I'm going to sum up Sunday by saying that the journey home was a pain in the ass (though admittedly it could've been worse) and that I think O'Hare and I need to take a break from each other.
I've forgotten when it was that I got up on Sunday, but I remember that afterwards I spent exactly as budgeted in the Dealer's Room (two CDs, one plushie, two boxes of Pocky for gifts), and happily ran into Erika. We wound up going out for lunch with Eurobeat King, Admin of Cosplay.com, and Mel. Thus, we were already long-gone when the hotel evacuation occurred, and only knew that it had happened via cellphone.
Though I was having a good time, alas that I should start to feel rather ill! Nausea plagued me for the rest of the day, making even the smell of food seem really rather nasty. I think this is the first time I've ever been stretched to my physical limits by a con.
The bellhop who helped me with my luggage was absolutely flooring with his kindness and consideration, acting the part of a grandfather, taking me underneath his wing and seeing to it that I got where I needed to go and that all my bags stayed with me. He refused to put my bags in with the other con-goers stuff, and put them in the locked luggage room instead. When I was waiting for the shuttle (looking under the weather might I add), he went and got an armchair for me to sit in!
Wearing the Fancy Flower Erika gave to me, I left the con at about three (waving madly to lionboogy through the shuttle window). Once again, I had the entire freaking bus to myself, and a quiet ride to Reagan (which is, as I had remembered, yellow and escalator-y). Having arrived very early as usual, I was put on an earlier flight to O'Hare.
I arrived in Chicago around ... five, I think, feeling worse as the journey got longer. My connection to the regional airport was supposed to board at seven-thirty, but appeared to have been delayed. The time crept away from me, turning into 8:30, 9:02 ... I wandered back and forth, gazing fondly at Cinnabons but not feeling well enough to eat one. Finally, when it appeared that the plane was there, they changed the gates on us, giving us a mad run for our money in a giant U from one extreme appendage of O'Hare to another. I exchanged typical traveling complaints with a gentleman as we hustled ourselves to the new gate. By the time I got there, I thought I was going to be sick ... but was not. That entire day was hovering on that edge between losing all food and wishing that I would.
Aside from the general lateness issue, there are aspects of flying that I enjoy ... in particular, window seats on night flights. "cities like mardi gras beads and my mother's embroidery," "hills turn to wrinkles as it all falls away"
I got back to the regional airport around ten or so, and I think we were the last flight in for that day. I retrieved all my luggage (staff made it back intact!), and proceeded to realize that despite the lateness of my flight, I was still going to have to wait for my ride back home to arrive. I was so tired, I felt pathetic. Every passenger but me was gone and I still felt ill, so I plopped down on the floor in front of the entrance. I used my bag as a pillow and called people so that being the last non-worker in the airport wouldn't seem so lonely.
By the time my ride arrived, I looked like a dead fish and was just about ready to pass out. I was laughing and crying at the same time, and I couldn't stand up straight anymore. It was surprising how much colder it was. I tried my best to nap the car trip back, and finally fell into bed around midnight.
If I ever manage to find the inclination, I have an issue I'd like to take up with United Airlines ... when I made my reservation, I clearly indicated that I was hearing-impaired and would like help to ensure that I made my connections and such. On the trip, however, I was entirely on my own. Clearly, I made it back and forth, but I did expect some aid somewhere along the line. Yet only one person at the ticket counter even mentioned a thing about it. Thanks for caring!
Yesterday, I figured out perhaps one reason why studying Italian is so difficult for me ... grammatical terms like "transitive verb," "infinitive," and so on have zero meaning to me. I've never envisioned or learned language in such components, and so when he tells me to put the [blank] in front of the [blank] for the [blank blank], it makes no sense. I can't keep the terms in my head because they have no value, and I can't seem to equate them with anything else. I'm worried about my test tomorrow, can you tell? ._.