Hell with Wings: The Florida Saga- Part 2

Sorry for the delay everyone...I know you were on the edge of your seats and I took my sweet ass time finishing the story. Well you might have to reread part 1 but it's WORTH it! Cause here is the stunning conclusion to the story!!

So we were sitting on the runway in what appeared to be little more than a prop plane on the runway in Talahassee Florida. The pilot had gone back to the gate to "ctrl, alt, del" us and we seemed to be ready for takeoff. After a quick flight we were in Miami. We landed outside, away from the terminals so we had to take a little bus from the planes to the actual airport. This was an unfortunate situation for more than a couple people who had about 12 minutes to make their connecting flight. We got to the actual airport and they ran-I'd like to think that they made it but since they were having the same luck as we were...I'd say probably not. The Miami airport is sorta strange. It's definitely what you might expect if you imagined an airport in Miami. Lots of scantily clad ladies, lot's of spanish being spoken, and I actually couldn't cross the street from taking Pocky outside cause a dude was salsa dancing in front of a cab. Seriously, I'm not being stereotypical. Not to mention that everywhere I turned I was greeted by a sign that said "Welcome to Miami" immediately causing Will Smith to jump into my head with his immortal "welcome to meyammi"
We had a bunch of time to kill so we decided to get something to eat which was actually really awesome. The plantains were really good. A million points for having Cuban food in an airport! So we boarded the plan for the last (hopefully) leg of the trip. We knew this one was going to be painful since a non-stop from Meyammi to San Francisco is pretty much the longest flight to experience in these continental United States. And we felt every minute of it. It was long, Mike had someone squishing him which in turn squished me which in turn squished Pocky down at my feet. Oddly enough this person that was squishing us happened to be watching the DVD of the movie that was also playing in the plane. Odd enough I know but the crazier thing is that this person was an adult and the movie was Bedtime Stories with Adam Sandler. Creepy huh? I thought so.

But finally, 6 hours later, crossing multiple timezones, and going 3 hours back in time we were home. At the baggage carousel I headed straight for the little room where they take care of lost luggage, since there was a better than average chance that our luggage was not on this side of the country. I go in and start to tell my tale and the dude cuts me off mid-sentence and tells me to wait until all the luggage gets off of this plane. So, I say ok and go back to the carousel. We watch every bag go round and round until there aren't any left. So, this time Mike goes into the room and a lady types some random numbers into the computer and then tells us that our luggage is on the flight coming in from Dallas...our original connection destination if you recall. I say-yeah I doubt it but ok. We move over to that spot, watch every single fucking bag go round and round and round until it stops. This time we both go into the little room and I am ready to crawl over the counter and jam them into one of the unclaimed suitcases. We start the process of starting the lost baggage claim and I just can't stop myself from saying something. It wasn't the fact that our bags were lost, it was the fact that I knew an hour previous that our bags wouldn't be there and we could have been home already.
But as my complaints fall on very very deaf ears I realize that with my lack of sleep and food consumption I probably shouldn't get too worked up since I don't really want to leave here in the back of a cop car or an ambulance. We fill out the form that tells them we have guess what?! a black suitcase with wheels on it, we pile into a cab, 20 minutes from home.
At home, as my head hits the pillow and I am just about asleep, all I can say to myself is: goddamn I hate Florida.