Burton Group called a management meeting in Salt Lake City this week, so today (Sunday) I flew out to Salt Lake City from Boston. That meant I got to:
- Get up at 2 AM so that I could get showered, dressed, and help my wife shovel the driveway with 3" of snow on it.
- Leave the house at 3:45 AM to get to Logan Airport at 4:30 AM. (Route 93 was snow covered--we're into Day Two of a weekend snowstorm--and the speed limit was around 30 MPH.)
- Stand in the snail-paced security line for half an hour. It had a Business Traveler lane that wasn't open, so I got to enjoy the bedlam of the Family lane.
- Sit on the tarmac for two hours waiting for the plane to be de-iced. (The plane was scheduled to take off at 6:30 AM; it took off at 8:30 AM.)
- Sit in the seat in front of the toddler from Hell, named Maggie, who spent most of the two hours on the tarmac screaming at the top of her lungs phrases such as "I can't see!" (when she wanted to look out the window) or "Ow!" or "Wah!" Based on her parents' blase conversation during the entire escapade, it's clear they didn't care about the impact of Maggie's screeching on others, and in fact felt she was expressing her individuality. Happily, once we got into the air, Maggie slept.
- Take a ride on Express Shuttle from the airport to downtown, commanded by a driver who pocketed my $10 at the beginning of the $8 ride without giving me change and then hustled me out of the van at the hotel, no doubt hoping I'd forget that he owed me $2. (His ploy didn't work.)
- Arrive in a room that the front desk assured me had a refrigerator and extra feather pillows, but didn't. (However, to be fair, they were delivered two hours later, interrupting my nap.)