Airport (mis)adventure

We spend as long as possible at the house in St. Martin. I take a last dip in the pool and hang my bathing suit up in the bathroom to dry. I traveled lightly and pack quickly. The van arrives to take us to the airport. Reluctantly, I say goodbye to the house and get in.

We arrive at the airport early, and have two piņa coladas each after making it easily through customs. We are flying US Airways and when we get to our gate we find that it’s been changed.

At the new gate is a mob of people in multiple lines. It is total pandemonium with no one in charge. After one line, our passports are rechecked and after another everyone’s bags are hand searched and we are patted down before being allowed on the plane. It takes forever and is very frustrating but I stay calm.

We do not have a direct flight; we’re laid over in Charlotte and supposed to arrive at JFK shortly after midnight. We sit on the runway for 20 minutes before the pilot informs us that we won’t be taking off for another hour because Vice-President Joe Biden was also vacationing in St. Martin and is just boarding Air Force Two.

It becomes clear immediately that there is a good chance we will miss our connecting flight. I am supposed to be at work at 9:00 a.m. the next morning. I breathe deeply and stay calm. It is out of my control.

The US Airways flight attendants are anything but helpful or apologetic, informing the entire plane over the loudspeaker that our connecting flights are the last ones of the evening; the delay is not US Airways’ fault and if we miss our flights we will not be put up in a hotel. Then, they pass out a menu for the snacks that they have for sale. I pay $3 for Ramen noodles.

Upon landing in Charlotte, we are informed that not only is the flight to New York not waiting for us, it has left early. We are shepherded through customs, slowly.

By the time we make it through, the Charlotte airport is shut down. The next US Airways flight doesn’t get into JFK until 11 a.m. I call the producer I’m supposed to meet in the morning and explain the situation.

We briefly consider renting a car and driving before Mel gets US Airways to book us on a Delta flight leaving at 6:00 a.m. It’s after midnight and it hardly seems worth going to a hotel, especially if US Airways refuses to pay for it. So, we set up a camp near a row of benches. There is a Starbucks that’s still open, and we buy stale bagels and smoothies.

We watch a janitor meticulously vacuum the floor, swig duty-free whiskey and wrap ourselves with clothes to stay warm. We curl up together on the floor, our bodies reeling from the cold shock to our systems.

Andrew takes a cab to a waffle house and brings back takeout, which we eat cross-legged on the floor. More whiskey, a few hours in and out of sleep and suddenly the airport has come to life.

Blearily, I stumble to my feet. We make our way to the Delta line, thankful to be done with US Airways, and are told we have seat reservations on the 6:00 a.m. flight but that US Airways hasn’t issued us tickets. Delta won’t let us on the flight until that happens.

Reluctantly, we head back to the US airways desk; there is a long line and no representative.

I am far from calm and as I see the first representative arrive, I hear“Good Morning!” come loudly and sarcastically out of my mouth. Everyone turns to me.

My head spins. I am somewhere between vacation and work, awake and asleep, day and night and can do nothing more than laugh strangely and turn to my friends who shake their heads and chuckle. The problem is sorted out on the phone and thankfully my outburst is the last interaction I have with US Airways.

We make it onto the Delta flight and upon arriving safely in New York, I go straight to work.