Thanks To Delta, I Now Know What It Feels Like To Be A Vagrant

So last week I had to fly to New York for something.  Something that I cannot reveal at this point in time, but when I can I will, so no asking, okay?

Anyway, I absolutely hate flying to begin with for as many reasons as there are types of mustard in my fridge at this very minute, which is way too many, but I make myself conquer my fears and just do it.

The flight out there was not too bad, but the flight home was like that song on that children's show with Lambchop, you know, the one that goes "This is the song that ne-ver ends, yes it goes on and on my friends..."  and then it's repeated 659 times by little sock puppets who are waaaayyy too enthusiastic about singing.  Do you know that song?  It just happens to be the most irritating song in the history of mankind.  But anyway...

We were supposed to leave LaGuardia Airport at 5:00 PM sharp, and our driver was supposed to be at our hotel to pick us up at 3:00 PM, which made me really nervous because I personally didn't feel like two hours was adequate time to drive through New York to the airport and then go through security and all that, but I decided to not be my usual controlling self and just trust that the people who had set up this driver knew more about New York traffic times than I, especially since my hometown doesn't even have a stoplight.

And let me just warn you now that this post is probably going to be lengthy because I am venting here and I want to be as detailed as possible.

So anyway, we, and by we I mean Richard was with me, were in the lobby of our hotel by 2:15 because I am pretty anal about being late, and since the doorman asked me what company my car was with and I told him in a clear, audible voice, and since there were other people waiting in the lobby for their cars and he had already come in a couple of times to inform those people that their cars had arrived, I did not feel like I needed to say the words "Would you please inform me when my car arrives."

At about twenty minutes after three, I gave my husband that "please go and check cause I am fixin' to have a meltdown" look, which he did, only to find our driver sitting directly in front of the lobby waiting.  And the doorman was there, too, just standing there as doormen do.

And anyone who personally knows me knows that one of my biggest pet peeves is being late--it unnerves me to no end--and my second biggest pet peeve is when a driver who can barely speak English tries to put the blame on me by saying "I have been here since twenty 'til.  Didn't you know this?" 

Grrrr.  So I guess he was absent from Chauffeuring 101 the day the teacher said it would be a good idea to let your clients know when you arrive either by physically walking into the lobby or by sending the doorman who is usually standing at the door?

(Of course, our doorman was staring at the car parked directly in front of the lobby--I'm wondering why he didn't just ask the driver who he was there to pick up?  How hard would that have been?)

So anyway, the ride to the airport was... interesting.  I could go on about this, but just imagine a typical New York driver and multiply that times ten because we were now running late. Thank you, Jesus, for getting us to the airport in one piece. 

Security was a mile long of course, but we made it through and actually had a few minutes to spare, much to my surprise.  And just as soon as we got to the gate, they announced that our flight was delayed until 9:00 PM.  

We waited around for a little bit, then a few minutes later, Delta announced that there was a 50/50 chance that the 9:00 PM flight would probably not take off at all because there was a whopper of a mechanical problem (my words, not theirs), so it would probably be best if we all started calling the 800 number to Delta to get re-booked.

So that's what we did.  And the only option for us was to be shuttled over to JFK for a 7:15 PM flight.  So this all involved a lot of walking around the airport and hauling our extremely overpacked carry-ons because we didn't want to check any luggage, and yet another nice, relaxing drive through New York.  Yay.

But we managed to get over to JFK, go through security AGAIN, and then make it to the gate, only to hear an announcement that that flight was delayed.  AGAIN.  This time due to weather.  So we waited.

At about 7:50 PM, we finally boarded.  Of course we were not sitting together because we had been re-booked at the last minute, and beggars can't be choosers now, can they?  And of course we had a connecting flight in Atlanta that would probably be taking off without us at 11:15 PM.  And of course I suddenly had to pee, and oh, how I hate airplane bathrooms, so I decided to hold it.  Plus I was sitting by the window with two people next to me, neither of whom could speak English at all.  The guy was sleeping soundly, and the girl was talking on her phone (go figure), so I was basically trapped.

Then, the pilot announced that we probably had a two hour wait before take-off.  He told us to stay put and not get off the plane, (like they would let us off anyway) because there was a chance we could take off earlier.  But we all knew the truth.  We were stuck.

