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March 19, 2006
To The Left Coast And Back
EST to PST to EST
Outbound:
I left for the Left Coast last week, and let me tell you; never, ever, attempt to make a connection through O'Hare when storms are forecast. It has happened to me before, many times, and it happened again. I really should know better. Years ago, I told the bitch who books my travel to never route me through Chicago. Every time she does, it's fucked up. We'll be having a little come to Jesus talk tomorrow.
The airline on which I was booked ran out of planes; they couldn’t get a plane out of anywhere to cover my flight, so they booked me on another airline. I took a little 13 minute jump to their hub only to find out the next direct, and only, flight was fucking delayed by 8 fucking hours. What the hell else can you do except get drunk in some airport bar on ten-dollar beers?
To make a long story short, what should’ve been an 8-hour trip turned into 22 hours. Nightmare, I was wiped out. The last time I stayed awake for 22 hours was at a blog meet.
Inbound:
Had to get up at fucking 3 o'clock in the morning to make an early flight home on my original airline. I'd been there long enough for my body to acclimate to the 3-hour time difference, but I made it. The plane departed on time, and the flight to Chicago was uneventful. Actually it was interesting because I could tune into the cockpit audio. While listening to American 1940 smooth, Delta 342 heavy, squawk is 3680, squawk is 2497, turn left 10 degrees for traffic, contact Salt Lake center on 1928.23 good day, your vectors are true,etc, etc, etc, and on and on and on. There is a lot of traffic up there. Then I hear, Salt Lake center, Bobcat 1 passing 33 for 41 on 095. Well, I knew our heading was 095 so I looked out the port side window, and I'll be damned if there weren't a pair of F16’s right there. Bobcat 1 and Bobcat 2 were so damn close I could identify ‘em, and an F-16 is a small plane. Pretty cool.
We landed at O’Hare about 20 minutes ahead of schedule, and I had no problem making my connection. I’m sitting in my assigned seat, on the port side, waiting for push back when the Capitan comes on the intercom and says there is a problem with the seal on the cargo door, and it will be 30 minutes before a decision is made, and I could use my cell phone, I could even get out of my seat and stretch. Fuck. After about 15 minutes, I get up and go to the Starboard side of the aircraft, look out the window, and see them removing my luggage. Double Fuck. The plane is fucking broken. Shortly thereafter, the Captain announces, this aircraft is broken; the good news is they have another new and improved airplane for us. The bad news is, it won’t be here for 4 hours. Fuck Fuck Fuck…Triple Fuck.
Well, I made it, way late, but I finally landed about 5 hours late. Flying just isn’t what it once was. Every now and again I have one of these trips.
I want to thank my good friend Dax Montana for holding down the fort.
Posted by Yabu at March 19, 2006 12:46 PM | The Past
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... sounds like a helluva trip...
Posted by: Eric at March 19, 2006 03:41 PM
Yeap...it was fucked-up.
Posted by: Yabu at March 19, 2006 04:13 PM
I wish I coulda done better.
Posted by: Dax Montana at March 19, 2006 04:49 PM
You were in Chicago that long and you didn't call??? Hell! We're only 10 minutes from the airport. Next time, call, dammit! We'll at least come treat your (un)happy ass to a cocktail or three!
Posted by: Omnibus Driver at March 20, 2006 12:45 AM
Oh, man, that totally sucks!
I a *really* hoping the next couple of flights are nothing like that...know what I mean?
; )
Posted by: Christina at March 20, 2006 09:08 AM
