So today was the major unveiling of the surprise for Mac. We were all going to spend the weekend in Moncks Corner and Mac had no idea. Jimmy left on Thursday night for what Mac thought was a normal business trip and we were following on Friday.
The office driver came to get me at 10am as planned and then we were going to school to pick up Mac and head straight to the aiport.
Except that I got in the car and the driver told me the flight had been cancelled.
So I cried.
And then I re-grouped.
The office magic-worker, officially an "expeditor", was already at the airport to get us checked in and get our boarding passes, and so he was the first to find out that the flight was cancelled.
We knew on Thursday that a big fuel facility at the Miami airport had blown up. But Jimmy's flights went off without a hitch and quite frankly, I never gave that jet fuel fire another thought.
Apparently that jet fuel fire wreaked havoc, though, and created an enormous shortage of fuel for the airport. Our American Airlines plane wasn't able to fly out on Thursday afternoon to spend the night at the Bogota airport to rest up for our Friday morning flight. No airplane = no way to fly to Miami on American Airlines.
So before we left the apartment building driveway, the expeditor and I had both gotten confirmation that we could fly to Miami on LAN. The connection would be very tight but we weren't checking bags, so we were assured we could make the connection to Charleston.
We drove out to Mac's school, I told his teacher what we were doing and I went out to find Mac on the playground. He was very confused as to why I was there and even more confused when I told him we were leaving school and going on a little trip. He wanted to get his backpack and violin but I told him we were leaving them behind.
We started out for the airport, and while my intention had been not to tell him where we were going until he figured it out, I wasn't entirely confident we were going to end up where we were supposed to end up. When he asked for the 12th time where we were going, I told him we were flying on LAN. We've only flown LAN to Argentina, so he automatically guessed that we were going to Buenos Aires.
WRONG. (Although in hindsight, maybe that's where we should have gone!)
I asked him where else LAN flew and he answered "the United States". I then asked him where he'd rather go in the United States more than anything, and he answered "home". I told him we were going home and his eyes immediately got red and watery, so to save face in a good show of maleness, he put his headphones on and looked out the window (but I could see him wiping his eyes).
We arrived at the airport, met the expeditor in the LAN line and made our way up to the counter to get our boarding passes. This is when I knew the trip was ill-fated. We came face to face with the meanest airport agent I've ever met (and I've met A LOT!).
For the first time ever in my life, I'd packed everything we needed into two carry-on bags. We are talking bare minimum. No extras, no "what-if" contingency clothes. I had measured these bags and knew they were within the 45" limit to be considered carry-on for American. There could be no question as to whether these were legal carry-ons.
And then we met the most heinous, meanest agent ever (thanks LAN for that great HR decision) who said the plane was full and that we had to check one of the bags. I told her we had two tickets and were entitled to two carry-on bags. I begged and pleaded and told her that with the change in flight, our once-long layover was down to one hour and 15 minutes and we wouldn't have time to wait for a checked bag. She told me that was American's problem and not hers and that we were only going to be able to carry on one bag so pick which one we wanted to check. I cried to no avail. Ultimately I checked a bag, knowing that unless a miracle happened, we wouldn't make the connection.
And alas, the universe must have been fresh out of miracles on Friday night because we missed the connection.
We got to Miami, cleared Immigration and would have had time to make the connection had we not had to wait 35 minutes for that little bag to come out. Ours was the last bag to exit the plane.
Coincidence? I think not.
I think that mean woman at the LAN counter put a note on it that said to put it in the darkest, deepest part of the luggage hold so it would be the last one to come out.
With our bags, Mac and I took off at a sprint. But we had 12 minutes from the time we got the bag to the time the plane was supposed to take off to go back through security and make our way to the boarding gate. We gave it our best shot. We ran, hitched a ride on one of those airport carts and made it to the gate at 9:18 for a flight that departed at 9:15. (More tears ensued.)
Our next encounter was with a very surly American agent with whom we tried to re-book. The next flight to Charleston was the next afternoon at 1pm so I tried to get a connection to Columbia or Charlotte or anywhere remotely close, but was told that everything was already booked up because there had been so many flight cancellations due to the fuel shortage.
