The Long Ride Home, Part 2

So there I was, newly released from 20 hours on a plane, with the knowledge that my connecting flight was currently en route to Chicago and I was not aboard.

Hour 28: Keep Calm and Carry On
JFK Airport, New York City, NY, USA

Know what's awesome about JFK?  Those folks know their business.  You get shunted around in their well-oiled-machine of a passport check/customs process like cattle being driven by people who know what they're doing.  Well done, JFK!

And it was a much-needed respite of smoothness by this point.  Stop for a minute and think what you were doing 28 hours ago.  Now flip forward to everything you've done since then up to this moment.  Now imagine that that whole time you have been traveling internationally.  And now you can read in sympathy.

After I getting through passport check, picking up my luggage (yay!  it arrived!), and going through customs, I was routed out to the Delta desk, where a friendly lady rebooked me on the next Delta flight to Chicago.  She told me leave the old bag tags on my suitcases; that China Southern (flights one and two) have a luggage agreement with American Airlines (flight 4), but Delta (flight 3) does not.  So if she re-tags my bags at this point, the ticket no longer has a China Southern flight on it, and so I'd have to pick up my bags again in Chicago.  If I leave them as they are, they will follow me to Fort Wayne.

The fact that I did not find this reasoning suspicious is indication of how exhausted my brain was.  Those bags were tagged for two flights that I would not be taking; one of which was on a whole different airline.  I should have questioned her, but she seemed competent and I was brain dead.  I left my luggage in her charge and headed toward my next gate in blissful ignorance, preparing for my three hour wait and excited about finding real food to eat while enjoying full movement of my arms (challenging in an airplane seat).

In a glorious kiss on the head from God, shortly thereafter I came upon a McDonalds that was serving breakfast.  This was surprising to me, because it felt like about 267 o'clock PM to me, but was actually 9:45 AM.  With great relish and probably disproportional joy, I ate my sausage egg biscuit with cheese meal.  Though I did not know it then, this was to be the best 20 minutes of my day.

Hour 32: Please Won't You Be My (airplane) Neighbor?
Somewhere between NYC and Chicago

[from Leslie's FB feed]

And then there was that time, remember? Hour 32 or so of the trip, when you were crammed into your tiny airline Barbie-plane seat next to that guy about your age, who was also crammed into his tiny seat and he was studiously avoiding making eye contact or small talk and you thought, "Hmm, surly or shy?" and shrugged mentally and popped in your earbuds to continue listening to your audio book. And then as you happily munched your tiny pretzels and slurped your Diet Coke, you accidentally dumped the coke and it poured all over you and the shy-or-surly guy next to you. And your tiny Delta Airlines napkin did nothing as the soda poured off the tray table into your bag, your lap, and his right leg. Then he contributed his tiny napkin, still studiously not making eye contact. And for the rest of the flight, you both tried to pretend nothing was amiss, even though you felt like you had wet your pants. 'Member that? Yep. That was totally par for the course that day.

Hour 35: The Never Ending Story
O'Hare International Airport, Chicago, IL, USA

Ahhh, good old O'Hare.  I have spent so much time in this airport, it practically feels familiar.  But that being said, I wasn't too pumped to get to spend 4 hours there.  I just wanted to be home.  I was next-door to asleep on my feet.  And again, it was time to eat.  I WAS pretty pumped to get a personal deep dish pizza from Uno's however, so that helped my outlook a bit.  Uno's is one of the big Chicago-style deep dish places.  Have I ever blogged about my deep and abiding love for Chicago-style deep dish pizza?  Well, it's there.  Deep and abiding.  So I was excited to have that for supper on this never-ending day.

[let's pause her to note that most travel highlights on this trip involve food]

I got my pizza and headed out to a seat that I knew was slightly less chaotic than the gate area.  I arranged my little box, my Diet Coke, my napkins, and my backpack.  I opened the box and took that first, expectant bite.

I nearly cried.

It wasn't bad.  But it wasn't Chicago style deep dish.  Again, I had been duped, probably mostly because my brain wasn't really working well.  It was...meh.  It was ok.  But disappointing.  Sigh.

After supper, I walked over to my departure gate and settled in.  I had about an hour before boarding.  I dug out my sweater and settled back to try to doze a little while I waited.  About 55 minutes later, I woke up.

I mean, WOKE UP.  Out of a dead sleep.  Ladies and gentlemen, I had fallen hard asleep at O'Hare International Airport.  I cast around mentally for a moment to remember where I was.  I reminded myself that I was already at my gate, and we didn't start boarding for another few minutes, so panicking was unnecessary.  I turned to verify that the information board still read "United 5377 to Fort Wayne."  It said, "United 3409 to LaGuardia, New York."

