Go Sooners? Part II: The Drama Strikes Back

I may have mentioned it before, but my family has weird luck. It's hereditary.

It's neither a blessing or a curse. In fact, it ensures that the universe is centered, the floor is level. It makes sure that the sky stays blue, ducks quack, and armpit stains will never come out. It just means that things happen exactly the way things were supposed to happen, neither too good or too bad.

For example, it caused the sheer providence that made D call me the day I got the snarky email from my new boss, and I started looking for a new job. That's the divine side of the family luck.

And at times, it goes to the dark side.

So I'm sitting in the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport & Tire Center, waiting for the flight to take me to the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport & Hair Care en route to Oklahoma City. For the interview of my life the next morning at 8am. And the flight's delayed. At least it gave me an opportunity to finish up my research for the interview.

We finally board and taxi to the runway at 9:55pm. Doing a quick back-of-the-barfbag-calculation that should put us at DFW at 11ish, and my connecting flight leaves at 11:19. Landing after midnight, it'll be too late to pick up the rental but I could catch the shuttle to the hotel, catch a few ZZZ's and I'll figure out in the morning how to get to the interview.

The plane pulled up to the gate in DFW at 11:04. While Captains Bo & Luke were bouncing the plane down the runway trying to make up time, Rosemary the flight attendant gave out the connecting gate assignments.

Rosemary:"Flight 666 to OKC will be at gate D20"
Tenacious B:"Whoa, wait. What concourse are we landing at?" (So what if I ended a sentence with a preposition, I was tired.)
R:"Our gate is at C15"

It was 11:04. I had until 11:19 to get to my next flight, which involved me taking the skylink, an elevated tram that takes the scenic route around the airport, sometimes through a different time zone.
See the yellow line? Now trace between terminals C & D. Not a gay man's chance at a Sean Hannity taping will we make it.

B: "Uh, Rosemary, we won't make it."
R: "They know you're coming."
B: "Even if we put rockets on the tram and make the operator do a line of coke, we won't."
R: "Trust me. There are four of you connecting and they know we're landing now."
B: "Are they going to teleport our bags? And if so, can they teleport me as well?"
R: "Your bags actually have a better chance than you do."
B: "Rose, you're not exactly giving me a lot of confidence here."
R: "Can I please finish my connections list?"

I decided to put my faith in her words. I should've known better.

This was a sight. Tenacious B, two Bobby Hill types and a guy that looks like a retired alcoholic cockfighting referee running out of the tram towards the gate.

We arrived at Gate D20 at 11:24, face to face with a guy that was probably fired from the DMV for being too surly.

I hand my ticket to the guy, he slowly punched a few keys on the keyboard and hands me a ticket.

Mr. Surly: (taptaptap) "Here's your ticket for 9am tomorrow. We can't give you any hotel vouchers."
B: "Nope, that won't work. I have an interview at 8."
S: "There are no other flights tonight. NEXT!"
B: "Wait. Where's my checked bag?"
S: (taptaptapPOUND) "In Oklahoma City. NEXT!"
B: "Back up there cowboy. Say wha?"
S: (taptapPOUNDtapPOUND) "I show your bag arrived in OKC at 9:23. NEXT!"
B: "Chill with the next, chief. Take a Xanax. How did my bags get there before I even took off?"
S: He looks at me like I just told him I gave herpes to his daughter. "The bags on delayed flights sometimes go out on an earlier flight. NEXT!"
B: "So there were flights going out earlier? Why didn't... No. Never mind. It doesn't matter."
S: "Sir, if you don't mind stepping to the side. NE.."
B: "If you say 'next' again I will tell your boss you offered to pay me to dress up like a schoolgirl and poop on your head. Now... Listen carefully. Where. Is. My. Bag?"
S: Sighs. (tapPOUNDtaptapPOUNDPOUNDtapPOUND) "It's in the American Airlines Baggage claim office in OKC. It'll open at 5am."
B: "Thank you. Which way to the rental counter?"

He points me to where the shuttle picks up. Bobby Hill² and Bourbon McCockfight follow in tow.

On the shuttle ride, I briefly mention why I'm headed north and B.McC comes up with a great idea. He suggests that we split the cost on a rental and drive together. Much as it would give me a chance to nap a little on the way, having a rental under my name smell like stale cigarettes and Pabst Blue Ribbon wasn't on my itinerary. Lucky for me the Alpha Bobby notices the look on my face and says that it wouldn't be a good idea since I'm on such a tight schedule. Bobby, if you ever read this, I owe you a drink.

I rent a car with GPS (tapping out my bank account due to the stupid deposit) and head north.

I'm a pioneer.