I got on a plane again, and I wasn’t particularly happy with my route or carrier(s), but someone else was paying, so I didn’t have a voice, except the one inside my head, begging them to put me on another flight. I had to fly American from Huntsville to Chicago (oof). I deleted the American app from my phone a few years ago, certain that I’d never fly them again. I’m married to the Star Alliance program and American and Star Alliance? Well, they’re currently not talking to each other. So it was painful. What is the lowest possible boarding group you can be in? Go ahead, take a guess. This is what I heard: Military members, you are welcome to board, Families traveling with young children or those needing assistance, you are welcome to board. Group 1, you are welcome to board. Group 2, you are welcome to board. Group 3 you are welcome to board. Group 4 you are welcome to board. Group 5 you are welcome to board. (Getting bored of this yet?) Group 6 you are welcome to board. Group 7 you are welcome to board and Group 8, you are welcome to board. That was me, group 8. The humiliation. This was just the beginning of the first delayed flight and it got way worse from there, turning what was supposed to be a mere 20 hour trip into a 4 day expedition, filled with follies and fuck ups at every possible fork in the air.
But I finally got to my destination, and without disclosing specifics, here’s the background: a project in the Middle East with 2000+ employees, 33 different nationalities, which, in my twisted mind, translates to a whole lot of fun. My accommodations? The holy grail of billets in the Middle East: a wet CHU. For those not familiar with the nomenclature, CHU is an acronym for Containerized Housing Unit and wet, ahh, that’s where the holy grail part comes in. A wet CHU has a shower, sink and toilet inside the CHU. When I was being taken to my quarters, my colleague said, “And your hooch is wet. You may have to share with the person next door…” I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought I had made a terrible mistake. I’m too old for *ahem* that shit, so to speak. To my immense relief, when I opened the door to the bathing facilities, there was no connecting door. The knots in my stomach were immediately untwisted and I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was going to be okay. The CHU is nicely kitted out as well with refrigerator, microwave, TV with a bazillion channels, WiFi, ice cold ac for the stifling hot summer and heated for the surprisingly cold winters. I have a great team and an embarrassingly large office. I had a meeting with a couple of South African guys and when they walked in, one of them said (and it’s best to imagine this in a South African accent), “Now this! This is a bloody office!”
My bloody office
Those with memories better than mine may recall this was my fourth attempt at retirement. I’ve been working at home sporadically, which technically qualifies as a fail, but this gig really vaults me firmly into the fourth time loser category. When I was interviewing for the job, the first level director asked me why I was interested in going overseas again. I said, “The pandemic. This whole year. I’ve just been bored.” I always believe in brutal honesty, it’s important for them to know who they may be potentially hiring. The boredom has officially ended.
And hey, shout out to my dad, who is a fantastic human being, all the other dads, the moms and moms raising kids, and all of the single moms pulling double duty. Because raising kids is NEVER boring.
