I'm never flying out of Oakland on a Sunday....EVER!

Well, it had to happen. After having a great many flights to various places that went off without a hitch, John and I finally ran into trouble going somewhere. This past weekend we were supposed to go visit some friends in Vancouver for their pride extravagayza. I say supposed to, because, obviously, it didn't happen.

The plan was to fly up to Seattle (since that's as far north as our free flight benefits will take us) and then take a train from there to Vancouver. I should have taken the hint from (insert mystical force of the universe of choice here...Flying Spaghetti Monster?) that this trip might not go well when I had to beg, plead, and eventually pay one of my co-workers just to get him to cover my shift. As if that weren't bad omen enough, I checked on trains once I had finally secured the days off I needed, only to find out that all of the trains going from Seattle to VC were sold out. Seeing that there was still a shuttle we could take, however, I figured we could just be a bit flexible and do that instead.

The flight plan was that I would fly into Vegas and meet John (who was already there for business) at the gate for the flight going to Oakland...from where we would then take a flight to Seattle. I had checked the bookings, and they appeared to be more than fine from Vegas to Oakland. From Oakland to Seattle was a little tighter, but still looked manageable. So we made our way up to Oakland, and proceeded to our gate for the Seattle flight...which was over-booked by a large margin. We put ourselves on the standby list to no avail, and waited for later flights...all of which we missed.

I'd been texting Moby about our ordeal while we were sitting around the airport, and he (being the sweetheart that he is) let us know that we could come stay at his place so that we could try again in the morning. So we headed into Frisco, met up with Moby, and had dinner at this really great chicken place whose name is escaping me right now...but they put out these spiced olives on all the tables that, by themselves are worth visiting the place for. Later we watched a The Prestige, which was fun for us to see again...and even more fun to watch Moby get all excited about figuring out the ending ahead of time. Later we kicked him out of his own bed so we could sleep there instead. It was a nice, if short, and unexpected visit.

Hey! This isn't Vancouver!

So the next day we took the two trains and a bus needed to get to Oakland airport from the Castro, only to walk upon the longest line EVER seen. You'd have thought they were giving away free Iphones or something. But that was only the line to get to the ticket counter. Luckily enough, we weren't checking bags, and had security passes, so we waltzed right on through and managed to make it just in time...to be told we couldn't make it on the flight we were trying for. And then the next one? Same thing. And the four after that? All the same.

So, finally realizing that we'd been beat, we decided that we should head back to Vegas, where we had left the car in airport parking. ($12 a day!) But we then found out that just about any flight going anywhere that wasn't the zoo that the Oakland airport seems to turn into on a Sunday was overbooked, and had a waiting list 14 lines long of paying standbys. How bad was it? we had to fly to Ontario, CA just to make our way to Vegas.

Having finally made it back to Vegas, we decided to head to the gym to take out our frustrations...despite having headaches and feeling a little nauseated from a full day of airport food. The next day, however, John's nausea went from "Green Zone" to "Fallujah". It was that bad...really. The bad part was that it turned ugly while I was visiting with a co-worker who'd flown in for a short while on his way back to San Diego. So while I was having buffet and talking shop, John was kneeling at the porcelain altar. Yes, I'll be expecting my husband of the year award nomination any day now.

...and neither is this! WTF?

Luckily enough, by the next morning John's stomach issues had turned more into just general malaise and less Linda Blair in The Exorcist. Still, I wanted to make sure that he was ok for the drive home, so I went with him instead of flying back. Which was really nice, as it gave us some time to spend together frolicking about in Lake Mead along the way. The water was surprisingly warm, and I got the added bonus of watching John's facial expressions as his feet moved from the rocky portion of the lake floor to the part he described as "icky and slimey". Classic.

And neither is this! But at least it's pretty!

The remainder of the trip home was a scenic tour of the lovely northern Arizona desert. Alot of which I spent thinking about how a flight from Vegas to Tucson is a little over an hour, but driving takes nearly 8 hours. I guess traveling at nearly 500 mph through the air verses 60mph on twisty, curvey roads tends to help with that.

Still not Vancouver, but at least we got a little vitamin D!

So the moral of the story, kids? If you should ever get the benefit of flying as a non-revenue standby passenger on an airline...don't fly out of Oakland on a Sunday...EVER...no, seriously.