"The Journey Is The Destination". Lies, All Lies!

And so I find myself back at it. But this time, just getting here was probably a bigger adventure than anything else I'll experience on this whole trip. They say that the journey is the destination; if that's the case, I want a new destination!

The plans were simple enough, I booked a ticket way back in August (a record in pre-planning for me, by the way) to be in Asia from 11/1 to 12/22. Sounds simple enough, right? And then a few days before I was scheduled to leave I found out that my nephew got last-minute leave from the Marines and would be home.... you guessed it.... the very day I was set to take off. As I hadn't seen him in about a year and the idea of not getting to see him at all while he was home was just too cruel to bear, I decided to push back my departure date to 11/5 so I could at least spend the weekend with him. Still sounds simple, right? And it should have been. The change was made, I received my confirmation email with my new flight info. and I was genuinely pleased with just how perfectly it had all worked out. And then.

And then it all crumbled around me and there was nothing I could do about it. It's a long, grueling story and I shall spare you all of the gory details (you're welcome) but it involved an employee at the airline who had made a mistake when she rebooked me and, rather than admit it, she just cancelled the whole itinerary instead to cover her tracks. Without ever notifying me. I found out completely by chance a day before I was set to go to the airport that my ticket no longer existed. (Let me suffice it to say that Jill White of American Airlines had better never cross my path!) The details of the ensuing panic, chaos, anger, disappointment, begging, pleading, screaming, waiting, calling and hoping defy explanation.

Nearly two weeks after my original departure date (including a couple of days I allowed myself to have a pity party), I finally and fully accepted that the trip wasn't going to happen and I was prepared to let it go. I started making other plans, starting seeing the positives as to why this had happened, even came up with a few things I thought were benefits of the trip being cancelled. I came to complete peace with it. And then.

And then I got a message saying things had been sorted out with the airlines and I should start looking around for another ticket. Sigh. As I was working with an award ticket and it was so close to the date of departure, it was easier said than done. But I found one, albeit a far inferior one to the original. I put it on hold but still had to wait to hear if it would work out or not. Yet another long story short, I finally booked it for good with about 18 hours to spare before take-off. Cue me packing furiously, racing to get last-minute arrangements done and figuring out transport to the airport as well as a place to stay upon landing.

My new flight left at 6:30 am from Dulles Airport on Thursday morning, which meant heading down on the late train the night before, getting in at 1:30 am. Not enough time to be worth getting a hotel, so I decided I could suck it up and just stay up all night. Awesome plan. In case you've ever wondered if you were missing out on anything by hanging out alone at Dulles Airport between the hours of 2 and 5 am, allow me to set your mind at ease... you are not.

Now missing out on a night of sleep before a long flight wouldn't have really been a big deal had I been able to keep my original flight, my glorious, cushy, huge, bed-like seat in first class. When I arrived in Dallas, I would have been able to take a shower and eat some food in the fancy schmancy lounge so I would feel refreshed and clean and ready for the long haul flight. I would have been able to stretch out in my seat 3J under my cushy blanket in my lie-flat seat and effortlessly sleep the equivalent of a full night's sleep, waking up only for purposes of eating genuinely good food served on real dishes, drinking fabulous drinks and watching my own seemingly limitless on-demand entertainment system. But no.

Instead, because I bought my new ticket at the very last minute (and, lest we forget, because Jill White screwed me!), I got stuck back in coach, cramped seats, crappy food and even crappier entertainment system and all (everyone and everything looked red on my screen although it didn't matter much as there was only ONE movie worth watching anyhow). The only saving grace to my fall from grace was that I was able to charm (that, or he took extreme pity on my horribly and obviously exhausted self) the ticket agent in Dallas into moving me to a seat with two empties next to it. Had that not been the case, had I not been able to stretch out some of the time, I just may not have made it. God bless the kindness of southern airline workers!

So, I made it to Seoul. My friend that I'm going to be hanging out with while here was working in another area yesterday so we're meeting up today. It worked out just fine. By the time I arrived last night, having slept only about 6-7 hours cumulatively (never more than 2 at a time, mind you) over the course of the past 48, unshowered, unkempt and wiped out, I was more than happy to just head to my hotel and spend the night on my own. My big plan for the night was to lay low, take the longest, hottest shower in recorded history, and to treat myself to room service and get some much-needed rest. That was until I saw the room service menu in my room. Some of the highlights, in USD:

Latte: $13
Lemonade: $17
Orange juice: $18
Selection of fruits: $35
French fries: $40

And, yes, you did read that right, an order of french fries was indeed $40! Suffice it to say that a smooshed granola bar from the bottom of my suitcase has never tasted so good. The dinner of champions!

Zzzzzzzzz.