Preface: I got there and back, safely, so Yay and all that. If this really is the worst travel weekend ever, I'll take it. But it still sucked.
I was headed to Des Moines. For Sarah's (and Harold's but you know) wedding. As I was waiting and waiting until the last minute to book my tickets to see if the price would drop (it did not), I asked Sarah repeatedly why she couldn't have a destination wedding, to some place someone would actually WANT to go. Ultimately I pricelined a trip and got it $100 cheaper than the going rate, on Delta through Atlanta on the way and Detroit on the way back. My layover in ATL was just 35 minutes, and I was a bit concerned about that, busiest airport and all, lots of terminals. My brother reassured me that I'd be fine, that the volume delays happened once you hit ATL, not before. He took me to the airport (since James had jetted off to Rochester earlier that morning -- a story for another day) and, since he has security clearance, we had lunch together and he delivered me to my gate. We boarded the plane on time, taxied away from the gate, and then the fun began.
We were sitting on the runway (or probably not the official runway, I don't know how these things work, the feeder? whatever) and at first nothing was amiss, even at RDU sometimes there are lines to leave, but then the minutes started creeping by. Eventually the pilot announced that there had been a medical issue, but it was resolved now, and we were back in line for takeoff. And we moved about five feet. Then the pilot announced that there was a thunderstorm just outside Atlanta, so the FAA had issued a groundstop. "We're going to take you back to a gate, but we're just going to park there until we get an update in 45 minutes. No one's getting off." Yaaay. I texted Kevin. He replied that flight tracker was showing we were halfway to Atlanta. No such luck. He checked my connecting flight and luckily it was also delayed. Still hope! The pilot came back on and said that there was still no update, and they were going to let people get off the plane if they wanted BUT STAY IN THE GATE AREA. Some people had already determined they were going to miss their connection, so they got off to rebook or whatever. About five minutes after they let people off the plane, when it was starting to get quite uncomfortably hot just sitting there, the pilot announced that the groundstop had been lifted and we were going to leave momentarily, so everyone had to get back on. We left Raleigh about an hour late.
We touched down in Atlanta about 4 pm -- 25 minutes after my flight to Des Moines was supposed to leave originally. Kevin was on hand to text me, however, and let me know that it was now delayed until 5 pm "so you should be fine." But ALAS. We had landed but were now sitting on the runway going nowhere AGAIN. After a while, the pilot announced: "Folks, I'm sorry for the delay but someone on a plane up ahead of us got up to use the bathroom when they weren't supposed to." Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Finally we started moving. About 4:20 we rolled up to our gate.
It was closed.
"As you may have noticed, there's lightning in the area," said our helpful pilot. "But the whole airport is experiencing this, so you may still be able to make your connections." My brother opined: "They never close the ramp for US when it storms."
Another 15 minutes elapsed. Finally the ramp opened and we de-planed. We were told to try to make our connecting flights. We had landed at B3. My connection to DSM, Kevin had informed me, was leaving from, I believe, C27. Of course this was a whole terminal away, AT THE OTHER END OF THE TERMINAL. I should mention, here, that I had worked in the morning, and I wanted to look decent when I arrived in DSM, so I was wearing a skirt and platform heels.
As I was racing past the giant TV screens of arrivals and departures, I noticed that my flight was boarding. Things appeared to be going my way -- I made the inter-terminal train, and a nice guy helped me get my bag up the giant escalator. As I got to the mid-point of Terminal C, however, I noticed that the departures board was now showing my flight CLOSED. I thought it was a bit odd that they hadn't, you know, paged me or something, since they knew I was at the airport, on their own stupid Delta flight from RDU. Nonetheless, I continued to my gate. I arrived at 4:54. The plane was still there. (Kevin told me later it didn't actually push back from the gate until 5:08.) I went to the next gate, where there was actually a gate agent.
"Did the flight to Des Moines already leave?" I, Captain Obvious, asked. Sweat trickled down my back.
"Yep, it's gone," said the surly gate agent. She did however take my boarding pass and look me up in the computer. Things did not improve. "You need to go to customer service," she said. "They had re-booked you through Minneapolis, but that flight left at 4:48."
DELTA IS STUPID.
Before making my way to customer service, I got my flip flops out of my bag. At least I was prepared. And I no longer cared about looking cute. At customer service, the supremely bored customer service agent explained that they hadn't held the plane for me (or the three other passengers that were trying to make the same connection) because they'd re-booked me (us) without having bothered to, I don't know, MENTION THAT FACT. The customer service agent made some calls. "I can get you on a flight to Memphis, connecting to Des Moines. But they're overbooked, so I don't know if you'll make it on, and there's weather in Memphis." Why, YES, that sounds like a good plan. Also, MEMPHIS IS STUPID. There was a direct flight to Des Moines leaving at 9. It would get me in only an hour later than the connection through Memphis. I asked if she could put me on it. She did.
