There's no better welcome home to Chicago than a great hot dog from Gene & Jude's, where my husband and I stopped on our way home from my excruciatingly long, non-traveling day at O'Hare. Home we went, met by smiling children, filled with joy and excitement that Mom hadn't really left for a business trip....
No, wait, that was in my dream. Home we went, met by two teenagers,
"Oh, hi Mom," and an irritated SmallBoy,
"MOM! WHY ARE YOU HOME? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN CONNECTICUT!!!"
Apparently I interrupted the plans for the week of male bonding. This was all soothed over when I announced that I was not home for good, but going back in the morning to try once again. Within five minutes, my SmallBoy was pleased as punch and having me watch him Wii (did I ever mention that we DID, in fact, get one?).
We all hung out and just did pretty much nothing for the evening. It was absolutely delightful to spend one more night in the routine of my life, with the ones I love the most (except my brother-in-law...just kidding, ET. The curry soup smelled heavenly).
We didn't rush so much on Tuesday morning, especially since my luggage did not need to be checked. The customer service agents had assured me that it would be awaiting my arrival in White Plains; therefore, I only needed to be at the airport 30 minutes before my flight. My husband and I had plenty of time to get the kids off to school and stop at our favorite coffee shop before heading back for Round Two at O'Hare.
I am the type of person who, despite my own best efforts to be late, cannot stand even being on time. For me, on time is late. I factored in the time to get through security and to get from one side of the United Terminal on Planet O'Hare to the other side and made certain that we arrived about 45-50 minutes prior to my flight.
With the knowledge of the layout of Concourse E/F singed into my visual memory, I planned my route and found my way back to my originally scheduled departure gate, with a quick stop at the airport McD's for a biscuit & OJ, and a brief wave at the shoe shine guy from the day before. I made it in record time. I made it a point to keep checking, religiously, the flight boards for the big yellow letters that announced to the entire terminal delays and cancellations. So far, so good. I was going to get out this time.
I spread out my coat on my seat and nestled into my little corner with my biscuit and my sudoku and waited. The flight was on the board, still scheduled to depart at 10:47am. I called my mother and sister, also scheduled to depart that day, on a much bigger plane and to a much warmer destination. We joked about how if my flight was delayed we should hook up for coffee or a bite to eat, depending on delays. I told them not likely since the flights were still going on time.
As I sat in my "nook,” I watched a mom trying to soothe her restless baby and manage baby, luggage, and stroller all at the same time - she did well, I might add. I had to stop and laugh, though, when I turned my head to see this little pair of gym shoes coming down the escalator. As I looked some more, I noticed that the shoes were attached to a little blond boy with spikey hair, wearing his favorite - or at least, well loved - shirt. This cutie boy was riding down the escalator on his derriere. When he reached the bottom, he walked over to the up side and did the same thing. Clearly bored, this little guy found a fun way to entertain himself.
10:00 came and my flight was still scheduled to depart on time. I was so certain that I was getting on this flight that my previously alleviated, small craft jitters began to return and create a small feeling of anxiety within my chest. I could feel my heart pounding and my breathing get a lot more labored. It actually took a while before I figured out exactly WHY I was feeling like this. I thought about the fact, again, that all of these people in the waiting area must have felt like this at one time or another and then, ultimately got over it - even my favorite business traveler, Bob, if he hadn't already rented a car and driven.
We were scheduled to begin boarding at 10:27. At 10:20, the announcement came that our plane was delayed coming in and would be landing momentarily. We were assured that as soon as the passengers had deplaned and the cleaning crew had gone through, that we would be boarding. I called home and let my husband know what was going on, called my mom and sister and told them that I would most likely NOT be meeting them at the airport for coffee or lunch and to have a safe trip. As I hung up, our departure time, due to the delay on the inbound flight, was pushed to 11:30 - ok, no biggie. That would then put our arrival into White Plains at 2:30 and would still allow me plenty of time to get to the office.
FINALLY I was getting somewhere. The boarding call came at 11:10. I was finally going to make that tarmac walk out to the plane. Thankfully, the weather was nice, cooler than the day before, but still in the 40’s. As I stepped on each little tier of the drop down stairs to the plane, I had to chuckle while fighting the urge to turn and Rock Star Wave to an invisible crowd of screaming fans.
I came back to reality, as I had to duck my head while boarding the plane. WOW, this plane was TINY. I was in seat 1D (no First Class on these planes, so row 1 was "regular" seating…LOL). I struggled to place my computer bag in the miniaturized overhead bin that couldn’t have opened more than 8inches. Maneuvering my way back to my seat involved a bit of a struggle as I tried to balance my purse, my coat, and my nerves as I “settled” into the tiny seat without bumping my head on the overhead bin. Unlike a regular plane, there was no extra room for standing upright. I must have hit my head at least 5 times.