Before we re-booked anything and because my mind was shot and very discombobulated, I decided I needed to talk to Jimmy or my mom. I no longer have a US-based cell phone so we went to a pay phone bank. Do you remember pay phones? Well you should put them out of your mind from here on out because they don't work. I tried to place a collect call to my mom and Jimmy's mom, but their phones don't accept collect calls anymore. I tried to tell the AT&T man that I was sure my mother would accept a collect call from me, but he said her number was blocked against collect calls. I didn't have any US money on me at that point so we had to then find a bank machine, get money, go to a store, and buy a $4 bottle of water so I could get some quarters in change. We went back to the phone bank and the stupid change slot was blocked. I could not get the money to go into the phone to make a pay call.
Now on the plane from Bogota to Miami, Mac and I had discussed the possibility that we might not make the connection and we decided (knowing that we wouldn't get to SC until the next afternoon which would mean we'd have about 36 non-sleeping hours there) that if we didn't make the Friday night connection, we'd blow off SC and go to Disneyworld for 2 days. We even decided we'd spend one day in the Magic Kingdom and one day in Epcot. So I was ready to blow off this snide woman at the American counter and find a rental car to drive to Orlando, but when push came to shove, Mac got upset and said he really wanted to go to SC. So then I had to go back to that mean woman to re-book us on the 1pm flight to Charleston the next afternoon.
After we'd re-booked, I asked her if I could get a hotel voucher from American. She informed me that they were all out of those because they'd had so many stranded passengers. She went on to tell me that there were no hotel rooms available in the Miami area because there were so many stranded passengers. I asked her where I was supposed to spend the night and she said she didn't know, that that was my problem. (Thanks, American Airlines, for that great HR decision.)
I then asked her if there was Wi-Fi anywhere in the airport so I could at least send emails to people to tell them what was going on and to try and find a hotel room. She informed me that the Admirals Club had Wi-Fi. I told her that I didn't have an Admirals Club membership and could she give me a pass. She told me I could buy one. (A big fat double thanks, American, on your employee-of-the-year hiring decision.)
It might have been at this point that I wanted to jump over the counter and hit her. I'm not sure because the flashbacks of wanting to throttle somebody on this trip are so numerous.
I cried (again) and told her I just wanted a little help. She - in a very surly voice - told me that she was trying to help me. Wow, don't do me any favors, lady.
We then set off for the Admirals Club where I intended to cry my way in. Mac asked me on the walk there to please stop crying because I was embarrassing him. Whatever.
Once we got to the Admirals Club, I found the only sympathetic person I met on the whole outbound trip. I blubbered through telling this woman that we were stranded, I couldn't use the pay phones and needed internet access and could we please use a computer. She said without hesitation "of course" and then called upstairs to tell them that a "very upset lady" was coming upstairs. (She was very discreet in her whispering, but I heard her!)
We used the computer and found no hotels in the greater Miami area. I also emailed Jimmy, my mom and Jimmy's mom. Jimmy was with friends and they managed to find us a hotel room in Boca Raton. I don't know southern Florida very well at all, and I assumed Boca was just around the corner from the airport. Had I known how far away it really was, we probably would have just crashed in the Admirals Club for the night (which was staying open all night due to all the cancellations). But I really felt like we had a big "X" on our backs since we'd crashed the club and I kept waiting for somebody to come escort us impostors out. Plus I was sweaty from all that running and the idea of a hotel sounded great so I could take a nice, long shower.
Once we got all our communications taken care of, we went to the taxi stand to catch our $140 taxi to Boca.
Yes, you read that correctly.
140 smackers.
To spend the night at a not-so-nice Holiday Inn Express.
That was in Boca Raton WEST.
West being the key word to indicate that the beach is nowhere nearby.
Yay for us!
When I was thinking about what I'd write for this day's "attitude of gratitude" entry, I have to tell you there wasn't a whole lot that I was thankful for on this travel day. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Literally.
It was one of those travel days where you think that maybe God is trying to tell you not to get on the plane.
What I am thankful for, though, is a travel buddy in Mac who never lost hope or faith that we'd make it home. He was such a great sport about everything and never once complained.
Well, except when he told me to stop crying. That was sort of a complaint. But other than that, he was the ideal travel partner, and for that I'm truly grateful.
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