While many people fear and dread the idea of air travel, I consider myself a pro. I've got some mad skills.
Security check and shoe removal-no problem.
Stowing carry-on with a line of people waiting-like a boss.
Navigating the tiny airplane bathroom while hitting turbulence-well, lets just say I do a better job than Chris Farley did in the movie "Tommy Boy" (if you have never seen this movie, first, shame on you. Now click here).
My first flight ever, almost a year to the day after September 11th, suffered a lighting strike, airport changes, and a mad dash through the O'Hare airport with an unfortunate (and embarrassing) fall on a moving walkway. After that experience, everything else is a piece of cake. Having traveled a great deal solo in the last year, I've had my share of interesting experiences while flying that make for great stories when I land. This last trip to Boston was no exception.
It being only a few days after the major snowstorm hit New England, I was prepared for delays along the way. I sat in the waiting area after clearing the security check at the La Crosse airport and began chatting with a woman sitting across from me. After a few minutes, we were informed that the flight leaving Chicago to pick us up was running over 30 minutes behind. Being an experienced traveler and knowing the O'Hare airport very well, I know that you never give yourself less than an hour layover. For many reasons. This woman did not know this rule. She had only a 20 minute layover and with a 30 minute delay before every leaving the ground, she was going to miss her connecting flight. I gave her a sympathetic smile and thought, live and learn.
Once we landed in Chicago, I had an hour remaining of my layover time. I grabbed a bite to eat and made it to my gate with plenty of time. Again, the flight take-off was delayed. The pilot informed us that despite the late start, the flight plan had been changed and our landing time would remain the same as originally scheduled. About a half an hour before landing, the pilot informed us that we were on a "hold" due to heavy air traffic coming into the Boston airport. This resulted in another 30 minutes of circling before finally landing.
Now, usually when the plane comes to a stop at the gate, passengers take it as a signal to get up and start the race to get their carry-on out of the overhead bins and claim a spot in the aisle to exit the plane. Not on this flight. The flight attendants came rushing down the aisle, insisting that everyone remain in their seats because law enforcement was coming on the plane. My first thought, and I would imagine that of all my fellow passengers, who did it and what did they do? Did someone mess with the smoke detector in the bathroom? Look at one of the flight attendants wrong? These days, who knows! Two officers boarded the plane and announced the name of the person of interest. For almost a minute, no one moved. I don't think anyone took a breath. We were all waiting for said person to arise from their seat and make their way to the front. Finally, someone stood up. It just so happened the gentleman in question was sitting right next to me! He looked around at all of us surrounding him as if he were pleading for help. We all just looked back at him, all thinking the same thing, "dude, what did you do?" He made his way up the aisle toward the officers who promptly removed him from the plane. When we all finally made it off the plane, we saw the man surrounded by about six armed police at the entrance to the gate.
After all that, it was hard to believe that my return flights would lend nearly as much excitement. That was a mistake. That has now become a new rule, never believe when flying that it can't get more interesting. It always can.
The return flight from Boston to Chicago was turbulent and spent wedged between a snoring woman and a rather smelly Russian man, but otherwise uneventful. It was when the plane touched down, around 4:30pm and the flight attendants gave passengers clearance to use their cell phones that things got interesting. I decided to check my phone for any texts I might have missed in-flight. I noticed I had a voicemail. Before the plane ever made it to the gate I found out that my connecting flight to La Crosse had been cancelled. Yep, American Airlines decided it would be okay to inform me of this via voicemail. Awesome. But they so politely rescheduled me for another flight leaving at 8:30. The next morning.
I de-boarded the plane as quickly as I could and rushed to the first ticketing desk I could. I was told my flight had indeed been cancelled, "due to weather." I looked out the windows to a semi-clear sky with no precipitation of any kind. The lady at the desk said it was a preemptive cancellation because there was the possibility of a large snow storm. Seriously? I thought I was back in the midwest, since when are we afraid of a little snow? She placed me on standby for the next flight to La Crosse, in four hours, along with about 40 other people who were supposed to be on the same flight. So I sat, disgruntled, at the gate for my standby flight. I surveyed the crowd sitting around me and quickly learned that pretty much everyone else was in the same boat I was. I made the acquaintance of a few people around me and after about 15 minutes we had formulated a plan: to get the hell out of Chicago whatever way possible. Four resourceful Wisconsin women, a few phone calls, and a lot of determination got us all on our way out of Chicago. By plane? No. By train? No. We rented a car, split the difference among all of us and drove the 268 miles, or four and a half hours home. In rush hour traffic no less! As it turned out, I work with one of the women at the hospital. The other two were a grandmother/daughter duo. We took turns driving, chatting the whole way. We never even turned the radio on, the long trip went by in a flash.
Quirky travel experiences aside, I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to New England, as I always do. A post about a few of my adventures is yet to come!
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