So sure enough, after we had been sitting at the gate for two hours, he said we would now be making our way to the runway.  The kicker was that there were 47 planes in front of us that had also been delayed.  (And no I didn't randomly make up that number THERE REALLY WERE 47 PLANES AHEAD OF US!)  So we taxied for two more hours.  He'd rev up the engine, go about three feet, then sit still for five minutes.  For two hours we inched our way to take-off.  And you know how I like to exaggerate on this blog?  WELL I AM NOT EXAGGERATING NOW.  We boarded the plane at 7:50 and we took off at 11:50.  Talk about grueling.

(The actual flight was okay, but I couldn't help noticing that there was a RULE BREAKER on board who caused me undue stress.  The girl next to me kept her phone on the whole time.  Listen, people, there is a reason they ask everyone to turn off their cell phones before take-off and that reason is that it can MAKE THE PLANE CRASH!  She was even told to turn it off, but I watched her, and she did NOT, she just slid it into her purse.  I considered passing a note to the flight attendant so she could be properly disciplined and thrown off the plane at 10,000 feet which really should be the punishment for people who put other people's lives in jeopardy.  In the end, I decided to just let God handle it because I had to pee too bad to find a notebook and pen in my giant purse/overnight bag.)

And I haven't even got to the part about feeling like a vagrant yet.

So we got to Atlanta at about two in the morning.  All smiles and happy faces were left in New York on the subway, where it's fun.  I decided that I would be the one to re-book our flight, so I left my husband sprawled out on the floor with the luggage and headed to the Delta ticket counter, thinking they would put us up in a hotel, but NOOOOOOOO.  People were getting pretty ugly.  I was not necessarily angry about the delays, because who wants to get on a plane that has a mechanical problem, or fly with lightening crashing all around, but I really think they could have compensated us a bit more, like maybe a hotel room.  Or at least a meal voucher.

Even bag of peanuts would have been greatly appreciated.

So they booked us on an 8:30ish AM flight which was the first flight to Mobile where our truck was, and our only option was to find a quiet corner of the airport to get some sleep.  Apparently there were a lot of people in the same boat because there were bodies lying all over concourse A.  Almost every row at every gate had someone, and I just did not feel comfortable sleeping across the aisle from a total stranger, so we found an unoccupied corner and lay on the floor with all of our belongings around us, strangely reminiscent of the homeless people I had seen in New York earlier that morning.

I mean the morning before because we were now in a new morning.

(And in the past when I've seen people sleeping in airports I have always thought to myself "I could never sleep in public!")

(But when grandma and grandpa need sleep, they need sleep.)

But before we nodded off to dreamland ,  Richard asked me if I got us seated together, and I was like "Are you kidding?  We're lucky to even get on the flight at all."  Then he said "give me those tickets" in that voice that can be kind of scary if you didn't know he was really a gentle giant, and he left for the ticket counter.  I don't know what he did but he came back with us seated together, two delta blankets, and two meal vouchers for $6.00 apiece, which we were REALLY excited about.  (Free food always puts a smile on our faces, even in the worst of circumstances.  Wheeeee!!!!)

So we slept surprisingly sound for a couple of hours. (My apologies to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport for all the bodily noises coming from the corner of gate A-27.)  We got up feeling and looking completely grungy and gross (kind of like homeless people), but ever ready to spend our $6.00 meal vouchers at Dunkin Donuts.  Then we freshened up ever so slightly in the bathroom, but we were all "WHO REALLY CARES!  WE'RE GOING HOME, TOTO, WE'RE GOING HOME!"

Great big bubble burst just ahead.

We went to our gate to wait for our flight, only to hear about five minutes after we sat down that it had been canceled (not even delayed--canceled), and would we please go to the nearest Delta ticket counter where they would gladly re-book us. 

I can not even tell you how tired and deflated we were.  Our vehicle was only a five hour drive away, and I mentioned that we should just rent a car and drive there or we may never see Buckatunna again.  Richard went to the ticket counter and re-booked us, scored two more meal vouchers, and we were placed on a stand-by flight around 9:30.  At 9:15 the board showed that the flight had been delayed until 11:30.  It was at that time that we decided that we had had enough of this hell called flying, and we made our escape in a rental car.

But not before spending our vouchers at Sbarro.

And I don't know if we were supposed to return the blankets or not, but we didn't.

Take that Delta.

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