My next task is to get on a shuttle to my hotel. This seems completely do-able, even for a directionally challenged person such as myself. I mean, sure I manage to get lost on my way to the mall in the town that I grew up in and once I ended up in Alabama when trying to go to the tag office that is just down the street but I can totally find the shuttle service in the O’Hare airport, right?
No. No, I can not.
I start blindly following these signs that say “Airport Transit” and even though they seem to be taking me away from the general crowd of people I assume that they will lead me to the shuttles because shuttles = transit. I come to one of the signs that is accompanied by the words “exit only” and I SHOW the employee my shuttle slip and ask if that is where I go. And he tells me yes, but he is a lying liar who lies.
Because when I go down that escalator, I am met not by a shuttle but by a train. I do not want to get on a train. The train lady directs me to the elevator and instructs me to walk through the Hilton to get to the shuttles. I get on said elevator, press the button that says HILTON and then find myself at the top of an escalator that looks eerily like the one I was just on. I ride down. And am greeted once again by train lady. I wave at her sheepishly, get back on the elevator AND REPEAT THE ENTIRE PROCESS.
“I have no idea what just happened, I say, I got on the elevator, I pressed the Hilton button and now I’m back here with you again.” She just shakes her head and motions toward the elevator where she GETS ON WITH ME, presses the Hilton button, and points at the Hilton when the doors open. Apparently she does not deem me worth speaking to. I can not blame her.
“First of all, I think you’re magic, I tell her, and second of all please don’t ever tell my husband that I needed help RIDING AN ELEVATOR.”
I walk through the Hilton and find myself in a bus depot, which is most definitely not where my shuttle is. “Take a right out of here and the building is at the end of the street” the guy tells me. Except when I do that I find myself standing in the middle of the airport parking deck. I feel as though something has gone awry. The parking agent takes pity on me and transports me to the other end of the airport where the shuttles are located. Which also happens to be BAGGAGE CLAIM. Which is basically where I exited the airplane to begin with.
(Later on the drive home my husband will interrupt me in the middle of this story to say “For future reference honey, just always go to baggage claim when you get off of a plane.” To which I replied “That is great advice for the next time I fly, WHICH WILL BE NEVER.”)
I recount this tale to the shuttle dispatch verifying my confirmation and he laughs at me and remarks “Oh yeah, those guys up there, they just like to $&*! with tourists.”
What?!
Why would they do that to me? Why? Do I look like the sort of girl you should send wandering out into the city on her own? No I do not. I look like Polly Pocket. I am not even being funny here. That is literally what people call me. I look like someone you should tuck safely on her shuttle and ask kindly where her parents are.
At this point I’m feeling incredibly stressed because my connecting flight was late, I’ve wasted 45 minutes wandering around the airport and my event starts in less than two hours.
The driver waits until we’re safely out of the airport and then pulls out her cell phone and begins chatting with someone about her dinner plans while barreling down the highway. At first I was all
But then I was like, “Wait, she just told someone to go get ten pieces of chicken for a dollar fifty. I don’t know if I am seriously interested in knowing about this chicken’s whereabouts because I am totally starving or seriously freaked out about the health code at this really cheap chicken place.”
And y’all. THIS IS NOT EVEN THE MOST AWKWARD THING THAT HAPPENED. Oh no. That involves me, my undies, and a room service attendant.
About Kayla Aimee
As I live in Chicago, I’ve been to O’Hare many many times and it does take some getting used to, as it’s a pretty huge airport (I mean, did you see the dinosaur bones?) But that was pretty rotten if those people really were *&#$ing with you.
I hope the rest of the trip went better?
It did! And what?! I feel so sad thinking that my BFF-whos-never-met-me was SO CLOSE and yet so far! Also, I never saw dinosaur bones. I have no idea what you are talking about. I am either completely unobservant or you are also messing with me.
No I swear there is like a giant dinosaur skeleton in the middle of the airport! It’s not REAL, just a replica, but it’s a to-scale replica of a Brachiosaurus. (Is my inner-nerd showing?)
I would say that if you ever fly to Chicago again that I would meet you at the airport wearing a snappy chauffeur cap and my half of our BFF necklace and show you the correct way to navigate the airport, but I often get lost driving to the airport and would probably never show up and that would probably just compound your stress.
I then, am apparently crazy because I totally never even saw that! Because you know if I had I’d have been instagram posing with that because of my great love of all things Land Before Time.
I am really sorry that happened to you. Those people are jerks.
But really? You are an amazing storyteller and I love your blog. I love that I am sitting here laughing out loud. You make me laugh, you make me cry – you are really good at this. I wish we were friends in real life so I could just call you whenever I need to laugh.
Have an awesome day.
Also, I want Nintendo to love me and send me Yoshi blankets. Sigh….
Airports are so confusing! I feel badly for people who don’t speak English, because even with that as my native language and advanced degrees, I get lost in many, many airports. I blame it on the airport designers – and also the employees who mess with you.
One time in the Minneapolis airport, I was trying to find my terminal and asked a helpful airport employee where to go. He directed me to the right. I walked a while and became doubtful that this was the right direction, so I stopped another person to ask. They pointed me back the way I came…I eventually found where I was supposed to go. Eventually.
I KNOW right?! The whole time I was wandering around I was thinking “HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS? HOW DO PEOPLE EVER FIGURE OUT HOW TO NAVIGATE AN AIRPORT?!?!”
I also meant to say I laughed at your Polly Pocket reference. You are such a funny, talented writer.
What ever you do – do not use JFK for an international flight. Trust me.
I will totally take your word on this!
Gah, I understand your stress!! I get lost driving in a straight line myself–I always have like 3 GPS’ going at once (Car, Garmin, phone) and then I end up calling my fiance to let him know i’m by a CVS that is on the corner of an intersection and can he please tell me how to get home? Forget walking directions! Why did they stop using neon signs? Those were like, the best invention ever. OOH pretty green lights!! They say…gas station! Oh! That’s where I wanted to go!
O’Hare has to be one of the absolute worst airports to find the shuttles at….I have a decent sense of direction and ended up in circles and lost trying to find the shuttles there last year!
Hope the rest of your trip went better, can’t wait to hear!
I am anxiously awaiting V3 of this story….Thank you for making me laugh!!!!
I am so ridiculously inept at directions. I can’t find my way around the church that I have attended for 10 years. Do you know what sounds like H? The Amazing Race. No no no no no. I would probably end up in the wrong country the very first leg.
I enjoy the mormon-ness of “sounds like H” lol! Yes, how do those people even do that I wonder? I can not read a map. Or a GPS.