My Weekend - Part 2

Have you ever noticed that when you have a three day weekend, you have to pay for that holiday?  The Friday before Memorial Day wasn't so bad but this past week has been brutal.  So busy that I just couldn't get around to posting here and finishing up part 2 of my journey home from several weeks ago. 

If you read part 1, you know that my aunt passed away rather suddenly and I had to fly to Atlanta for the funeral.  The only silver lining to a funeral is that you get to see people that you may not have seen for years - - in my case, my cousin that lives in New York.  It was a treat to spend several days catching up with her.

The funeral itself, while it brought me to tears, was truly a celebration of my aunt's life.  It was wonderful to see how many people and lives she touched - - how inspiring. 

That was on a Saturday and I was departing on Sunday morning to return home.  I had only gotten maybe four hours of sleep for the last few nights so I woke on Sunday morning feeling less than bright and cheery.  I had to connect through Dallas once again and, as always seems to be the case, my departing flight did not leave Atlanta on time.  Why is that?  Is it just me or are all flights late out of Atlanta?  My layover in Dallas was an hour so I was starting to become concerned when we finally boarded.  Hooray!

Not so fast!  We hadn't been in the air more than an hour when the captain came over the speaker to announce that since there were storms in Dallas (actually tornadoes and thunderstorms) we were having to reroute around Dallas and fly in from the west side.  Which would add approximately an hour to our trip and make it impossible for me to make my connection.  What are you going to do?  (Clearly nothing when you're just a passenger.)

I had digested this information and was thinking it was a good thing I had an early-ish flight when not long after the captain began speaking again.  Due to the rerouting we were out of fuel.  Umm, excuse me?  Surely this can't be good.  We were going to have to land at the closest airport where we could fuel up - - Abilene.   Hooray?
 
Definitely not happy campers on board.  Some began asking the flight attendants if they could get off the plane in Abilene, others bemoan this bad luck.  Surprisingly, I felt almost zen about this.  No type A personality rearing its ugly head on my shoulders. 

We land in Abilene, where it's bright and sunny.  No signs whatsoever of any kind of storms. Interesting.  No idea how far Abilene is from Dallas but clearly far enough to have its own weather.  We sit on the runway . . . for a good hour.  We were apparently the third plane in line for fuel.  Oh, and just to keep things interesting, we have also not been cleared for takeoff.  So we can fuel up but we can't go anywhere.  And better - - Abilene has two or three schools and all of them are having graduation ceremonies on this weekend.  So there are no hotel rooms or rental cars available.  Classic.

Needless to say, no one got off the plane (the drought of hotel rooms and rental cars was bad enough but I'm sure being told they couldn't get back on the plane after getting off sealed the deal.)  We were finally given clearance to take off and flew into the western side of Dallas.  Rainy, gray and packed full of people.  I have never seen so many people in the airport in my life.

I disembarked at gate C27 and ran to the first airline employee I could find.  Despite arriving nearly three hours after my connection was to have departed I was informed that my flight had not yet left and if I hurried, I may be able to make it.  Yes!  Success!

I ran as quickly as I possibly could to the Skylink (Dallas' version of a plane train) and crammed on board with quite possibly every person travelling in Texas.  The doors shut and then . . . nothing. 

Have you ever been inside a subway or train car, packed to the gills, that doesn't move?  No movement, no sound, nothing.  Me being me, I immediately start thinking what a sitting duck that car is and feel myself begin to sweat.

The PA system comes on with an announcement.  The Skylink will be delayed by several minutes due to a car becoming unattached to the train. 

Seriously.  I am not joking.  This return trip has turned into a comedy of errors. 

A few other people like me - - running late, tired and feeling claustrophobic - - attempt to pry open the doors with our hands.  No luck.   We are stuck until the errant car is reattached.  My mind fills with mental images of that runaway car.  How did it become unattached?  Speed bump?  Bored teens?  What?  And were there people on board?  Are they just standing in this car while it rolls the tracks?

After three or four minutes, there is a ding and we are moving - - finally!  The Skylink manages to deposit me, still safely attached to the train, at the A gate and I rush to A34, where my extremely delayed plane still is.   Unfortunately, however, the gate door closed sixty seconds before I arrived and if you travel enough you know that once that door closes, no one is getting through.

Sixty seconds.  If the Skylink had not been delayed, I would have made that flight.  If we had not run out of fuel (seriously!) I would have been able to eat lunch and then make that flight.

I am politely told that there is another flight back home, scheduled to depart in thirty or so minutes and if I hurry (yes, that sounds familiar) I may be able to make it.  Said flight is boarding at C29.

C29?  I just came from C27!  No!  Am I being Punk'd?  I grab my rolling bag (getting quite a workout) and run back to the Skylink to go back where I started.

Along with (it seems) thousands of other frustrated, impatient, hungry and unhappy people.

I am put on standby and told to watch the screens and stay close by.  Watching the screen, I learn that I am number eighty on the standby list.  NUMBER. EIGHTY.  No way am I getting on this flight.  To make things even more exciting, this is the last scheduled flight to leave Dallas for home. 

To make this already long post more brief, I spent several hours commiserating with others in front of C29.  I didn't leave the area - - no bathroom break, no quick food run - - out of fear that the moment I stepped away, they would call my name.  I continued to go back and check every twenty or so minutes, being very polite to the poor agents who had to deal with a lot of tempers, naming every airport I could think of within four hours' drive time of my home.  Each suggestion was met with "They are also on standby."

I emailed my office to state that I was stuck in Dallas with no idea how and when I would leave (but was being told the next day at the earliest by airport employees) and called the pet hotel that was boarding my dog to let them know I would not be returning home to pick him up that day.  I was preparing to jump on Yelp to find the closest halfway decent hotel/motel by the airport when they paged me.  Yes!  It had to be good news!

They got me on a flight just over an hour away from my home!  Yes!  I would figure out exactly how to get home from LAX once I got there but provided we took off (more flights were being grounded and cancelled than taking off), I was on my way.

I bid a fond farewell to my airport compatriots, we wished each other good luck, and I was shortly back in the friendly (although dark and threatening) skies.  I had now been awake almost twenty-four hours.

The flight to LA was unmemorable (thank God) other than the fact that I had to check my carry-on bag due to shortage of room on the plane.  We landed safely and I hurried myself to Baggage Claim, where I would wait for nearly an hour for my lone bag to show up.   The upside was that I got to spend the time with a handsome Air Force man.

So, my bag shows up and I jump on the first car rental bus to come by where I am transported to the off site location to wait in line behind six or so people to pay $140 for a rental car I would have all of ten hours.

What did I learn from this trip?  First, to always do my hair because you never know who you might meet.  Second, pack snacks.  Third, and most importantly, life is too short to sweat the small stuff.  Sure, it was a pain and I encountered difficulty after difficulty but I eventually made it home, exhausted and hungry but none the worse for wear.