 And you thought Jack Bauer was having a rough day? Our trusty blogger is giving him a run for his money. Be thankful if your trip to Spokane was uneventful.
Notes from Saturday, Jan 20
(1/20/07) - As I am putting the last of my things in my suitcase, I realize that thanks to shipping some stuff ahead, I am able to have only one big suitcase and one smaller camera bag. Excellent! I am probably going to get nailed with an overweight fee, but it is worth it not to have another suitcase to worry about. I’ve had bad nightmares about this trip for the last few weeks, and it has me kind of spooked.
My roommate for the week, Daphne Backman, and I had it all planned out. Daphne was flying from Manchester, N.H. to Detroit to Minneapolis to Spokane. I was flying Newark to Minneapolis, where we would meet and travel together for the rest of the trip.
I arrive at the airport a couple hours early. Go over to the Northwest Airlines counter to check in.
Newark to Minneapolis – CANCELLED
Rebooked on 7:30 a.m. flight Saturday
NoNoNoNoNoNoNo
I begin to plead my case to an NWA customer service rep but am interrupted by a very irate man who is throwing a hissy fit because he has a four-hour delay and feels he should get compensated.
Customer Service Rep doesn’t seem too fond of irate man. Tells him to wait while she talks to me. And I think just to spite him, she takes a long time with me. I ask her if there is any possible way to get me to Spokane tonight. There is. On Continental and Alaska Airlines.
Through Seattle.
Oh.
So now I’m thinking the karma skating travel gods are just laughing at me, which, I have to admit, they should be considering my previous blog entry. Gratefully I accept the new itinerary and make my way over to Terminal C. I check my large suitcase, and as it sits on the scale the weight reads 49.8 pounds. Excellent!
Then comes security.
Of course I’m pulled for the special check. I have the SSSSS code on my boarding pass once again. I have come to expect it. It’s never a problem. They swab my laptop and camera bag.
“Ma’am, can we talk to you?”
Uh oh.
“Are you taking any medication?”
Yes, why?
“Your laptop is showing positive for explosives.”
*thud*
Now I’ve done a decent amount of traveling in my life, but this is new to me. I get a crowd of TSA officials going through my medicines and comparing it to a list in the Big Red Notebook. I don’t take heart medicine, which is the usual culprit, since (I was told by Keeper of the Big Red Notebook) it comes through your fingertips when you type and leaves a residue. Given the whole nitroglycerin thing, I can see that. But I don’t take it, and I’ve not been playing with explosives, and as far as I know, Huckleberry didn’t plant any when I wasn’t looking.
While the Red Notebook People are going through my laptop bag, another security guy is going through my carry-on.
“What’s this?!?!”
Um, Dasani?
Then comes The Look. The Look that says: you idiot, less than three ounces of liquid means more than your conditioner and hand cream.
Duh. Big fat duh.
I apologize because I completely spazzed. I’ve always tossed a bottle or two of water in my carryon.
Meanwhile, the Red Notebook People decide that I am in fact not going to blow up their aircraft, and I may proceed to my destination.
I must note, however, that I had TWO bottles of Dasani in my carry-on, and the agent only found one.
And when the TSA reads this blog, I’ll be branded an SSSSS person the rest of my life.
As I’m waiting for the plane to finish boarding, a flight attendant says over the loudspeaker, “if anyone on the plane does not want to go to Seattle, this would be the time to exit the aircraft.” I just fight back a snort and remember that I really, really want to get to Spokane.
Daphne and I text message each other. Her flight to Detroit is cancelled. She’s now on American Airlines going to Chicago and maybe, just maybe, someday she’ll actually make it to Spokane.
My plane sat at the gate for an hour as maintenance fixed the broken air conditioner. I chatted with the girl in the window seat, who had just flown in from Berlin and was going to meet a friend in Seattle and drive to Los Angeles just to do it. Sounds like a lot of fun. She fell asleep, though, and didn’t talk the rest of the trip.
Finally airborne, the pilot announces our new estimated arrival time—seven minutes before my flight—the LAST flight—to Spokane takes off. Catherine, the wonderful flight attendant, keeps bringing me updates, and it hopeful that I will make my connection.
The one benefit of flying nonstop Newark to Seattle is that the flight is long enough to have a movie. Actually, we had two and I hadn’t seen either. The one downside of being a last-second passenger is that I didn’t order a vegetarian meal. Tonight’s dinner? Cheeseburgers.
About 30 minutes outside Seattle, the cabin lights come up suddenly and one of the flight attendants asks if there is a doctor, nurse, or EMT aboard. And I’m thinking I doubt she’s going to ask, “So how’d you like your cheeseburger, Doc?” A nurse identifies herself and a small crowd gathers around a passenger about five rows behind me. Then the flight attendant asks if there are any diabetics on board with a glucose meter. Uh oh. That’s not good. I’ve seen firsthand what a glucose crash can do, and 30 minutes is a very long time to wait to be on the ground. Fortunately, the woman across the aisle from me has a meter. I figure we are probably over Spokane and wonder if we’d land there, and if so, would I be able to leave. And then I feel really horrible about thinking so selfishly.
We continue on to Seattle and everyone has to sit until the very large contingent of medical people board the plane to take care of the sick passenger. Then the wonderful Catherine pulls me out, rushes me up to a waiting cart which flies through SeaTac airport and to Alaska Air.
At Alaska Air, the equally wonderful Bridgette gets me checked in and moves my seat up from the middle seat at the rear of the plane.
I am in seat 2A.
And this is not a tiny plane.
Wheeee! I’ve never flown first class before! And I think my gleefulness made me look like a dork, but I didn’t care. I was going to be served beverages in real glasses! (Because broken shards of glass are so much safer than figure skates.) Granted, the flight from Seattle to Spokane is only 33 minutes once airborne, but I thoroughly enjoyed them all with my spacious legroom and wide, comfy seat.
The skating travel gods smiled upon my luggage, which arrived intact, if wet from snow. Daphne had actually managed to arrive on time and graciously waited the 90 minutes for my flight to get there. We got to the Davenport about 1:30 a.m., and she was asleep by 2. Of course for both of us that’s like 5 a.m.
Tomorrow we will not be gracing the early novice dance practice. to top |