The story begins with me trying to be smart. In favorable traffic conditions, Everett is about an hour away from SEA-TAC airport. My flight home was scheduled to depart at 7:30AM Thursday morning, so to avoid waking up at o'dark hundred, I switched hotels Wednesday night. For those of you that don't travel that often, let me break down the hierarchy of Marriott properties for you.
Up at the top of the Marriott food chain are Marriott-branded properties (places that actually have "Marriott" in their name) and the Ritz-Carlton. Below that are places like the Renaissance where you've dropped the Marriott name, but you're still in luxury vacation mode. The next level down is for the business traveler. Topping that list I'd say is the Residence Inn. Geared for the extended stay traveler, RI's have separate sleeping and working/lounging rooms and full kitchens. Below that is the Springhill Suites brand, a notch below the RI. Then we get to the Towneplace Suites. This is where I stayed in Everett and it's a mini-version of what the RI and SS offer. Unfortunately none of those brands had vacancy near the airport for Wednesday night and I was thus demoted to Courtyard. This is the Motel 6 of the Marriott chain--not that there's anything wrong with that. Marriott just opened a brand spanking new Courtyard here in San Antonio by Sea World where we used to live. It looks like a great place to stay. Unfortunately, the Courtyard Southcenter in Tukwila is in desperate need of renovation (read: avoid this hotel if at all possible). So much for brand loyalty.
I made it to my airplane without incident, except for the minor annoyance of not being able to use the self-serve check in kiosk. I figured the computer just didn't like me that day since, as I boarded the aircraft, the gate agent had to key in my ticket manually. I was flying Alaska Airlines for this leg of my trip and my aircraft was a new 737 featuring Alaska livery from 75 years ago, in celebration of Alaska Airline's 75th anniversary. I thought this was pretty cool and as I settled in for takeoff I took notice of the very creative Alaska Airlines timeline painted on the overhead storage bins and stretching the length of the aircraft. Suddenly I became aware of some activity about ten rows in front of me. A passenger vomited. That's always a nice way to start a flight, puking before you even leave the gate. For the next thirty minutes our departure was delayed while flight attendants took a full medical history from the man right there in the aisle. I thought this was a bit ironic considering I can't get into a private room with a doctor without signing what seems like half a dozen HIPAA forms. The attendants relayed the information to a doctor on the phone and finally removed the man and his wife from the aircraft for further examination. The delay ended up only costing us about fifteen minutes by the time we arrived in Dallas. I had plenty of time to get to my new gate and wait for my American Airlines departure to San Antonio. I don't usually fly trip segments on multiple airlines, but this is what came up as the "least cost option" to the company that met my "business requirements"--which of course is the guidance we're admonished to follow by the travel accounting gods in corporate America. That's the last time I pay attention to that advice, and now I have the receipts to prove it. When I tried to board the aircraft with my "boarding pass" I was told it wasn't actually a boarding pass. Apparently three weeks prior when I changed my flight from Friday to Thursday, my good friends at the travel company changed my Alaska segment but never completed the change for my American trip from Dallas to San Antonio. I had to fork over an extra two hundred bucks to get them to let me on the plane and now I was "that guy" that you see rushing to his seat after holding up the entire airplane because he didn't have his shit together. For the record, the flight was already boarding late. By the time all was said and done, I could have flown two round trips to Seattle with what I--that is, what the company--spent on airfare.
The damage to my kitchen ceiling was not as severe as I feared and I decided the repair, mostly cosmetic, could wait. Instead, on late Monday afternoon I undertook the task of mowing the now very scraggly lawn. After my first pass with the tractor, I noticed a more pungent than usual odor of gasoline. I usually spill a few drops when refueling, as I'd just done, but this was really strong. As I started the second pass, I looked down and noticed some fluid by my foot. I thought this was odd, so I stopped the mower, left the engine running, and climbed off the seat to see where the liquid was coming from. As I bent down, I noticed a small leak on the very bottom of the fuel tank.
My first thought was environmental: "Great, a fuel spill. This is going to kill my grass."
My second thought was financial: "Crap, I just filled the tank, how am I going to save the rest of the fuel so it doesn't all go to waste?"
My third thought was more practical, and it overcame the first three: "Holy shit, that's dripping down onto the hot, running engine! EVERYONE PANIC, WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"
I shut off the engine and ran like a madman to get the hose. My wife was across the street talking to the neighbor. I must have looked pretty funny because now I had their attention and they shouted at me to find out what was wrong.
"No problem, just a small fuel leak!" I shouted back as I ran back with the hose to wash down the tractor.
To think, I could have been killed! At least the beer break came early that night.
So while it's always good to be home, it's not always great to come home.
Post Script: This update would have gone out yesterday, August 23rd, but as I was preparing to publish, my wife called from the parking lot of Barnes & Noble to tell me the car wouldn't start--dead battery.
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