Getting Here is Part of the Struggle! Pt 2

What’s even more frustrating is that she herself is not quite sure what to do. So she resorts to calling her supervisor, and she’ll make the decision on whether or not to let me go.

This makes me even more livid, because CLEARLY, if her supervisor lets me go, then there really was no problem. They just pick and choose who to harass so the airline industry can make bank off my misfortune. But here’s the kicker…This lady holding me up is NOT MAKING A PENNY from my $120…so why is she soo pressed? (I’m still convinced it was her first day…she must’ve still been on that probationary period. Bit of advice…nothing in life is that deep.)

I am feeling more and more like I am on a BAD episode of PUNK’d or Boiling point. Hold on! Don’t lose it!

Ok, so where is this supervisor?
Radio in to base.
Can’t locate supervisor.
Asks another employee…
“YO NO SE.”

Lady, the more time I waste here with you….the later I am to board my flight.
What I don’t want is for my name to be called over the loud-speaker for the “last boarding call” and then to step on the plane and be glared at by all the other passengers already seated with their seatbelts fastened (because the Captain has turned on the fasten seat-belt sign). Yea, I didn’t want to be, “THAT ONE!”...that made everyone else late.

Alright, now I’m starting to sweat.
FINA-FREAKING-LLY!
The supervisor arrives.
An African woman (not sure which country, but it didn’t really matter)…maybe she’ll be a little more understanding as I am heading to an African country (at this point, I’m pulling every card in the book, the international traveler card, the poor student card, there was absolutely NO SHAME in my game!)

So she starts off with the same schpeel about my bag being too big… (and now ladies and gentlemen…time for the ACTING CARD!)
First the lips start to quiver, then the forefinger comes up to the nose, there’s the uncontrollable blinking of the eyes…the staggered speech, the heavy, exacerbated breathing, and then, wait for it, wait for it, WAIT FOR IT…the tears. YES, YOU READ RIGHT! REAL TEARS! On CUE! Can somebody please get this girl an Oscar?!

My little one woman act had drawn the sympathy from a middle-eastern family whose eldest son decided to take it upon himself to plead my case.

Well, this didn’t sit too well with Ms. African Supervisor, who decided to shift focus (and anger, and everything else she might have been feeling towards me, or the fact that internally, she really hated her job…and possibly life) towards him.

This little diversion seemed to work in my favor, because now ALL eyes and ears were focused on the verbal exchange b/w my new advocate and the unrelenting supervisor, thus putting a lot of unwanted pressure on her. Now, she had to cave into the distraught young traveler with the “over-sized” carry-on…right?

She did. But not before sternly warning me to check it in the minute I got on the (blah blah blah…definitely wasn’t listening to her at this point as I high-tailed it to my terminal)

Lesson of the day…When you’re back’s up against the wall…and all else fails…CRY LIKE YOU’RE DICING ONIONS!

All this my friends for a carry-on luggage that fit quite comfortably (with space for another bag) in the overhead compartment of my COACH seat. Such is life.

Now..where was I?