DFW Airport

First let us address my writing, which has been really frustrating.  Between work and being sick, I wasn't able to finish the short story (only four scenes left) or finish editing January.  But I did sign up for another extension class tonight, which makes me feel good.  Last time it was chick lit, this time I'm going to take a course on writing science fiction.

Okay, now for the revelation.  American Airlines wasn't all that bad.  Because of some bad experiences I have been avoiding them.  For three years I haven't had to fly American, but I couldn't avoid it this trip.  So with much trepidation I arrived at DFW three hours early, found a sky cap, and asked which terminal my flight was heading out from.  There are three terminals in DFW that service American and each of those terminals has two different drop off and pick up points, which are in turn separated by two minutes of road.  It can get a little confusing and if you don't get dropped off at the right one it can take you thirty minutes to get to the right one.

Gate C2.  Done.  Was dropped off at terminal C2-C22.  No line at security.  WHA?  Seriously.  In no time at all I verified with another desk agent that yes, my gate was C2.  Grabbed an iced tea from one of a possible two Starbucks, passed a store called "South of C6" and sat down in a comfortable chair in the gate area to work.

An hour and a half later, the gate area was still mostly empty and I began to get suspicious.  After checking with another desk agent I learned that my gate had changed.  D29.  I looked around and didn't see signs or directions to Terminal D.  "You have to take the train," he said.  "Up the escalator over there."

Fine, easy enough.  I take the escalator up what feels like four stories and get on the train.  First the train stops at Terminal C, gates 20something to thirty something.  Then I hear the automated attendant say that we are going to Terminal E next.  Or is it Terminal D?  I listen again.  No Terminal E.  I'm pretty sure.

But doesn't D come after C?  Hurriedly I reviewed my A, B, C's and yes, D was next, but was he saying E or D?  This train wasn't moving very fast and I wasn't sure I could take having to go all the way around again.  So I took a chance and stayed on and sure enough we stopped next at Terminal E.  In five more minutes we finally got to Terminal D.  Makes sense...not, but it wasn't a bad ride.  The train is outside and elevated so I got a good view of a lot of cars and...parking lots.

Terminal D is very large and high tech.  Right above my gate were fifty, 40 inch television screens linked together to form one giant displayorama.  Watched CNN with the rest of my fellow fliers.  Standing beneath the giant screen, our necks craned upward, we were all linked in a mass of...well, drool.  Tired people, watching television in a position where your mouth has to drop open to breathe...you get the picture.

The flight was comfortable, plane a little old, but room for my knees (which is really my barometer for a successful flight) and in three hours we landed at LAX.  Nice.  Pilot was great too.  Felt so good I hoofed it to my car instead of taking the shuttle.  I count it as my exercise for the day.  And if I'm honest with myself, it was my exercise for the week.