GAK!!!

Adrenaline pumping, I gathered my bag and raced to the nearest set of departure screens.  My gate had changed.  Of course it had.  E12 now.  

I frantically started speed-walking toward E15.  (yep, you see it.  I didn't)  I rounded a turn and could see it ahead.  Boarding starts now...no need to panic...plenty of time.  I got to E15 and the info board read "Delta 789 to New York JFK".

GAK!!!  I'm trapped in an airport nightmare.  My still-foggy brain couldn't figure out what to do.

I approached the desk uncomfortably close to "in a tizzy" and incoherently asked the agent why my flight wasn't there.

Me: Excuse me...um, my flight was supposed to leave from here, right now, but this says JFK and I'm going to Fort Wayne...?

Agent: Honey, let me see your boarding pass 

[author's note: it's not normal to use pet names for strangers in Chicago.  I was clearly looking befuddled enough to illicit some special treatment]

Agent: Oh, this isn't even a Delta flight, so I can't look it up for you.

Me; *stares in blank confusion at agent* But...um....I don't...so...what...?

Agent: Honey, there are departure screens for United at E7.  Go look there.

Me: E7.  Ok...yah, that's good...thanks...

I spin and head back the way I'd come.  E7.  I can do this.  Boarding started 5 minutes ago.  But I can still make it.  I will NOT have just condemned myself to another 3 hours of waiting for the last flight to Fort Wayne tonight.  NO.  That is NOT happening.

I get to the screens and see my flight, innocently announcing "NOW BOARDING" at gate...E12.  Something clicks in my brain.  Right, I got the 12 and 15 confused.  And I actually walked PAST the correct gate TWICE in my stupor.

Man, it was time for me to be home.

I arrived at E12 to find that they still were boarding, as the incoming flight hadn't arrived yet.  I sat down and caught my breath..My relief at not missing the flight was quickly overshadowed by the fact that my flight was delayed.  Not much yet, but that's never a good sign.

We eventually got on the flight about 30 minutes late.  Then we sat on the tarmac for an hour before we were allowed to take off.  But I mean, that was a relief because there I was, afraid I might not get any more quality tarmac time during the trip.  So, whew!  Dodged that bullet!

Hour 41: All's Well That Ends Crappily, If It Still Ends at Home
Fort Wayne, IN, USA

By the time we got off the plane in Fort Wayne at 10:30 PM, I was so happy to be home that I didn't even care how late it was.  I joined the small trickle of people heading toward the baggage claim and settled in to wait for my two suitcases to arrive.

In a giant surprise to no one, they didn't show.  I stared at the now-still belt for a few minutes as the rest of the passengers dispersed.  I glanced at the two unclaimed bags.  Nope.  Definitely not mine.  I sighed and headed toward the United desk.

Know how many people are working the United desk at 10:30 pm on a Thursday at Fort Wayne International Airport?  

Correctamundo!  None.

Eventually a very nice lady showed up.  She patiently listened and asked questions as, for 30 minutes, we tried to sort out the events of the past 40+ hours.  Four airlines, four flights, and two days.  It was not an easy task.  At one point the woman said to me, "Wow.  You know, I've had a pretty bad day, but you definitely win."  When it was all said and done, however, I had a claim number for my missing suitcases.  

I took the papers she handed me and turned to go to the parking lot.  Through the windows I could see a light but steady rain coming down.  I thought that a jacket would be good.  Know where my jacket was at that moment?

Neither did anyone else.  In my checked luggage, somewhere between New York and Chicago, probably.

I sighed again, and headed out into the night.  After a mere 20 minutes of trudging around in the dark, wet parking lot, I had found my car and was trundling toward my house.  I couldn't wait to be home.

Epilogue

My luggage was eventually to show up on Saturday afternoon, after two days of largely unknown adventures which, judging from the bag tags on the suitcases when they were returned, involved a little stop over in Dallas, Texas.  The fine people at United, who were the least at fault for the disappearance of my luggage, will be paying for about $50 worth of emergency purchases that I made while I awaited my bags.  In the end, I think I made out pretty well.

It's been six days now since I've been back, and I'm still really, really tired.  Jet lag has never hit me this hard.  I'm looking forward to getting back to normal, which I hope will happen within the next few days.  In the meantime I'm enjoying this cute little lamp that I bought in Thailand and that was happily returned to me along with all my other Thai purchases.

Pretty, yes?  

And so, for the rest of my life, I will probably be comparing crappy trips to this one.  It's good to have that one trip that makes every other trip seem...not so bad, right?  Glad I got this one out of the way.