it pays to stay awake at the movies

We returned from circling the country to visit family in a mellow but physically exhausted condition. At one point in our travels we had a scheduled plane change, but evil weather in the southwest and Midwest blew the schedule to bits. Departures were moved back, other departures were moved ahead - the problem being that a plane which was supposed to leave Airport X early in the morning had not been able to leave airport Y in time to do so. Thus we arrived at Airport Z kind of lateish to change planes to get to our next stop, and were told that late-arriving passengers had been put on other flights, some of which were being cancelled as we stood gaping at the arrivals/departures board.

Net-net: the travel day that was meant to begin at 7 a.m. and finish at 3 p.m., instead began at 4:30 a.m. (text messages from airline re schedule changes on first flight) and ended at 2:45 a.m. when we staggered into our hotel). It was all the frustration and pain of a business trip put together at the last minute by someone who'd never booked a flight before, except we weren't getting paid. When I have achieved a little distance from these events, I may do a little travel post, because the real part of the trip was lovely.

Returning to New York was uneventful but for the residual tension from the Travel Day of Horror and Self-Pity, and so a day or two of rest perked us up.

Or so I thought. Yesterday Himself suggested a movie, and since we'd been wanting to see The Lady in Gold, we stumbled over to the theatre and arranged ourselves in comfortable seats. The room was warm. It got dark, and then darker. Images spun before me, Klimt's dazzling painting, cute little girls, furniture, elegance, bad guys in armbands, chase scene, bad guys in uniforms, Casablanca(?), courtrooms, library stacks, bad guys in suits, California... 

Even someone who's wide awake will have trouble staying attentive while watching an actor do a research scene - unless of course the research invokes loud noises or puffs of smoke or some substance lighting up or changing color. A film with multiple scenes of "research," even varied by the use of computers here, documents there, oh look a folder... will not keep a sleepy traveler focussed. Or even awake. I'm not making excuses for what happened as we left the theatre. I'm just setting the scene. 

Me: She just gets better and better, doesn't she?

Himself: Sure does.

Me:  Hair and makeup were perfect. Only I thought she didn't quite hit the accent. When she spoke German she had kind of a Russian accent.

Himself: Who did?

Me: Meryl Streep.

Himself: That was Helen Mirren.

Me: eeps. I really need a cup of coffee.

Himself: Yes, you do.

Me: Mit Schlag.

For more information about Maria Altmann , her life,  and the fascinating story of the recovery of the wonderful portrait, see this article.

My new hero

Out to the west coast for a family gathering, truncated by bad weather and cancelled flights, but it's always a joy to be with the Teensiest Gluttons, and not even the inexplicable nasties of the American Airlines personnel at JFK on the flight out can dampen spirits all that much.

Here's what happened: we had reserved exit row seats, our flight was cancelled, American emailed the passengers on the cancelled flight, inviting all to rebook at no extra charge, and so we did, booking - again - exit row seats. Because of the dubious weather, we were at the gate almost an hour early. The flight was oversold, but in today's economy, I won't take the chance of being stuck with a travel voucher. We sat still and waited. Finally, the flight boarded, and we were having our boarding passes scanned at the gate when the gate agent told us that our seats had been reassigned, and proffered new boarding passes, which were not for exit row seats. Since we typically fly steerage, the extra inch-and-a-half of an exit row means something, and we asked how and when this change had occurred. The gate agent, in a principal's secretary voice, explained that she couldn't tell us. We stood still, the line behind us, and said we were at the very least, entitled to an explanation. It seems there was a (hushed voice) notation on our record, but she could not tell us who put a notation on our reservation, when this happened, and why. We asked for a supervisor. Gate nazi said that the plane would be in the air by the time she could reach a supervisor. We asked why we were only learning of the change now. Gate nazi claimed to have paged us. We pointed out that we had seen her arrive and open the position, and there had been no page. She claimed that the new seats were just as comfortable as the exit row seats. This was probably the most glaring untruth of the day - Himself was in a center seat between 2 overweight caucasian sumo wrestlers. I was seated in a "bulkhead window seat;" when seated, I had three inches of headroom, and no space to store my in-flight necessaries bag. Yes, I measured the headroom, I always travel with a bunch of gadgets. To leave the seat, I was required to participate in a threesome with some very unhappy strangers.

OK, enough. Suffice it to say that my new hero is Gérard Dépardieu. He understands.


Update: yes, I know about the latest Dépardieu incident, that's why I admire him, and were I similarly equipped I might have done the same.

Second update: we are now home and I wish to report that I forgot to take out my iPad when we went through security on the return trip and NO BELLS RANG AND I WAS NOT STOPPED!This at the same airport where a tube of mascara (Trish McEvoy) was confiscated from me because "it could be dangerous." Yes, I'm a real threat when I can blink with emphasis.