A Travel Nightmare

I have the worst luck when it comes to getting to the Bacolod Airport. Because of poor transportation timing I have had to change flights, sit at the airport for 10 hours, and pay cabbies far too much for their services. The main problem is that our airport is not actually in Bacolod but 30 minutes north in Silay. This means that to get to the airport you have to ride a shuttle van. As far as I can tell though, there is no set schedule for the vans. They just leave to get you to your flight on time.

Because I refuse to pray at the beginning of my classes with my Catholic students, God hates me, and thus will not allow me to get to the shuttle on time. So I missed my shuttle and had to pay a driver to take me to the airport (at double the cost of the normal shuttle price). Not only that but in negotiating the ride I was getting dangerously close to missing the check in time for my flight. Thank goodness for my driver who drove like a demon and made our 35 minute drive in 20.

So I'm at the airport in time waiting with everyone else who is trying to go to Manila. Because its the Philippines everyone is carrying giant boxes of pasalubong (like souvenirs, but food) and are all over the baggage limit. So the line is long and not moving; and because I freak out about missing flights I'm about to have a conniption in line and start yelling at the mother who won't keep her morbidly obese child on a tighter leash.

And then because I don't even bother to stand up during the school prayers, and God likes to play tricks on my kind of people, my plane decides to board early. So I'm stuck behind super-mom and her zeppelin-like son while they're calling for all passengers to board. So then I get the ticket, get through the minimalist security, and am power walking my way to the plane thinking about how nice it will be to get a nice little nap on the plane to take the edge off of the last hours of horrendous mishaps.

But because I blatantly don't pray, and I'm sure my students are praying for their poor, evil, Sir Tabor's soul, God has other intentions for this flight. The first thing being that I am greeted on the plane by Christmas music. The fact that Christmas music is even a genre of music makes me upset, let alone playing it in September. It is not beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and I don't want to hear music about it, thank you. Only slightly more annoying than the Christmas music is the sound of not one, but three infants crying. And this wasn't plaintive "Mom, I need a new diaper" crying, but the loud, intense "there's something wrong with me!!!!" crying of a baby in pain. The three babies seated within four aisles of my seat take turns crying for the entire hour and half flight, making sure that the cabin is never quiet enough for anyone to rest, relax, have awkward conversation with their neighbor, or even enjoy their Skymall in the peace which they are accustomed to.

So then we land and I bolt out the door of the plane to get away from these people who have clearly been sent by God on behalf of my worried pupils to set me on a right path. But just be sure that the point is clearly made my bag is the last one on the merry-go-round.

What my return trip will be like....I shudder to think.