Here we are in Music City! Well, getting here was a bit of a challenge. And getting a room here was also a challenge, but we’re settled in. Why were all those “prearranged” things so “challenging?” Let’s begin at the beginning.
Phoenix gets my vote for America’s Friendliest Airport. We spoke to several people, from ticket agents to TSA and every single one was courteous and friendly. Of course, there was the one TSA guy who looked at my ID and my boarding pass somewhat suspiciously and fixed me with the practiced TSA-guy evil eye and said, “T.W.?” Jeez, now TSA’s going to grade us on names?
Next stop, Minneapolis/St. Paul. It was green, I’ll give it that. But the people weren’t particularly friendly . . . but they were kind of funny. You know that famous kitchen scene from almost any sitcom where one person’s carrying a tray or plate of food and another turns around and sends the food flying in every direction? Well, I got to see that first hand when the cook, who had JUST finished making Kathy’s breakfast quesadilla brought it to the counter and yelled, “Quesadilla!” Of course, that’s when the other person turned around and they both went, “Oops!” Time for another quesadilla.
Okay, so now three hours later, it’s time to leave Minneapolis/St. Paul. We get on the plane along with everyone else. A lady rushes in at the last minute and has bag trouble since hers is just too big and won’t fit in the teeny-tiny overhead bins. They get her bag sent bag hell along with all the others. We’re a couple of minutes late, but no big deal, yet. . . . “We’re sorry for the delay folks, but the pilot was taken off this flight.” Uh, not good, right? “They’re sending us a new pilot and we expect him to be here in 20-30 minutes. . . Oh, wait, I see him looking through the window at me. That’s the best possible news.”
It still took another 20 minutes, but we got our new pilot and off we went. Now, for the geographically-challenged, you might want to dig out a map for this next part. We ran into turbulance after about another 30 minutes. The turbulance was so bad that they had to discontinue the beverage service. A little while later, the turbulance went away. The “new pilot” came on the intercom. “Hi folks, we’re currently over Omaha, Nebraska. Now that may not seem like the right way to get to Nashville . . .” Maybe we went to Omaha so they could continue the beverage service . . . I wouldn’t know, I’m not a pilot. But I am geographically challenged.
Part three: Nashville. We had a great driver from the airport to the hotel. If you’re ever in Nashville, I highly recommend using Metro Livery service. Rates are good, our driver was fantastic and best of all, he spoke ENGLISH! (He also reminded me a lot of Chris Donnelly.) So, about the room thing. The driver delivers us to Homewood Suites. He points out the door. We walk to the door and enter. We take a left to the main lobby. We take a right in the main lobby to the main lobby reception desk. We listen as a phone call is completed. “. . . that’s right, we may not have a room for them.”
Nah, he couldn’t be talking about us. We had a reservation. A confirmed reservation. And they had a rowdy group that had torn up some rooms the night before. Uh-oh, he was talking about us. The good news is, they got us a room in the Sheraton. So, we’re settled in here in Music City. We haven’t seen Willy Nelson or Dolly Parton or Brad What’s-his-name, but we did get to see a comedy act in Minneapolis/St. Paul and an English-speaking driver in Nashville. What more could we ask for?
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