hundred pounds of guns, camera gear, and luggage, I headed for the Uber pickup area, giving the mortified BSO dude some hard side-eye as I passed.
My Uber driver was pleasant, but the ride had unavoidable delays as Indy has torn up the interstate through the middle of town for a long-overdue revamping.
On arrival at home, I noticed that inconsiderate me from two weeks ago had left current me almost no Diet Dew in the fridge, so I decided to head over to Preston Safeway to restock. Only the Z3 was sitting on a flat driver's side front tire. Looks like it's got a slow leak that likely means another crack that needs welding. On inflating the tire and heading to the store, I discovered that they were absolutely out of Diet Dew or any other caffeinated citrus-flavored diet cola in any serving size or container.
At least I was home and Bobbi and the cats seemed glad to see me. Other than that, I gotta give Sunday 2/5 stars. Do not recommend.
*Marko and I are both Delta loyalists, but during the travel crunch of the Time of the 'Rona, Delta discontinued service to Manchester, which is basically a feeder/alternate for Boston. Boston flights would be cheaper and direct, but the drive is longer and then there's the whole gun thing...
