Getting There is Half the Fun, Or is it?
First post from Brazil.
Let me tell you a little story about an adventure. It wasn't particularly exciting, but it did have its moments. It wasn't horrible either, but it wasn't great.
I arrived at the San Francisco airport with plenty of time to spare, and then the rain hit, accompanied by a little wind. The powers that be (that'd be the FAA here) decided that the sporadic gusty winds were a danger to flight and delayed the plane from SF to Houston, where I had about 30 minutes to catch my connecting to Sao Paulo, by 3 hours. Fortunately, the connecting flight was also delayed, but unfortunately took off 5 minutes before the plane with me in it arrived. It was late, the eve of Thanksgiving, and the airline that stranded me and 10 others couldn't have cared less. I was left to my own devices until morning. Twelve hours in a virtually empty international airport is disconcerting. I was hungry, tired, and more than anything, I was mad as hell. Morning arrived, the airport woke up, I grabbed a cup of coffee and the ear of the first customer service rep I clapped eyes on. I told him I didn't care if I had to catch a connecting flight from bloody Finland, he had better find me a route to Belo Horizonte. So he did. Rerouted to Panama City, Panama, where the skies weep warm water near constantly, aaaaannnddd missed my connecting flight to Belo Horizonte due to a delay in taking off from Houston. Something about mechanical difficulties arising from a toilet. This time, the airline put me up in a hotel for the night to catch the next flight out the next day. Nice hotel, good restaurant, nothing much to talk about there. I arrive back at the airport early, check in, go to my gate and wait. And wait. Finally, about 10 minutes before the plane is set to depart, I asked a rep what was going on and he said, oh, that flight was changed to a new terminal, sorry, you better run because it's on the other end of the airport. Run? Well, I didn't run, but I hustled my butt as quick as I could and got there in the nick of time. Nicer plane, more empty seats between passengers, nice passengers -- basically it was a blissful ride except that it was 6 hours long. But I made it, luggage intact.
Let me tell you a little story about an adventure. It wasn't particularly exciting, but it did have its moments. It wasn't horrible either, but it wasn't great.
I arrived at the San Francisco airport with plenty of time to spare, and then the rain hit, accompanied by a little wind. The powers that be (that'd be the FAA here) decided that the sporadic gusty winds were a danger to flight and delayed the plane from SF to Houston, where I had about 30 minutes to catch my connecting to Sao Paulo, by 3 hours. Fortunately, the connecting flight was also delayed, but unfortunately took off 5 minutes before the plane with me in it arrived. It was late, the eve of Thanksgiving, and the airline that stranded me and 10 others couldn't have cared less. I was left to my own devices until morning. Twelve hours in a virtually empty international airport is disconcerting. I was hungry, tired, and more than anything, I was mad as hell. Morning arrived, the airport woke up, I grabbed a cup of coffee and the ear of the first customer service rep I clapped eyes on. I told him I didn't care if I had to catch a connecting flight from bloody Finland, he had better find me a route to Belo Horizonte. So he did. Rerouted to Panama City, Panama, where the skies weep warm water near constantly, aaaaannnddd missed my connecting flight to Belo Horizonte due to a delay in taking off from Houston. Something about mechanical difficulties arising from a toilet. This time, the airline put me up in a hotel for the night to catch the next flight out the next day. Nice hotel, good restaurant, nothing much to talk about there. I arrive back at the airport early, check in, go to my gate and wait. And wait. Finally, about 10 minutes before the plane is set to depart, I asked a rep what was going on and he said, oh, that flight was changed to a new terminal, sorry, you better run because it's on the other end of the airport. Run? Well, I didn't run, but I hustled my butt as quick as I could and got there in the nick of time. Nicer plane, more empty seats between passengers, nice passengers -- basically it was a blissful ride except that it was 6 hours long. But I made it, luggage intact.
 |
| Room with a view? |
Comments
Post a Comment