I should have known the moment I couldn’t find an airport in Bridgeport Connecticut that I was going to have an issue there. I mean what medium size town has no international airport? I searched for almost two weeks and every flight I tried getting brought me into New Haven then kind of just left me there to dangle. So, I gave up and took the Greyhound as you can see in my previous post. If I knew about the Metro train I would have just taken the Greyhound to New York then take the Metro Train to Bridgeport. Anyways, that’s over and done with.
I get to Bridgeport and thankfully my baby sister was there already and we got a ride to where we were staying together by my new step brother. First of all Bridgeport has ONE hotel. I am not kidding. They have one hotel – a holiday Inn. While it was nice we tried booking a room there and it was full. So we were stuck staying at some lady’s place. I personally was not pleased because well, it’s someone’s place.
Aside from the hotel, the most of the people we had contact with outside the family and close family friends were douche bags. I mean these people were horrible. I was walking behind this man into the Greyhound terminal after I got off the bus. I had one medium size suitcase on the wheels dragging, plus a large gym bag over one shoulder, along with my blanket and my purse and camera over a wrist. He saw me walking there. Can you believe he walked through the doors and let it slam on me? A man, saw me with all my crap and instead of at least holding the door until I step in so I can balance it with my hip or something, he simply walked through and let it close in my face.
I was NOT impressed.
Anyways, I karate kicked the wheelchair access button and the door opened. The good side was, when I pressed the one button it opened both sets of doors for me. So I’m in the terminal and thank goodness there was a place to get food. I went over to the counter and stood there. There were TWO cashiers there having a conversation so I stood waiting for them to finish their sentence then see what I wanted. Oh no, that would have been the polite thing for them to do. Instead they kept talking and laughing until I got irritated, slammed my fist into the counter and said “excuse me!”
They didn’t look too pleased that I had interrupted their conversation but after being stuck on two buses for 16 hours, having a door slammed in my face and every muscle in my body throbbing, I couldn’t care less. I ordered my food, watched them make it then carried my loot back to where my sister was. She only wanted a water bottle since she’d packed enough pizza for her three hour trip from Manhattan to Bridgeport to feed an army.
So–finally we got to the house and dropped off our stuff and the madness began.
We stopped first at the dress store to have my sister fitted for her bridesmaid’s dress. What I found so messed up, is she was swimming in the dress after she’d given them her measurements that were professionally taken. I kept pulling the dress up and it kept falling down. The dress wasn’t a little big–it was so big she couldn’t walk around in it without holding it up. The kicker was, she had to pay and added 15 dollars to alter the dress. They made the dress above her size, against her measurement and had the audacity to charge her to fix it so she can wear it. They did the same to my second sister and by that time I was so furious I was spitting fire.
The woman said “It’s not like I made the dress big so I have to alter it.” I glared at her at that moment wanting so badly to punch her. She silently walked away. I was not impressed and neither were my sisters or my father. But we paid the money because let’s face it, it was his wedding day and we didn’t want to cause a fuss. Lets face it–they deliberately made the dresses oversized. There were no other explanations.
We ate at a Subway that same day and that experience was less than stellar. The two cashiers in the place were arguing with each over a man and I was standing there blinking at them thinking “for real?”
Then my step mom (to be at that time) brought us to a mall and pulled into a parking spot. At the same time some crazy lady was pulling into the same spot from the wrong end – she had to drive through another parking spot to get to it so she was coming in the wrong way and almost crashed into my step-mom’s car. Then had the nerve to try and argue with my step-mom. I looked at my sister and asked, “why are these people deliberately pushing me?”
My sister chuckled because she knows me very well and she was thinking the same thing I was thinking if this woman said anything to Mama she’s going to have to deal with the three of us (myself and two sisters). I mean hell, you’re doing something illegal then have nerve to want to start a fight? Anyways, that ended without an issue, Mama got another spot and we went into the store.
When my sister and I were leaving Bridgeport we called a cab to take us to the bus shelter. When the cab came, the driver sat in the car and popped the trunk then watched as my sister and I struggled with our bags and suitcases to put them into the trunk. So with my sister’s help we got the suitcases into the trunk then climbed into the car. We said nothing to the driver. When we paid, I gave him a tip because I am a huge believer in Karma.
Overall, everyone we met, aside from the really cute storekeeper on the corner close to Mama’s place seemed to be in a horrid mood. They were all grumpy and rude and sometimes I wonder why they even left their houses that day. I am not sure what their problem was or if they were just having an off weekend or what but it was a horrible experience.
My only reason for going back to Bridgeport will be to visit my father and his new wife.