badder weather...

...even though there is some vague memory of the fact that 'badder' is not really a word. I possibly recall that the thing that is more dramatic than 'bad' would be 'worse', but pretty sure that 'worser' does not really exist either. At any rate: the weather alert on Tuesday was to let us know that the storms on Monday were a mild precursor to what would happen on Wednesday. Just a fore-warning that the winds, blowing rains, hail, possibility of tornadoes would be far more widespread and dreadful than the little 'baby' storms we saw with power outages and downed trees early in the week.

Which caused the flight I expected to be loading on Wed.  morning to be delayed numerous times, to the point that you could almost feel the hostility, aggravation, frustration, pent up irritation, barely controlled four-letter words, simmering annoyance. As we all got to know one another (like you would on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean), we shared stories of how the continual delay was futzing our plans. I don't know what sort of contingency plans airlines could make for a weather crisis, and I know safety is a priority. But knowing well in advance just what was likely to occur, it is baffling that there was not some sort of preparation done. (Other than mop buckets to hold steady stream of drips from the leaking roof  of the incomplete terminal area.)

Talking to a fellow passenger, who was planning to meet a spouse in NYC, I found her to be quite optimistic about the storm we were watching out the windows, sheets of rain on the glass, blowing across the waiting airplanes, vehicles, workers. Sitting in the waiting area, she reported she had tickets for a Broadway show, and a husband waiting for her to arrive to go on a date in the Big City. She was so positive, and hopeful the weather would blow over and we would soon be on our way. I introduced myself, saying "and you must be Pollyanna?" Upon having the boarding time repeatedly pushed back, I suggested she give me her husband's number so I could call P. who was waiting for me, and tell her to go to the show with a strange man.

I finally arrived about five hours later than planned. What can you do? They have you over a barrel. You want to get someplace, and they have the only game in town, so you grumble and moan, gnash your teeth, but have no choice but to play the game by their rules.

At one point in the 'hurry up and wait' experience, I thought of the Tom Hanks movie when he is stuck in an airport and spends weeks in limbo, living in a construction site, and adapting to life as a persona-non-grata, man without a country. Doing a remarkable job of using the resources he finds in the building to 'make-do' and provide a life for himself.

The new wing of the terminal that is apparently mostly Delta flights, though in use, is incomplete. At one point I looked up at the (leaking ) ceiling, to discover the overhead lighting is bulbs on cords, dangling through the grid work designed to hold acoustical tiles. And the lampshades on the bulbs are aluminum pie pans with holes cut in the middle to reflect the light down. Just in case all the international travelers coming into the GA capitol city, did not know how inventive us rednecks can be when called up to use duct tape and bailing wire.