Once all 12 of us, if that, were settled on the plane, the flight attendant asked us to please redistribute ourselves around the plane, since we were all in our assigned seats in the first 6 rows, thus causing the plane to be top heavy. At that moment, my stomach flip-flopped as I worried about the airworthiness of this fine flying machine.
I moved to a seat in the exact middle of the plane; at least if the plane went down, it wouldn’t be because I was sitting in the wrong place. I was wishing there was a beverage service on the plane to help settle my nerves. I fly well. I don’t normally get too jittery. Heck, I flew to Italy with my church choir in October of 2001. That was perfectly lovely. I thought back on Bob – would he have been this jittery? Bob? Hmmm, doubt it.
Centering, feng shui, payers prayed and mantras chanted, I was prepared. Bring it on! In two and a half hours, my biggest worry would only be making certain that I didn’t get lost somewhere in Connecticut.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you for your patience today. Unfortunately, I just received word from the tower that our flight has been cancelled due to the high winds still in the area. Again, we apologize for the inconvenience. Please reenter the terminal and proceed to the customer service counter.”
All I could do was laugh. Laugh and think of Bob who, I imagine, would have been upset to John McEnroe proportions. I didn’t know who to call first, my office, my husband, or my mother and sister who were already at O’Hare waiting for their flight.
As I made the walk to the customer service counter, I dialed my office told them what happened and got the ok to cancel the trip. I called my husband to let him know I’d need a pick up again. I called my mother and sister and arranged to meet at the Starbucks in Concourse B – the one United Airlines concourse I had yet to visit on my “trip.”
It took a bit of chatting, and a bit of my knowledge of corporate travel and dealing with Bob, to convince the counter agent that I was not rebooking on the 1:30 flight that was, in fact, NOT going to get off the ground, as the weather that cancelled my flights for the last 36 hours was only going to get worse as the day dragged on. She reluctantly “de-booked” me from the 1:30 flight and issued me a full refund. I inquired about the status of my baggage which, she, of course, told me I’d need to check with the baggage claim department, as it looked like my baggage had made it to White Plains on the ONE flight that made it out on Monday and had arrived in White Plains at 2:00 in the morning. The irony – even if I had made it on Monday, I would have spent even more hours on the other end just waiting for my luggage.
At Concourse B, I got to meet up with my mother and sister for a few minutes, share some coffee, and send them on their way to sunny Orlando for the trade show they were attending. They laughed at my naiveté about the ease with which I was expecting to retrieve my luggage. I wondered if Bob, in all of his travels, ever had to deal with lost luggage and, if so, how the poor baggage agent dealt with him. I laughed to myself.
I waited in line at the baggage claim counter to find out the status of my suitcase. I knew it was in White Plains, but had no idea what needed to be done for retrieval. I watched the poor man in front of me, fed up with travel woes already, become ever so irritated and angry, that no one had a clue where his luggage ultimately ended up. At least I knew where mine was and only had to deal with getting it returned.
By the time I got to the counter, my clothes were sticking to me from the sweat caused by frustration, warmth from wearing my coat so that it would be one less thing to carry, and from the walk and worry. The baggage lady assured me that my luggage was, in fact, in White Plains (DUH!) and had me fill out a baggage report. She told me that it would arrive back at O’Hare within 24hours and that I could either come to the airport to pick it up or have it delivered C.O.D. to my door. When I weighed the cost of the C.O.D. to the cost of gas and parking and my time waiting for the call, I decided to just pay and have it delivered home.
It finally arrived back at my house at 1:30am Wed night/Thursday morning. That was fun. At least it was home. I know now exactly what to pack in my carry on next time. I tried to get around the whole liquids in the carry on pain, but now realize it might be worth it to just suck it up.
I learned a great deal this week, the main thing being that I made the right decision about leaving the corporate travel industry. The second, that I can now navigate my way through O’Hare blindfolded. Thirdly, that watching stressing over flights just isn’t worth it. I learned that children are great fun to observe as they try to pass the time, shoe shines for women are perfectly acceptable, that puddle jumpers were not built for basketball stars, and that being stuck at the airport for two days could, potentially, cost a pretty penny.
I’m home. It’s Friday. I was supposed to return to Chicago today. I had to laugh this morning when our office closed for a snow day, SmallBoy’s school closed, but the high school that never closes did not fail in maintaining its streak. Had I made it to Connecticut, I would still be there today, sitting, waiting, possibly until tomorrow, for a flight back home, and wasting a perfectly lovely snow day.
Bob – oh him! It turns out that Bob and I, after many years, have now ended up as members of the same church and school community. It funny the first time we ran into each other again, both knew immediately who the other was. I laugh at Bob and rub it in his face that he is the sole reason why I left the travel industry. Boy will he laugh when he reads this! Thanks for the lessons, Bob!!
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