Monday, May 9, 2016
I was seated in the airport for what was supposed to be a very quick layover.
Less than an hour!
Then I would be home. Earlier than I thought!
I glanced at the departure board and saw a word flash next to my flight:
Yet...I had a backup flight out...they had actually handed me two boarding passes...just in case. I was still good. I just had to wait an extra hour.
Twenty minutes later...that flight was also:
I headed to the American Airlines desk.
"We're closed," the woman behind the desk said. She was eating something.
"Where do I go?"
"A36," she said.
"Where is that?"
She pointed...went back...to what she was eating.
It was three concourses away.
I walked...and walked..and walked...and that's what I saw when I arrived.
There were three hundred of us in line!
I had another problem.
My bag...which didn't have to be checked...was checked...just in case they didn't have enough room on the plane that was no longer going anywhere!
I could rent a car and drive if I had to.
I just wanted to be home!
An hour and a half after getting to the line I stood before the clerk.
"Before you say anything we don't offer any hotel expense relief as this was not our fault - it's an air traffic control problem."
"Is it my fault?" I asked. "Where is my bag?"
"That would be at Terminal E. We have a lot of options for your flight home."
"Not tonight," she said. "But tomorrow!"
"Where do I stay? That hard plastic chair?"
"I don't know," she said, "But we can get you out early."
"Oh, that's just wonderful," I said.
She was able to grasp the sarcasm.
"We'll get you to Chicago and you can get home relatively early in the day."
"I don't know how I can possibly thank you," I said. "Can you get them to hold my bag so I can pick it up?"
"It's at the terminal in the office. No problem."
I actually thanked her.
Then walked...and walked...and walked...to the concourse where I had been two hours before.
I stepped in the office. I wanted my bag...wanted to check into a hotel and wanted to get off my legs which were absolutely devastated.
I handed paperwork to the man.
"Oh, your bag has been rerouted. It's already being loaded onto the plane for your flight."
That was when I lost it.
"ARE YOU F*&$ING KIDDING ME? Did you have someone sitting here waiting to run away with my bag? I just booked the flight!"
"That's how it works," he said. "I can put a trace on it and you will have it within three to four hours. Would you like me to do that?"
"Yes," I said. "And when it gets here, jam it straight up your ass!"
(I wish I would've said that).
Instead I walked out.
I ended up in Chicago to get home from New Hampshire.
30 hours after I got to the airport.
Thankfully, my beautiful wife was going to pick me up.
She left me standing on the curb for 20 minutes.
I was a tad frustrated.
I hate Airlines.
at May 09, 2016
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