25.5 hours as a prisoner of US Air

I had a great time on my trip last week!! In fact, my friend Tess said it better than I ever could. It was wonderfully weird. I am so so glad that I finally got to meet these girls that have come to mean so much to me. They are the first people I check in with in the morning, and the last people I check on before bed. And I can't wait until we all get to meet again.

But this story begins after the meetup ended.

I checked out of my hotel and took the shuttle to Dulles Airport around 1pm. I was supposed to fly out at 7:25, but the weather channel was calling for storms, so I thought I would try to fly stand-by for a 3:30 flight.

Thankfully, that flight was empty enough that I didn't even have to wait and see. They changed my ticket right then and there. I checked my big suitcase, got my receipt, and headed through security. I went straight to my terminal, and got out my book and waited for 3:30.

And at 3:00, got my first taste of bad news. "Due to mechanical error that cannot be corrected at this time, Flight 1234 to Charlotte, North Carolina has been cancelled. Please see the ticket office to be reticketed."

Lovely. I guess this is what everyone is bitching about lately. Ah well, no big deal. They put me back on the 7:30 flight. With hours to spare, I decided to explore the airport.

All these big airports are nothing like the Little Rock Airport. They are like tiny malls. (And they have duty free stores with all this cool stuff in there, and I am not allowed because I am not traveling out of the country. Ever notice when you can't have something, everything seems nicer??) They even had a Ben and Jerry's. And a pizza place, and a sandwich shop. I ended up just buying a magazine and a water.

Hours pass like days.

I finally get a Subway sandwich just out of boredom.

As it gets closer to 7:00, the terminal starts filling up. I made friends with a girl that has a one-year old, and another that was 22 weeks pregnant. We talked about babies, and birth, and children... and watched the clouds start rolling in.

First, they pushed our flight back to 8:00. Then 8:20. Then 8:40, Then 9:15. Then 9:45... at that time, I knew I would not make my Little Rock connection. I went up to the desk, and the ticket agent confirmed my fear. Not only that, he added to it. "The next flight we can get you on in at 6:55 in the morning."

In the morning??? What??? Like, as in nearly 10 hours from now??

Yes.

He reissues me a ticket for that flight, and then says, "Since you don't have any checked baggage, you can just stay up here until then."

"Um... I do have checked baggage."

He looks at my ticket and says, "No you don't."

I handed him my receipt for my bag, and he seems very confused. He calls on a little radio and a little guy in a raincoat comes in and looks at my receipt and starts to laugh.

"I know RIGHT where that bag is! It did not have a tag on it, and we had to leave it outside."

I have no idea what happened to my tag, as I saw the first guy affix it, but whatever. I am sure that it made things worse that I didn't have any luggage of my own, so I borrowed some from a friend, and my bag said, "Dixon" which is not my last name, all over it. They probably thought it was a bomb or something. (I told Marty as much when I called him to tell him my flight had been cancelled and he screamed at me for uttering the word "bomb" in a Washington DC airport. Since I was already crying at the time, it really wasn't a good time for him to yell at me.)

Raincoat Man tells me that he will send my suitcase through carousel 13. I asked him if I would be able to come back up after that and he said that I would just have to take my suitcase to the US Air office and ask them to keep it overnight, and then I could come back up. Before I went downstairs, I asked a security guard the same question and got the same answer.

I need to explain here why I was concerned. I have only flown one other time in my life. I live in a tiny redneck town in Arkansas. I was nervous about being mugged or raped or kidnapped or beaten. If you are upstairs, you have gone through all the security screenings, and therefore are hopefully not carrying any weapons. It is also carpeted, and warm upstairs.

For those that have not been to Dulles, baggage claim is kind of underground. No carpeting, not really warm. At all. And there are lots of outside doors where criminals could perceivably come in to rape or mug or kidnap people. Or to pick up their loved ones who are flying in. I did not want to stay all night downstairs.

So I go downstairs, collect my wet suitcase, and head to the US Air office. The clerk that was working in there was super nice, but told me that there was no possible way that I could go back upstairs until two hours before my flight. She would not let me leave my suitcase in her possession. She did not offer me a blanket or a pillow. She did tell me that the most comfortable way to sleep was to sit in the chair and prop my legs up on my suitcase. Gee. Thanks.

This is when I called Marty. He told me to call and get a hotel. I decided that sounded like a great idea.

So I called the hotel where I had spent the last two days, and asked if the shuttle could pick me up. She said yes, and asked me what room I was in. I explained that I checked out that morning, but that now my flights were cancelled and I needed to check back in.

She informs me that they are booked up. As are all the other hotels nearby. She even calls to check and make sure that there weren't any last minute openings, and calls me back. There were not.

So. Looks like I am trapped.

I try to settle in, but my nerves were too bad. So instead, I started walking back and forth through the baggage terminal, with all my luggage. My cell phone wouldn't pick up unless I was standing by the doors, which I did not want to do. It isn't long before I see a few of the other people that were upstairs with me. Seems all the flights have been cancelled. So at least I am not alone.

By midnight, I am really starting to get tired and cold. I go to one of the stands and drop a ridiculous amount of money on a sweatshirt and a neck pillow. I try to get comfortable, but it is just impossible. The chairs have arms, set just high enough that it is uncomfortable on your neck and legs to lay across them, and just low enough that your legs don't fit under them. The floor is icy, there is no way you can lay down there.

One thing about it, there were a lot of people to talk to. I spent most of the night with an older couple who were trying to get to Boise Idaho for her dad's heart surgery the next morning. They were not going to make it there and were both really upset.

4:30AM rolls around days later. I finally go check back in and get to go upstairs again, where it is warm. The lucky bastards that did not have luggage checked are spread out all over the nice warm carpet. I want to kick them.

6:30. Guess what? Mechanical problems. Shouldn't take long. 7:30. 8:00. 9:00.

Finally we board. I am not too upset, because my connection at Charlotte leaves at 10:45, which means now I won't have long to wait once I get there. I finally sleep about 45 minutes on the nice, big airplane.

Land in Charlotte. Find my terminal. The first thing I see is that my 10:45 flight now says "Scheduled departure of 11:30". Apparently we do not have a pilot. When they bump it up to noon, I decide I have got to have something to eat, since I have not eaten since around 4:00 the day before. I go find a chicken bagel at some bagel place. Delicious. I am somewhat embarrassed at the way I wolfed that thing down in front of God and everybody.

We board the plane, and I immediately start to panic. It is tiny. Only three seats across. I like big planes. We sit, and we sit and we sit.

Guess what?? "This is your pilot speaking. We have a small mechanical error that we are having fixed, but I am going to have to shut off the engines. It may get a little warm in here, but just be patient with us. We hate to unload you if we don't have to."

So I go from freezing, to a damp, hot, stinky plane. We sit there for a good twenty minutes before they kick the engines back on and everyone starts gulping at the little air blowers above our heads.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your pilot. We have used up too much fuel and now need to be refueled. It should only take a few minutes."

I start to laugh. There is only one thing left. This damn plane is going to crash. God is telling me not to fly. When it crashes, and I get to heaven, he is going to say, "Natalie! How many signs did I have to send you?? I finally just gave up! Welcome to Heaven!"

When we finally take off, it doesn't seem so funny anymore. The turbulence is horrible, and I am gripping the seat in front of me for all I am worth, gritting my teeth to keep from screaming, "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE." I finally either fall asleep or pass out. When I wake, my ears feel like they are going to explode and I can see the Little Rock skyline.

The first thing Marty says to me?

"You look like shit."

There's no place like home.


*all times are approximate.