Last night, I booked my flight to Chicago for my college homecoming next weekend. Because I'm an idiot, I of course waited until the last minute and had to buy a $350 ticket that gets in at 8pm Friday and leaves again 8am Sunday, so it looks like I'll be partying my brains out for a 36-hour Windy City binge.
The flights that were still available were mostly of the non-non-stop variety, which was disappointing as one would figure there would be more than a couple of direct flights a day between America's second and third biggest cities. As it was, I was given the option (unless I wanted to pay four figures for first class on a non-stop, which I did not) of laying over in such wonderful places as Phoenix, Arizona... Wichita, Kansas... and Orange County, California.
That's right, Orange County. Like the one that starts about 20 miles south of LAX, my starting point. That Orange County.
To give you perspective, here is a map of the projected first and second legs of my trip:
Not only that, but the LAX to Orange Country plane is a TURBOPROP. I don't know exactly what this means in today's commercial air industry, but I picture something that lands on water, like the kind Balloo the Bear flew in the cartoon Tailspin (Disney Afternoon, holla!)
Obviously, this the flight I ended up getting. I mean, cheapest AND most ridiculous? How could I refuse?
Here's the layout of the seats availably for me to pick on the flight.
What I want to know is: what's up with the red section? Is that where they keep the crates with chickens in them? Or the goats? Or maybe there's just a wall there, and that orange seat in the back actually juts out the wall and mans a gun turret or something.
Either way, I'm excited. And clearly, I picked seat A11. I want to be the first one out the cargo drop in the back when Launchpad McQuack careens the plane towards an ancient Amazon Volcano.