It all started at the airport in Beaumont. Grandma dropped me off; I checked in and they weighed my bags. Everything seemed like a normal trip. I couldn't wait to get off the ground and go to Washington, D. C. on an awesome trip. Little did I know this was going to b e one of the most blunder-filled times of my life.
After the plane landed, we all boarded. I sat down and started to rummage through my bag for some gum. A lady poked her head in the door and asked, “Is there a Brian Selman here?”
I weakly stammered, “That's me.”
I'm sorry, she said. But your grandma will hav e to pick you up She didn't fill out the right forms.”
I'm zoned out not, feeling as if my stomach has come into my throat with razor blades following. I feel like a zombie with dead weight for legs as I'm walking down the runway. Suddenly, a thought hit me!
Didn't Grandma hand me a red paper to give them when I landed?
“M-M-Miss, I mumbled as I unzipped my bag. Could these possibly be them?”
“We're being delayed for twenty minutes. The runways are being cleared in Houston,” I heard over the intercom.
For some reason the stewardess had me switch seats with a man on the fourth row. Hey, it works for me. Now I have a window seat all by myself. I reach for more gum in my bag , and ….oh, great....now I can't find my ticket. So much for a perfect trip. After searching my bag and asking the guy who was sitting in my last seat if he had seen it, I checked with the stewardess to see if somehow, I could get another ticket. She said she could print one out from the airport, but it would be really nice if I could fine mine. Finally, I got her to search where I'd been siting. I just knew it was there. She found it under the seat. Thank goodness! I could just see it laying on the runway and the plane running over it.
Well, we land and I find the lady who is to get me to my next plane. I discover there are under floors in the Houston airport. First, we drop off a lady in a wheel chair and then she checks where my gate is and what do you know? My plane takes off in one minute and the gate is across the airport. If you've ever been to the Houston airport, you know it is impossible to get to my gate in that amount of time. She asked but they wouldn't wait for me.She then tells me the next plane will arrive in two hours and drops me off at the young travelers' lounge.
Okay, this is one time I'm glad I got myself into a mix-up. This place is like heaven for teenagers. They have everything, including a 'fridge, six types of sodas, four kinds of chips, cookies, two big flat-screened T.V.s , pillows, three sofas, five chairs, and an empty room except for a lady at a desk, who is busy at a computer.
I finally got on my plane and arrived in Baltimore. I had a great time and saw many interesting things. I got separated from my group twice, because my partner , whom I was supposed to stick with, happened to be a complete idiot, but that's not what this is about. The night before we were to leave for home, I tell my roommates, “Make absolutely sure I get up at three A.M. I don't care what you have to do. Punch me, roll me off the bed, pour water on me, I don't care! Just make certain I get up.” I wake up and look at my clock. Check in is four A.M. And the bus leaves at five for the airport. It's four fifty-eight! I jump straight up, throw on my clothes, have a hurried discussion with my roommates about why they did not wake me.I dash for the elevator with my suitcase (not an easy thing) and dash to the bus just in the nick of time. Turns out one other guy was late also.
I get to the airport to go home. “I'm sorry sir, but it seems a hurricane hit where your airport was. There is no Beaumont airport anymore.
I had no idea Hurricane Rita had hit. I had to repeat the program and during the hardest times of the Rita aftermath, I was in a four star hotel, not bad for me. After three days, I finally get to fly to Houston. After waiting a total if eighteen hours in the airport, I got home, finally, only to look forward to three weeks of MRE's.