That was the week that was.

Apparently something happened around the afternoon of the 5th, around the time I arrived in Montreal, that caused my computer to shut itself off. So the cron job that pulls the feeds that keep this blog updated with my various activities couldn’t run. I have no idea why; I can’t tell from the logs what happened. Just that when I got home tonight the computer was powered off.

Getting home today was the suck. Bus from the hotel to the bus station, much faster than I allowed for. Bus from the bus station to the airport, faster than I allowed for. Got to the airport three hours before my flight. Great. But then my flight didn’t take off. For ages. Apparently there was “passing lightning” or something? I never saw any lightning. I definitely saw rain in the morning, but I never saw lightning. So the flight took off over an hour late. I landed in Philadelphia, missed my connection, waited some more, got another flight to National, flew to National.

Then the suck began in earnest.

I got to the SuperShuttle desk and was told there were no vans, there’d be no vans for at least 45 minutes, and I could call the 800 number and get a refund, or I could wait it out, but if I waited longer than 15 minutes, I couldn’t get a refund, because the person went home at 11. Which: what? But whatever. It’s National, right, it’s right on the Blue Line, so I figured I’d just get home that way. I called David and asked if he’d drive me home from Vienna, and he said he would. Great.

I walked back through the airport to the Metro station, I bought a farecard, and I went up to the platform. I realized I was on the wrong side, then I realized the other side was completely inaccessible. As in, blocked off. Empty. Broken. Turns out there are no Blue Line trains between, like, King Street and Rossyln, and no Yellow Line trains between, like, Braddock Road and L’Enfant. All summer. So there is no way to use the Metro to go north from the airport.

If only I lived in Springfield.

So I went back out of the Metro station (cost: $1.35) and back through the airport, figuring I’d take a cab to where David can pick me up. At least I knew I couldn’t take a cab to Manassas. Taxi stand guy told me he couldn’t let any of the cabs there go to Vienna, they were DC cabs, and handed me a rate sheet. Bless the rate sheet, because it showed Vienna at $34 and Rosslyn at $11. Hey, Rosslyn is where I was going to go on the Blue Line anyway! I asked if I could please go to the Rosslyn Metro station instead. A Virginia cab showed up, he takes credit cards, great, he drove me to Rosslyn (cost: $13).

Keep in mind I’m doing all this while dragging two bags, one of which is the giant rolling duffel that’s really unwieldy in the best of circumstances. It’s really hot (I’ve been in Canada for a week and I thought it was humid there), I’m sweaty, I’m tired and cranky and exhausted.

And now I have to go down the Rosslyn Metro escalator. Which scares the bejeezus out of me and always has.

So I went down, I got on a train to Vienna (cost: $2.35), David was there, he drove me home. On the way we discussed as how I did not ride a boat, a bike, a rickshaw, or a covered wagon today, but I pretty much covered every other form of transportation.

I still don’t know if I can get the thirty-four dollars I prepaid SuperShuttle back, but it feels so good to be home I almost don’t care. This whole week I just hemorrhaged money like it was bad for me and I had to get rid of it. I managed to get home with absolutely no Canadian cash on me through a careful process of overtipping and charity, but it just means I spent more than I need have. I think the cheapest meal I had all week was $10, and most were three times that.

I also had to pay $15 each way to check a bag. It was an award flight, so it was really cheap, I keep telling myself that, but that $15 checked-bag fee is just a big extra kick in the nuts as far as I’m concerned. I spent all my miles to do this trip. It’s time to switch my loyalties to Southwest.