I got dinner. I finished my book that was supposed to last me the whole trip, and that I had just started on the flight from RDU. The airport was FULL of people who were dealing with their own hellish travel delays. There was nowhere to sit. We'd had a gate assigned to our flight since about 6pm, back in Terminal B, but the previous flight leaving from that gate (to Tallahassee) was delayed. So around 8:30 they announced a gate change. To Terminal A. All of us who had been sitting there for HOURS raced to Terminal A since we were supposed to be boarding at this point. We got to the gate. And that's when they put up the "delayed" sign on the board at the gate.
Luckily (?) we were only delayed about a half-hour at that point and made it to Des Moines at 10:50 local time. I think Sarah should have just eloped. But the wedding (ceremony) was nice.
On the way back, I got up at 4:45am. I had just gone to bed at 1:45ish. My flight was supposed to leave at 6:28, and was on time when I checked in at 5:30. (Imagine my surprise that there was a LINE at security in DES MOINES at the CRACK OF DAWN.) When I got to my gate (one of eight in the whole airport), I noticed that the flight was still showing "on time" but suddenly "on time" was 7:10 am.
"Mechanical issues," announced the gate agent, rebooking me on United to Chicago at 8:05 and then American from Chicago to RDU. Mechanical issues, at least, get you a meal voucher ($6) and since they were booking me on a different airline, I got a voucher for future travel ($50)(that'll go far...). I went over to the United gate. I stopped for a mocha and a muffin, which made me like Delta a bit more. About 7:15 a gate agent arrived over there, and promptly switched the "delayed" sign on.
"Weather in Chicago," he said. "It'll be about an hour. You'll definitely miss your connection to RDU, and then the next flight out isn't until 10pm. You might want to go back to Delta and see if they can help you."
I trotted back over to Delta. The sign was now showing an "on-time" departure of 8:15. There was still a massive line. I called customer care. She booked me on the next flight to Detroit (my original connection) leaving at 10:05am, then a flight to RDU at 2. I still had to go up to the gate to get my boarding passes printed, since they don't have kiosks at DSM. At the gate, one agent said to the other, "Just put her back on the original flight, it's going to go soon." They did that. I went to buy James and Patrick some cow tipping t-shirts and settled in at the gate. Just in time for the next announcement: "Well, folks, they're telling us it's a minor mechanical issue, it'll take about 10 minutes to fix. ... But that's what they've been saying all morning. So we'll change the departure time to 9 and try for that." (Still showing "on-time.")
At 9, an automated announcement came over the loudspeaker. It informed us that our flight had been delayed. THANKS, DELTA. I went BACK up to the gate, and asked if I could get a seat on the 10:05, as people were arriving for that and it was all set to go. (I would never have thought to do this, but I heard the gate agent doing it for people.) She gave me the last seat on the 10:05 and assured me that I would be on whichever flight left first.
Which was the 10:05 flight, at 10:05. The 6:28 flight was still delayed, and I have no idea if/when they took off. The rest of my trip was uneventful. Haaaaa.
Patrick is two and a half today. People keep telling me I need to provide him a sibling. This is what I get for not telling people I was pregnant last year. It turns out I tend to agree with these people, but I am really starting to get tired of hearing it. If it had gone as (I) planned, Patrick would be a big brother in one month's time. Of course, he's perfectly happy to still be an only, and as James pointed out, I wouldn't want to be pregnant in this heat. Which is true, but I'd rather be pregnant in this heat than not. ANYWAY.
Patrick is wearing big boy undies (almost) full-time now. He's a smart kid, and he figured that he could just go in his pull-ups, so he did. Thus, no more pull-ups. This unfortunately means way more laundry but on the other hand, no more diapers to buy. I wouldn't be doing this yet (probably) except he seems to be 95% potty trained at daycare. His teacher told me this morning that while they were outside on the playground last week, Patrick decided he had to go, so he ... went. On the playground. This is my/our fault. If he's outside, I tell him to drop his pants and go. I figure if he's able to identify the urge, that counts for me. Plus, his 4-year-old buddy next door goes in the woods. Sorry about that, Patrick, hope you didn't get into too much trouble at daycare.
Patrick made me coffee last night in the bathtub. He poured it from one container to the other and then he gave us both a cup, but he cautioned me that it was hot, and then he took a sip anyway and yelped that he burned his tongue. Then he made me take a sip. I'm not quite sure what to make of this child. Ha.
