Country road, take me home

In this case, the country road happens to be Jet Blue, who finally got their act together and rescheduled my flight for Saturday morning.

I haven't been home in nearly two years, since Christmas of 06, and that's just too long. I have cousins to hug, friends to drink with, and of course, Miss Jean, Mr. Hart, and their neurotic sideshow dog, Max. It's strange to say that I'm excited to go, in light of the recent evacuations and the storm systems still out in the Gulf, but I am excited. I want to sit shivering inside the local coffee shop, knowing that it's above 90 outside and I'm freezing because of the a/c. I want to order a shrimp po-boy and know that it will take longer because they're frying the shrimp right now. I want to drive across the twin spans and see the outline of the CBD when I hit the peak of the bridge, just for a moment before it goes down.

You can take the girl out of the south. You can even make her into a baseball fan who owns a house in Boston. But you can't take the south out of the girl.

I'm coming home!

Paging sanity

Dear Jet Blue,

Your customer service department is run by monkeys. And not the smart ones, either. If you expect me to believe that my flight to New Orleans tomorrow morning is 'on time' and that I can just waltz off the plane into a city whose residents are being discouraged from returning BECAUSE THERE'S NO ELECTRICITY, then you are smoking the crack rock. And as the immortal Whitney Houston told us, "Crack is whack."

Get a clue. Preferably before tomorrow morning because I'm not dragging my ass down to the airport just so you can tell me my flight isn't happening.

Disappointedly yours,
Shiksa Traveler