Cleveland Layover

                Went down to Houston last Thursday.  It was the first time I had flown in seven years.  I've been too broke to fly anywhere for the last seven years (my son is almost 6).  I'm still too broke to fly anywhere, but fortunately I didn't have to pay for it. Airfare, hotel, transportation and food (and drinks) were all paid for by Baylor College of Medicine.  It was a crazy experience, starting from pretty much the time I got to the Providence airport.  I was stressed, because all I really knew about the trip was that I was getting flown down to meet with a bunch of high profile medical researchers.  Had I been flying down to interview for an oil rig job, or to get a job on a fishing boat or something like that, I would have been fine.  I used to work on fishing boats.  I've worked in construction off and on for nearly 20 years.  Longshoremen and rig workers are no big deal; they aren't scary.  However, high profile medical researchers are a completely different animal.  I had no idea what I would say.  I had no idea what I was going to look like standing next to the other finalists being flown in.  I tried to convince myself that it was no big deal, even if I did blow it.  "I'm getting burnt on this whole school thing anyway.  I think I just want to get a job, even if it is in software or electrical engineering instead of biomedical."  It didn't really matter what I tried to convince myself; I was stressed.

                To make matters worse, I was late to the airport.  I was rushing around trying to print off a bunch of stuff so that I would have articles to read on the plane.  It was the first time that I have ever flown with a laptop, and I didn't even know if they would let me use it.  Next time I'll just download the pdf's.  Actually, hopefully I'll have a Kindle by the next time I fly.  The girl sitting next to me had one and it looked pretty much awesome.   

                So I was stressed about meeting with a bunch of really educated dudes, and I was stressed because I was running late when I got to the Providence airport.  Apparently you aren't supposed to talk to the airline employees at the ticketing counter anymore.  Or rather, you can if you want to but they only know how to say one word: "Kiosk," as they point at the ATM-looking things in front of the counter. 

                So, I was a little confused, and extremely stressed, but I finally figured out that the employee wanted me to talk to the machine, and the machine wanted me to tell it some magic number so that I could check myself in.  I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to get anywhere by asking the employee what number the machine wanted, so I took out the printed travel confirmation that the Baylor organizer had e-mailed me, hoping it would be more helpful than the airline employee and Kiosk.  It was.  Yeah, it had all kinds of numbers for me to try.  So after I had punched in the seventh confirmation number that I could find on the piece of paper, Kiosk finally told me to talk to the airline employee.  Damn. 

                So I go back to the dude at the counter.  After trying to explain to him three times that Kiosk wasn't being very helpful, I finally just handed him the piece of paper.  Another ten minutes pass, with me watching this guy type slower than my dad while staring at the screen even more blankly than I must have been staring at Kiosk.  He finally decides, "You have already checked in, that's why it won't let you check-in," then hands me my boarding.  "Have a great flight."

                So now I'm really stressed, and really late, and I'm about to go through security.  Never a good combo.  I don't even have to say what happened next, because we all already know that I got patted down and every item in my two carry-on's checked.  Despite this rocky start, I did make the flight, with at least 2 minutes to spare.  "That's your last one," I hear over the airport speaker as I'm walking down the accordion thing.

                As soon as I sat in the seat I was fine.  All the nerves disappeared and I was a 19 year old on a Greyhound bus to Seattle again.  The flight was pretty smooth, and I had a two hour layover in Cleveland.  What are you going to do with two hours to kill in the Cleveland airport?  Beer.  I had two pints then went outside to smoke a cigarette, which meant I that I would have to go through security when I came back in, but I had 50 minutes.  So I sat outside on a bench and smoked a couple of butts and went back in to get in the security line again.  The line was long, but I had 40 minutes, no big deal.  So about 15 minutes later I get to the front of the line, hand the security lady the boarding pass that I had been given in Providence, and feel a sinking feeling as she starts shaking her head "no."  What?!  "You don't have your airline's logo on your pass.  I can't let you through."  What?! 

                So I go back over to the ticket counter where I glare at the smug little kiosk (must have friends in Providence) until an airline employee is done with the 11 year old that was apparently flying alone.  I explain everything to him and he prints me a new boarding pass, this time with the Continental Logo (which is apparently part of some elaborate anti-terrorism measures in the Cleveland airport).  So, after standing in the security line again, and getting every item in my carry-on taken out and checked again, I had exactly ten minutes left to get on the plane.  I dashed to the gate, arriving with exactly eight minutes until flight time, and the plane was gone.

I mean, obviously I was pissed, but you can't really argue with that.  So I walk over to Continental customer help desk.  I get there four minutes before my plane was even supposed to have left, and the lady tells me she can't get me the next flight to Houston is over-booked, but she can put me on stand-by for the 6:00am to Houston.  That would not work.  I was getting picked up at a hotel in Houston at 8:00 in the morning.  That, I could argue with.

                So after asking that she call a manager, and after listening to her say to the person on the other end of the phone, "Yeah.   He missed his flight because he went outside to smoke a cigarette," I started to get a little irritated.  I pointed out to the lady that she had neglected to mention a few facts, and finally after talking to a real manager I got a seat on the last flight.  I wish ol' Kiosk back in Providence could have seen me then. 

                Anyway, I had another two hours to kill in the Cleveland airport.  What are you going to do with two hours to kill in the Cleveland airport?  Beer.  This time I made the flight, but I was probably a little more drunk than I should have been considering where I was going.  I had no choice.  I was stuck in the Cleveland airport.

                Despite the late arrival, and the two hours of sleep that I got, and the hang-over, I think I did really well with all the smart dudes. I'm 1 out of 60 people in the US and abroad going for ten slots, but I have a good feeling about this one.  I should find out in the next few weeks if they are going to offer it to me.

                I am certainly not thrilled by the possibility of being broke for a few more years while I continue to study, but I was completely wowed down there.  The program was unbelievable.  The resources available were unbelievable.  The research being done was unbelievable.  The whole thing was just mind-blowing.  Freaking unbelievable.  I want the knowledge, I want the experience, and I want the job that it will lead to when I 'm done.  Now it's a waiting game.