Hokay. So. <tongue pop> See? Wha’ ha’ happened was…
I’m awake at 3:40 a.m. Between the worry of missing my flight and the snorin’ European somewhere in the building, I’m up. *sigh* I corral my jazz, as I’ve already packed most of it the night before because I KNOW I have an early start. 7:30 flight out of Geneva to get to London Heathrow for my 12:15 back to Nashville. I get a couple o’ cups of coffee in me, check the computer for any notifications or travel updates/delays. I’m pulling out of parking at 5:12 a.m.
I shoulda left as soon as I was up. I shoulda. I know that. I sure as hell shoulda. I did not. You can see where this is headed, right? *ADVENTURE!*
WELL, I find “Geneva Airport” in Loretta’s GPS address book, hit “start,” and… FIFTY-THREE MINUTES?!? That seems a bit much, but she’s been 100% this whole time, so OK. I’m MADE of time. I follow her directions to the letter, and I’m driving through BEAUTIFUL countryside, even though it seems a bit…rural for a journey to an international airport in a big city. Oh, hey, cows. Well, y’know, they’ve been everywhere else in this country, so… But my Spidey Sense is tinglin’. I’m cuttin’ it kinda close, time-wise, but I’m still 90 minutes away from boarding. We’re cool. It’s cool. All cool.
GPS: “You have reached your destination.”
Cow: “Moo.”
Um. I do a quick Google search to find that I am currently 26 KILOMETERS FROM THE GENEVA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. I grind the BAJEEZUS outta Loretta’s gears to get me turned around, as reverse works best from a dead stop, not still rolling at about 15 kph. First light’s about to break, nobody on the road. Still cool. Every traffic light between Green Acres and Geneva airport HATES me. The ENTIRE city is under construction. There are umpty-‘leven scooters that continue to zip around me, cutting in front of me. I’m seein’ red.
I am stopped, re-directed, held up by no less than FOUR garbage trucks. I have found a new level of road rage, friends. Imagine being blocked by a garbage truck and instead of moving his hulking monstrosity of waste disposal vehicle, HE LIGHTS UP A CIGARETTE, BLOWS AN EVER-SO-ELEGANT SMOKE RING. I could’ve gotten out and THROWN Loretta at this man. AND HIS HIGH-VISIBILTY VEST?!? Sir.
I’m trying to call Swiss Air, the CSRs are attempting helpfulness, but the accents (theirs AND mine) and the weak phone signal keep getting interrupted by Loretta’s GPS, only making me more insane. I’m trying to drive a stick in the worst stop-and-go traffic known to humanity, sun’s just breaking over the horizon, students and Swiss folk headed to work EVERYWHERE in ALL the dang crosswalks. <STOP> <YIELD> Light turns red…AGAIN.
Lord, I am SO happy my sweet momma couldn’t hear the string of spittle-laden invective spewing from my scowl this morning, trying to make it to the airport on time. Yeah, Captain Optimism has rainbows and sunshine shootin’ out his hindquarters, thinkin’ he can still catch that flight, even though LORETTA HAS *YET* TO BE RETURNED.
335 Swiss francs ($335 USD) LATER, I’m rebooked. For the flight back to London Heathrow. The lady at Swiss Air wasn’t the most helpful but HOT DANG that woman was attractive. There’s GOT to be a stringent interview process for hiring airport personnel at GVA. These women are STUN. NING.
Oh and Delta Airlines Reservations? Y’all are my flippin’ FAVORITES, now and FOREVER. After a moment on the phone with Paula, I’m rebooked to Nashville, arriving one night later, AND THEY DIDN’T CHARGE ME A NICKEL.
*AND* I’M ALREADY UPGRADED FOR TWO OF THE LEGS HOME. #travelmojo
So now I’m sitting in Geneva, caffeinating and soaking up wi-fi, getting ready for the massive travel day ahead. Nobody’s dead. Yet. But that’s the story. Nashville, I’m comin’ for you. But I’m runnin’ a little behind. Save me some grits, aight? Because I am FULL o’ cheese.
