How was our Tybee Island experience you might wonder? Well, the first accomplishment of the day was getting out of bed to cancel our car. So much of yesterday had been wasted, then we discovered the Tybee lighthouse was closed on Tuesdays, and today was... Tuesday, and would it all be worth it or just some tacky beach resort?
Our new plan was to visit the Flannery O'Connor childhood home, but a quick online search revealed this did not open until 1 PM. Let's wander round the second floor art galleries of the market area...... Oh, they don't open until ten or ten-thirty. So we left our bags at the hotel and wandered a bit aimlessly until the town woke up. The galleries of local artists located on the second floors of the city market opened. Some interesting pieces but nothing tempted us to pull out a Visa card and take it home. After walking through a few squares and taking more photos we ended up at an English pub, complete with a red phone box, for lunch.
Exactly at one we entered the Flannery O'Connor House as the first and only guests for a private tour. It was our only opportunity to see a home that would truly be classified as middle class. It was lovely with large, uncluttered rooms flooded with light. The guide seemed very happy to have visitors and extended the tour of a small house into nearly an hour event.
Back to the hotel we intended to head off for the frequent cheapo 'every 30 minutes' airport bus shuttle that the Visitor Center had told us about yesterday. Not so fast was the message from the elderly info lady at our hotel, who informed us the shuttle only ran a few times each day. Despite saying she would phone to check for us, she spent 10 minutes doodling around on a laptop before finding the phone number she needed in a desk drawer. By the time she discovered it to be an hourly service on the hour, we had missed the 2 o'clock shuttle we could easily have made. Since the 3 o'clock would be cutting things too fine, a cheapo shuttle therefore became a $40 cab ride.
Surprised again to find ourselves approved for pre-approved TSA whizz-thru check-in, this time on United rather than JetBlue, we found ourselves once more at our departure gate way ahead of time. This time though, the screen showed our flight and several others as 'delayed', with no explanation, and of course no staff member or info desk to talk to. After a lengthy wait with no update in status, and CNN screens around us announcing hurricane horror stories with 35 or so deaths so far, Mike went back out through the security area to talk to the United check-in desk. Unsurprisingly, the news was that if our planned Chicago flight did in fact leave Savannah at any time this evening, and there was still no current news on where the incoming plane for our flight might be, there would certainly not be any possibility of flying on from Chicago before midday tomorrow. A temporary hold was offered on the last two seats of a Houston bound alternative leaving at 6:30 tomorrow morning, so Mike went back through TSA again to rejoin Jan, still 'pre-approved although this time with belt removal and full body scan. After quick discussion, Mike went back out through security to confirm the Houston flights, and to fail completely in convincing United that they should cover the cost of a hotel for the night. Airport help desk staff directed me to a wall display of airport hotels and told me to request 'distressed passenger rate' for my chosen chain. It took a mere eight "no vacancy" calls to eventually find a "last room I have, but it's next to the elevator" at a bargain $180. Then it was back through TSA a third time to collect Jan and our stuff for the hotel shuttle. Or so I thought. The TSA people recognized me on my third loop through their system, but wouldn't let me through with my new boarding card for tomorrow morning. "Where is your boarding card for today?" I failed to impress them with the news that United had ripped all our original papers into little pieces before handing me new ones; I wasn't going any further without going back to United's check-in desk a fourth time. Furthermore, they wouldn't let me just walk back through the empty TSA area, or sidestep their barriers to the exit, until I had phoned Jan to give her the good news she needed to haul both rolling suitcases, my backpack, my jacket, her shoulder bag and her camera from where she was to where I was before I could move anywhere. To much TSA amusement, ("whatever they've been up to, we have it on video"), Jan eventually came into view accompanied by a younger man, a fellow Portlander stranded in Savannah, pulling my suitcase and carrying my backpack. I was released from TSA custody to reclaim my stuff and head out of the airport.
After hotel checkin I inquired about dinner possibilities and was assured there was a local restaurant. But when I asked if it was walking distance, a local and the clerk looked horror struck and a shuttle was called. Fed and relaxed we walked the quarter mile back to our room.
Addendum
Up at 4:00am to get to our flight out of Savannah. Arrived on time in Houston only to find that there had been a small fire on our plane while at the gate. Delay, new gate, new plane, and now we are being tossed around the skies of Colorado.
Posted with Blogsy
No comments:
Post a Comment