Flying Too Close to the Ground

Here I am again… back in the Pennsyl of Vania.

The last blog was just hours before I left for the airport for what was supposed to be a 7AM flight.

HAHA.

Guess again.

What follows will be the account of my 16 hour journey from Fort Myers, FL to Coatesville, PA via Chicago, IL.


Yes... Chicago.

Yes... 16 hours.

No... I wasn't driving.

The flight was a frequent flyer gift from my mother’s reserve due to the need to fly in a huge hurry to attend the funeral of a friend. It was a trip I was not at all anxious to make. It was a trip I would have given pretty many things not to have occurred. It was a trip that was mandatory. So of course it was a nightmare.

The miles were on USAir, an airline I never fly if I can help it. They are rarely on time and the lost luggage stories of friends and family are long enough to fill a blog and a half.

Because USAir could not accommodate my needs, their affiliate United Airlines got the task of getting me to the chapel on time.

Here goes:

I was later than I would have liked to be getting to Fort Myers airport. I had stayed up the night before paying bills, writing a memorial blog, writing a temporary blog for here, packing, and generally taking care of all that crap that one stresses over when leaving home. Mind you, the packing was easy. I was going for a viewing, a funeral, and flying back the next day. One suit, one tie, one pair of dress pants, one collared shirt, wing-tips, one pair of shorts and two tee shirts. Socks were optional since the pants were long enough to hide their existence, but I packed a pair just on principle because my lovely PA friend Shemptini would ride me all day if I didn’t wear socks. (She’s good like that).

I packed in a large suitcase because the last time I was in PA (10 days before) I had to leave things that would not fit into my “queen of the beach” bag. I left my light-up shoes at home as well. I had hoped to bring all the things back that I had left. I took my laptop as I would never leave home without THAT.

Back to the trip… Dear Sweet Momma picks me up at 5AM… 5:07 to be exact because I told her 5:15 and I knew she would be early. She brought me a cup of coffee and a sweet roll for the trip. Traffic was light (as it should be at 5AM) but DSM will not drive over 60…ever. I was a little nervous but not much since SWFL airport is small and it was a Wed.

The drop-off is made and hugs and “I love you’s” exchanged.

Then I hit the terminal.

There was only one line and yes it was my flight. ALL other counters were abandoned. It was nearing boarding time and I still had to check in but I don’t get flustered in airports. I have flown enough to know that eventually everyone who is supposed to get on a plane WILL get on the plane. I was recently reminded of an adventure I took with a friend long ago who had terminal lung and bone cancer. He had wanted to see Wrigley Field before he died and a friend and I went along. On the return trip, we got lost, ran late, goofed off, or all of the above and checked in at ticketing rather late. I remember the words EXACTLY from the countergal.

“You boys may want to run”

My buddy and I took off a-running but our friend who had a hip replaced and was working on one good lung and used a cane was not as mobile. He said he would do his best and thought the smart thing to do would be for us to run ahead and try to hold the plane.

We ran.

When we arrived at the gate the countergal had just shut the door. We explained the situation and were told under NO circumstances would we be making this flight. We begged and pleaded with a headshake every time…

Until Mikey arrived on the tram… with his head bald from chemo and his cane in hand.

She picked up the phone.

The plane was returned to the gate to let us on. Faces were angry as my friend and I walked the aisle of shame towards the seats in the back, but they changed quite a bit after Mikey worked his way behind us. I am reminded of it when I see people quick to anger at situations where one might not have all the facts.

Anyway, back to RSW (the Fort Myers airport code). I noticed on the teeny tiny monitor that my flight, going to O’Hare in Chicago, had been bumped from 7AM to 8AM, which was a good thing since the two gentlemen working the counter checking people in were “heads or tails” to remain alive until I reached them. Honestly, I live in SWFL, where the average age approaches the temperature on any given July day. I understand that ANY line will not be moving in SWFL. This one was no exception. An Air Wisconsin gentleman was trying to help people with self check-in to try to alleviate the backup.


Side tangent… Doesn’t airfare cost enough to staff a counter? I don’t want to ring myself out at the grocery store or at Home Depot or the frickin’ airport! Will I have self haircuts next where I just pay them to use their chair and scissors? Can we go ahead and blow the extra $7/hr and hire someone? Maybe someone collecting Welfare could step in???

Anyway, after winding my way and finally getting the grand prize that was my turn at the counter, I was told that my connector in Chicago going to Philly would be missed and I would be rebooked on the next available. What was to be a half hour layover would now become two and a half. I’ve told this story enough that I don’t remember the exact times spent in each airport, but I darn sure remember the start/finish!

Because I don’t easily rattle, I took my seat assignment and boarding pass with a smile and cracked a joke to the poor septuagenarian working the counter. I had to help him with my bag even though it wasn’t full and I cracked a little joke about “how could I possibly be upset, I was headed to Philly. Any delay would be welcomed.” I think he appreciated the change of demeanor from the panic of the rest of the passengers.

