My Contradictory Weekend

Saturday from 11a-5p - landed in Denver and was picked up by my SIL Monica. I spent time with her kids, ate milk and cookies, passed on the opportunity to go to a water park that night since I already had plans, watched ninja warrior and old BYU football highlights (mayhaps a man had the remote?), satisfied my nephew by listening to his endless "Hey Jaylee, guess what?"s, and sat and relaxed around the house in my black flip flops.

Saturday from 5p-11p - Was dropped off by Monica at a swanky bar in downtown Denver. I spent the time with 15 other women, ate sushi and edamame, passed on the pomegranate martinis being offered to me, watched the bride-to-be open gifts of lingerie, and sat around the celebration while witnessing a party guest use the man's portion of the matching gift set of sequined g-strings as a surgical mask around her head, all the while in my black high heels.

I had a really great time indulging both sides of my dual life. Being a convert to the church, I will always have experiences in my life that maybe the average born into the church member doesn't. It was a plus that my SIL and the bride-to-be both happen live in Colorado, and so I was able to spend time with each of them and their families.

The plane ride home was not without incident. My plane landed in Las Vegas at 7p. I had a 2 1/2 hour layover (the things we'll endure to save a few dollars), so I figured I would just find my gate and stick my nose in a book. When I was leaving Denver, I was given both boarding passes for my first and second flight, so there was no need to check in when I landed in Vegas. The Vegas airport is ginormous, so I spent a good half hour going back through security and finding my gate. My cell phone battery was dead, and I wasn't wearing a watch, so I decided to sit at my gate for the remainder of the time until it boarded so I wouldn't continuously be looking up at the time. I may have tripped a few times on the way to my gate, and a few dollars may have flown out of my wallet and landed in the bill slot of a very twinkly machine, but don't worry, I caught myself from falling by grabbing onto this arm-like thing that was protruding from it's side (even the airport isn't free of slot machines). Alas, I finally found my gate, which was empty, and the flight information displayed was from the last flight that had boarded at that gate. I bought a pretzel and proceeded to sit down and read for the next two hours. As the time passed on, more people began to show up. I noticed that most of the flight was going to be comprised of a rowing team all wearing the same blue uniformed polo. They were a rowdy bunch, so I moved a few times to escape their loud conversations. What a rowing team from Phoenix was doing in Las Vegas seemed to be a double contradiction, but whatever. The time ticked on and I saw the boarding agents begin to assemble. They announced that the first class passengers could board, and I moved and sat down right next to the door so that I could be one of the first passengers on the plane. I knew my row was one of the last on the plane, and I didn't want to wait for all the passengers who brought their over sized carry-ons try to shove their bags into the overhead compartments. I was lucky and boarded 2nd. As I boarded, I noticed that the plane was very nice, with large leather seats, each with a pillow and blanket laid on it. I found my seat, sat down, and put my nose back in my book. The plane began to fill up, and a few minutes later, a lady came up to me and asked in a very annoyed voice, "What's your seat number?"
I looked at her and said, "It's 26A."
"Well, my friends and I have 26A, 26B, and 26C, so that can't be right."
I fished around in my purse, found my boarding stub, and handed it to her. She located and told an attendant that US Airways had given out the same seat number to two different people. I had my nose back in my book because I knew they would figure it out themselves, and if I had to move, who cares. At this point, everyone is pretty much in their seats, and there's some commotion towards the front of the plane that I can't hear or see. The plane quiets down and everyone watches an attendant come up to me and ask, "Honey, where are you flying to tonight?"
"Phoenix?" I answer in a small voice as if I'm questioning where I'm going.
"Well, honey, this plane is flying to Seattle."

I felt a hundred pairs of eyes turn to look at me.

"You let me get on a plane to Seattle?!" I shouted. I grabbed my bags and rushed off the plane as the hundred pairs of eyes bore a hole into my back. When I got out to the boarding agent, I showed her my boarding ticket which said gate A23, which was where I was. She told me the there was a gate change and that I better hurry because my correct plane was done boarding and the gate was on the other side of the airport. So, I ran as fast as my non-fast running legs would take me and as I approached the correct gate, the boarding agent spotted me and spoke into her walkie talkie, "She's here." I'm guessing there was a phone call made saying there was a stupid girl who got on the wrong plane, and please-o-please, could you delay the plane from taking off so that she can get on it tonight since its was the last flight out of Vegas? I sheepishly walked to the last row on the plane as a hundred pairs of eyes looked at me, questioning the circumstances as to how this lady was able to delay their plane from taking off on time. I sat down between a women flying with her 2 week old baby, who for some reason did not want to take his bottle, even though he clearly was hungry, and the guy who delayed the plane even further because he was in the bathroom throwing up his airport lounge margarita and wasn't able to take his seat during the taxi to the runway.

Maybe I should have been tipped off by the fact that a rowing team was flying to Phoenix, or that luxurious seats were available for a 50 minute flight. Yes, I should have looked at the display board, or paid more attention to the announcement that they "will now begin boarding the plane bound to Seattle." I wonder, if the flight to Seattle hadn't been full, and there was no one assigned to seat 26A, would I be typing this post from Puget Sound, eating my smoked salmon, drinking my Starbucks, while listening to Pearl Jam?