Flight Fiasco

Mr. kenju has been wanting to go to the DC area, to visit some of his old college chums and basketball teammates, so our daughter arranged for his plane ticket and he made all the lunch and dinner plans with friends. He was leaving at 7:25 tonight (Tuesday), to be gone until next Monday, when our daughter would drive him back on her way home for the Christmas holidays. She told me that his trip was my Christmas present (she knows I need a break sometimes).

As we left home at 5:15 pm the skies were misting rain and it was chilly. I stopped at the curbside check-in, secured a wheelchair and checked the huge bag he was taking. (I'd swear it weighed 100 lbs.) We learned that the flight had been delayed until 8:25, which wasn't preferable, but not too bad. That would give me time to find some dinner before he boarded. We bravely managed our way through security; taking off coats, hats, scarves, shoes and divesting your pockets of their wares is not easy, especially for someone in a wheelchair.

We found our way to the gates, where we encountered a line of at least 35 people. I bought some dinner and as I started to eat, my cell phone rang. It was dutiful daughter, who had checked on the flight and saw that it was delayed further - to 11:15 pm. Oh, woe was us! Mr. kenju, whose evening meds make him sleepy, would never make it to after 11pm for the flight, let alone landing at midnight and then another 30 miles to drive before they got to her apartment.


I decided to go and stand in the line, to find out if the delay was correct, since the screens were still showing 8:35, and then to check on when he might fly out tomorrow. I got in line behind 2 flight attendants, who asked if there were delays. I said "Yes, and I need to find out about changing the flight until tomorrow." One of them pulled out her Blackberry and checked it for me; 11:15 was correct! She then told me that I would be better off to make any changes online, rather than at the gate. Meanwhile, my cell phone rang again. Daughter had So*thwest on the other line. We could change to a later flight, or wait until 7:00 am tomorrow. Neither of those times was acceptable to mr. kenju, so the decision was made to abort the trip then and think about it later.


I spent the next 30 minutes trying to find out in which line to stand in order to get his luggage back, and after 2 lines and advice from several agents, I finally found the right person to retrieve it - and he did. What a miracle! The phone rang again. Daughter had been told we could get him on the 9:05 plane, which was on time, but that would mean we had to go through security again and get him back upstairs to the gate in a short time.

He didn't want to go through that again. At that point, I was a mass of tangled nerves and had a sore back from tugging the luggage into and out of the car. I stationed mr. kenju at a door and went to get the car - which was quite a trek from our current spot. I picked him up and we finally made it back home. Could you blame me for feeling like a limp, wet washcloth?