Growing in to Grown Up

Did You Know There’s A Song Called “The Devil Lives in Dallas”…? I Believe it Now | June 17, 2010

Now that my suitcase is unpacked and the sunburn is well on its way to peeling, maybe it’s time I tell you about my trip to Mexico.  Well, not Mexico really…because there’s not much of a story in that.  Laid on the beach, drank margaritas, ate my weight in ounces of guacamole, you know, standard. Cabo was beautiful and relaxing and a blast.  It’s almost impossible to not have a good time with BFF Jenn. I’ll tell you what’s not a blast though.  American Airlines and the Dallas Ft. Worth airport. Even crazy Aunt Leslie can tell you about how there’s no such thing as a pleasant travel experience at DFW.

Let’s start at the beginning.  I flew from Nashville to Minneapolis to meet up with Jenn so we could fly together and visit other college friends before the trip.  We arrived two hours before our flight, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, passports in hand, ready to get to the beach! At boarding time they announced that we would begin boarding in ten minutes because they were fixing a minor problem. Forty minutes later they had to replace a fire extinguisher and an hour after that they were delaying the flight indefinitely.  Please note they never canceled the flight because that would require them giving us travel vouchers.  We (including the 300-some other passengers) were handed a phone number to call to arrange reroutes for flights and told to get in line if we’d like to talk to someone in person.  We get in line while calling the phone number and after being put on hold for 30 minutes get told that there was no way we’d make any connecting flight to Cabo and there’s nothing they could do and hung up on us. Seriously rude! It took about 2 more hours to get to the ticket counter where we were booked on the next flight to Dallas and told we could go to Mexico in the morning.

We arrived in Dallas, and as instructed, walked to the agent at the desk where we were told they’d instruct us on how to get a hotel room and meals on American Airline’s tab.  The lady gave us a hard time but eventually printed out the vouchers and gave us the number to call to get our shuttle to the Days Inn in Irving. Classy. Compared to the five star resort on the beach we WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT ALREADY.

We got outside in the sticky, sweltering 10pm heat where we’re supposed to wait for our shuttle when an average-looking 15 passenger van pulls up.  We climb in not realizing we were entering the pot-hole magnet, Ford van straight to H-E-Double Hockey Sticks (this is a family friendly blog, after all.) The speed-racer driver side-wheelies his way through ramps and tunnels picking up I. KID. YOU. NOT. 20 other passengers (mostly extra large smelly men in Hawaiian shirts and mullets) from all five terminals who climb in and make themselves comfortable. One by one they get dropped off at Motel 6′s and Super 8′s, etc. until we’re the last 2 in the car.  Just as I was about to ask for a barf bag from all of the on-ground turbulence, we drive through a dark alley and pull up to the most ghetto and shady-looking Days Inn I have ever seen in my life.

We walk in to a lobby partially blocked off with caution tape, where there are tiles missing from the floors and the entire place stinks of week old Chinese food and get assigned a room.  Completely on the opposite end of the hotel.  We hike up 3 flights, roll our suitcases down what seems like city blocks of motel rooms, and find our “suite.”  We open the door to find the most cramped, poorly lit, muggy, bug filled room I have ever seen in my life. And I’ve stayed at some questionable cheap hotels in my day.  After deadbolting the door, checking the shower to make sure there were no cameras, and debating whether the sheets were clean enough to put on pajamas or if it was a better bet to just sleep in our clothes, we went to sleep praying this wasn’t the beginning of some bad horror movie.

After a sleepless night, our shuttle back to the airport came at 6:20 am where we were significantly less bright-eyed and had absolutely no bushy tails.

The rest of the trip went relatively smoothly with the exception of a few gate changes and “You want a Mexican boyfriend? Mexican souvenir?” question overload, but that’s to be expected.

So to sum it all up, I’m sticking to Southwest from now on and Mexico was wonderful.

On a side note, I chopped off all of my hair.

On another side note, I’m going to a RC Cola Moon Pie Festival this weekend. If you’re not sure what that means, you can watch a video about it here.