Flight left… oh sometime or another… I slept pretty much from the time my butt hit the seat until the air hostess/flight attendant/stewardess/whatever they are called now woke me up to tell me the local temperature in Chicago. I wasn’t leaving the terminal. I didn’t pay attention to the temperature.

Two hours to kill in Chicago. Ok, I can do that. Every airport has a bar. Hmmm 10:30AM…little too early even for me. (sometimes!)

I found an outlet to recharge the phone. I found a wireless kiosk to connect to (didn’t work, but I wasn’t surprised). I sent 20 text messages and made a dozen phone calls. Everyone who knows me KNOWS there will be some adventure; I had to alert them all! I walked all of terminal B. I went into a couple of bookstores and contemplated lunch before my plane embarked at 1:30, but couldn’t bring myself to spend the 8 bucks for a deli sandwich made at sunup and wrapped in cellophane.

Well I thought it left at 1:30.

I found my gate and was informed that flight had since been bumped an hour later due to weather. Geez.
Now it begins. I bought a pack of chewing gum to kill the coffee/morning/sleep on the plane breath I had working. I’m an excellent bubble blower so I amused myself and several small children around me with almost an hour of blowing bubbles the size of my head and trying not to get them stuck in my mustache and goatee. The kids were amazed.

Update on the flight… add another hour.

More phone calls and text messages. I started a game with my friend Dead Clown whereby we texted each other only in Chicago lyrics. He started with something about me being the "Inspiration" and that my layover would be 25 or 6 to 4. I countered with Wednesday, in the park, I think it was the 9th of July.

This went on until the next addition of 40 minutes to departure time.

Yes… you are thinking what I was thinking.

BAR.

I rewalked Terminal B for the 20th time only to find both bars full. I stopped at one and was about to order a beverage when my phone rang. I grabbed a seat and had a 20 minute conversation with the Sausage Queen of Atlanta. We laughed and she made me smile as only she can with her sweet southern twang. She was reminding me that I owed her dinner because her beloved Bulldogs had outlasted my FL teams in the College World Series. I got no service at the bar during the conversation, so I walked a little farther and found a Quizno’s.

Yes a Quizno’s.

A Quizno’s with beer. Seven dollar drafts to be exact.


I had a couple of Budweisers, talked to a guy on layover headed to Alaska buying sandwiches for his flight (remember when you used to get a meal on a flight?) I chatted up the bartender (Harriet) who I promised I would say goodbye to when I left. She was irked because people never said goodbye to her when they left, they just hurried off. “I have feelings” were her words I believe. I ran up a $30 tab.

By this time the flight had been bumped another 30 minutes and I had texted and called everyone I knew. I joined my fellow flyers to moan in unison until our time came.

It did.

We were corralled onto the jet, ready to roll.

WRONG.

“This is your captain speaking. Due to congestion around Philadelphia airport FAA has grounded us here on the tarmac. Our staff has had a long day as well so please bear with us. We have been told an update will be coming in 30 minutes, but we expect to wait at least an hour until resuming our flight. I will update you in 30 minutes. We apologize for the delay”

Nice.

I struck up a conversation with a gentleman in front of me. He was a last minute add coming from overseas. We were sitting in the emergency exit rows and discussed rallying the passengers. I suggested we tunnel out and he was leaning towards a hostile takeover, having had some flying experience.

The woman next to us seemed oddly frightened.

I was meeting a friend in Philly who was also flying in for the funeral. She was coming from Hawaii. She was concerned that I would be waiting too long in the airport to offer her a ride home. She was due in at 5:30. I was originally due in at 1. She was stuck in Harrisburg refueling because they didn’t have the gas to circle Philly any more.

“This is your captain speaking…
FAA has added another 30 minutes to the delay as expected. We are turning the seatbelt sign off so feel free to travel about the cabin.”

I tried to organize a basketball game and a nature hike. Really, travel about the cabin? Where did he expect us to go? Were we gonna start races? Hide and Seek?

And where the hell is the drink cart!!! My flight buddy in front of me was all over that one!

We started making up fake captain’s announcements…

“This is your captain speaking…

Umm… the airline has gone bankrupt. Your luggage has been seized as an asset and will be auctioned off. We apologize for the inconvenience and thank you again for flying United Airlines. We realize you have a choice in air travel and we’re pretty sure it won’t be us again.”

Eventually the plane took off. We circled Philly for long enough. We met my galpal from Hawaii who arrived before me and scooted out of the Philadelphia Airport….

right into the delay on the Schuylkill Expressway.

I have decided to miss my return flight on United (big surprise) and stay in Philly with dear, dear friends until the first week of August. I took them up on an offer to soak up AC and housesit for them while they are in Mexico. I’m hoping that I will find the time to write all those blogs from the last trip that I put off. I’ve made myself a mental promise to try to blog once a day while they are gone….SO try to keep up.

I can see ‘Box laughing because he thinks he knows it won’t happen. (Bet me a beer Big Man?)

That’s enough for today… I have to go to Walmart for clothes!

By the way, I booked my airfare back.

I’m flying FedEx.