We Know Why You Fly

I have finally decided that a higher power is trying to tell me that I should turn in my American Airlines frequent flier miles and avoid future travel with that carrier. Against my better judgement (and to avoid a plane change in Albuquerque on my new favorite airline Southwest), I opted for a non-stop jaunt from The Big D into Tucson. The ride into Tucson went smoothly, although they held us in the tarmac for an extra 30 minutes prior to departure. You gotta love it when there are bags checked for passenger John Doe, but he's not on the plane. The problem is eventually resolved and the flight attendants begin their pre-flight announcements.

As is my usual routine, I took my Dramamine and fell asleep the minute the plane took off. I woke up as we skidded into Tucson International Airport - not a bad way to travel, especially when there are lots of cranky babies on board. Not so good when the plane never leaves the airport (see previous post).

This afternoon I headed back to the airport for the routine flight home, but could not shake a feeling that something was not going to go right on this final leg of the trip. Perhaps it was the fact that when I checked in online, the boarding pass would not print in a font size that was readable. To an OCD traveler - this is a big deal. We get to the airport, take some pictures and I hug the family and we say our goodbyes. I head off to security and they head back to the homestead over an hour away. The gate area is packed...this flight has obviously been oversold and I wait for the usual volunteer requests for travel vouchers in exchange for seats. Instead, 10 minutes after we are supposed to be boarding, the gate agent announces that a line of thunderstorms are approaching DFW airport and all flights in and out of that location have been delayed or re-routed to alternate locations. Our flight has now been delayed an hour.

Thunderstorms equal turbulence. Turbulence equals motion sickness. Motion sickness equals agony. Having already taken my usual dose of my trusty Dramamine upon arriving at the airport, I realize that it will most likely begin to wear off before the plane gets into the air and I would be in for a world of hurt. So I decide to take a half dose as a back up...just in case.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for all of you on flight 666 to DFW, we are canceling this flight (insert devilish laughter similar to The Count on Sesame Street). Please make your way to the ticket counters at gates A7 and A8 to arrange for alternate flights."

Flashback to the disaster that was my non-trip to NYC. Except this time I am not at home. I call the Customer Service number for American and am told that there are no flights on any airline going into DFW at this time. They could; however, book me on a flight with United that would take me to Denver, where I would then change planes and take a later flight into Dallas that night IF THE WEATHER PERMITTED. Nice...let's roll the dice and and see just how far away from your final destination we can leave you stranded. The only alternative is to get on a flight the following day, but they can't assign me a seat until I come back and check in at the airport.

I attempt to reach my mom on her cell phone; however, I get a recording that says this customer is not available. My stomach begins to churn. I call her home phone and leave a message - knowing that it will be at least an hour and a half before they receive it...and another hour and a half before they can come back and pick me up.

The Dramamine is really kicking in at this point. Thank goodness Tucson has free WiFi access. I power up the Mac and struggle to stay awake as I read news and periodically post updates on Facebook and Twitter. Before I become incoherent, I shoot off a quick email from my GMail account to my new boss and my fellow manager who covered for me on Friday (Like everyone at work needs to know my cheesy MSN email address). She calls me and reassures me that she will handle everything until I get back.

Struggling to keep my eyes open.....Not...going...to...make...it. I resort to taking pictures with my iPhone, which become increasingly blurry as my hand/eye coordination tanks.

(I really wasn't hateful that this little family of backpackers had made it to their destination with no issues......really).

My mom calls and wakes me out of my daze. They are heading back to the airport to pick me up and will be there...in an hour and 15 minutes. We agree on a meeting point and I pack up all my gear and make my way down towards the baggage claim area. I park myself in a chair right outside of the door and wait..and wait...wait...wait....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The next thing I know, my mom is calling to let me know they will be there in a few minutes. I apparently was asleep, head lolling off to the side, with a very attractive accessory of drool sliding down my chin.

I bet I made a classy looking first impression for people coming in and out of that baggage claim area.

I am considering writing to American to advise them to change their slogan from "We know why you fly" to "Fly American - The odds of arriving at your destination are better than a game of Craps".