Going to Washington via Newark
Had the opportunity to go on a business trip to our HQ in Washington with work - something unusual as the furthest I usually get to is the lake district and lovely places such as Widnes and Crewe.

Anyway, woke up at 4am to get to Manchester for the 7am flight. Lucky me I got taken to one side whilst checking in my luggage in and had to unload my suitcase for a search. I was the only fecker they did this to. Flight over to Newark was fine.

i got off the plane and went to the terminal for my connecting flight. Looked at the board and it was cancelled. This is the first time I had flown on my own and the first time I'd ever got a connecting flight. Bugger thought I so I went to the Continental airlines desk (which was in chaos) and after being in the wrong queue three times finally got seen to after about an hour.

I was perfectly polite and the very obviously stressed and hassled fella at the desk scribbles on my old ticket and says that I'm fine to use this one for the next flight and I should just go through to the departure lounge.

Here I am taken to one side, have my laptop bag swabbed, the full pat down and baton check and my mouth swabbed. I ask the fella why - as i'd also been checked in Manchester - and he replies that I'd been marked down for a more throrough search.

Well, safety is safety so after the search, I go in to the departure lounge for a couple of beers and to catch the tail end of Portugal Vs Holland in the world cup.

Next thing I notice a kerfuffle at the Continental desk so now nicely relaxed with a couple of ales in my gut I go over to see what's happening.

Turns out Washington is suffering from torential storms and my re-booked flight has been cancelled.

A few of us make the point that we need to be in washington by the next morning - it was now around 8pm US time and and 1am UK time. After several calls and much haggling me and one girl get booked onto an Amtrak leaving at 9.47pm.

We find the station only for that train not to be listed so we use a customer service phone that tells us we need to travel out to Penn station to then get onto the train. Having not a fucking clue where Penn station was and with the prospect of having to fork out a few notes we decide to wait on the off chance that the train passes through Newark airport.

Sure enough one passes through that the board says had come from Penn and was going to union station in Washington. So we jump on the next one at 9.15 even though we had no legit ticket. I managed to avoid detection and ticke checks by pretending I'm asleep.

Around 11.30 and having seen us storming through Philadelphia and several other cities and taking the scene in through one eye the train stops. Half an hour later a guard comes on and tells us all to get off.

Confusion abounds, not least be cause the platform we were on was under repair and there was no way to actually get off it. After installing some temporary walkway over the tracks we are all taken to the main concourse where we are told that we can't go any further as the Potomic had broken it's banks and the line was flooded. In fact we'd arrived in the worst rainfall that Washington had ever seen and a state of emergency was declared.

So we stood around for a few hours and then at 5am a Greyhound coach arrived having had to go all the way south from DC and then working its way from the southeast, east and then northeast of Washington to pick us up in some place called newcaroltown.

I ended up getting to the hotel, via a taxi from union station, at 6.30 am - 1 hour before I was due at the introductory breakfast meeting. I'd now been awake for around 31 hours with a full days work ahead of me plus jet lag.

Not to mention my bag was somewhere in New Jersey, I stank of sweat, ale and the general scum of someone who's been on such a journey. I went to the hotel shop, at least I could brush my teeth, shave and then have a shower, but they were closed for stocktaking.

So, one quick shower later and getting back into my rank combats, t-shirt, sockless and going commando I head up to HQ for the meeting.

Of course everyone was wearing suits and I looked a proper cunt as I was wearing the type of clothes i wear when lounging around the house.

After hearing of my predicament I was kindly taken down to the corporate store when I was fitted out with a red corporate polo shirt resplendant with a lovely hawaiian print.

Day over with, and still without a change of clothes I decided the best course of action would be to simply get pissed on my own in the hotel bar. By the time I went to bed I had been awake for over 48 hours and looked like shit.

Next day I got to meet the CEO of one of the biggest newspaper and media companies in the world in my lovely attire with a hangover and two day stubble. Nobody had told him about my predicament and he looked at me with the kind of shit on the shoes reserve that Prince Philip does when meeting mental patients. I also got pride of place on the corporate broadcast that they did to announce the project I was there to work on.

Finally got my case on the day I was due to go home. The journey back was simple - no problems at all - until I got back to Manchester, picked up my suitcase and there was a massive fucking hole burned in it which ruined my best suit and going out clothes.

Back at work on the Monday, my colleagues, jealous that i got a trip to corporate, had potato shopped various images from hurricane Katrina with me and various rednecks showing our valiant toothless pride in the face of adverse circumstances.

It was only a few days later that I realised the full extent of their mirth when I was asked if I really was raped when I was taken to the local stadium for refuge.

Sorry for length but it makes up for an inverted cock
(spike starski, Sun 10 Sep 2006, 22:31, Reply)