Happy New Year. I'm on a plane on my way back to Utah. I remember now why I always try to deprive myself of sleep before a long flight. I've finished my book candy ("From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler") and am now being serenaded by the loud, brassy tones of the woman in front of us sharing how many cranberries she eats each day to bring up her probiotics, and how to increase prebiotics which are food for probiotics. She's upset her husband won't join the program. Dear man. I don't know where he is but he is probably eating twinkies somewhere with delight.
Now that I've been a snob, let's have a confession paragraph. My flight for christmas break was a red eye from SLC to Charlotte, NC, a two hour layover then a one hour flight to Charlottesville, VA. Fairly ideal. Being the end of the year with its traditional and customary whirlwind of visits and obligations I was exhausted. I slept the entire flight to Charlotte and thought I was feeling rather chipper as I reached my gate. I settled in, read my book and counted down the ten minute blocks. So close to home!
And then I woke up.
"Why are these people different? Why is the gate lady gone? Why is the door closed? WHY?"
It was ten minutes before my flight was set to take off. I stumbled to the neighboring gate and established that I had indeed slept through the entire boarding process. I was keeping it together fairly well until they asked me to confirm once more what flight I was on. I pointed out the window to my plane taunting me with its presence on the tarmac and cried/spoke "It's that plane... right theeeere!" Sitcom level, I tell you. Painful and pure gold.
I got a standby ticket from the customer service desk, then as I walked away felt a prompting to go back, to start the conversation again. I did so (repeating my preface of "I'm emotional and upset but at myself not you. Apologies.") and this time the woman changed my arrival airport and got me there only two hours behind schedule. I could have cried all over her efficient and manicured personage. A very patient mother and Granger picked me up in Roanoke. Mom's back was out so Granger did some super swell stealthy spy moves to find me, then we drove all the way home. Bathroom break, then back in the car to drive the additional hour to Charlottesville to get my luggage.
The whole experience was embarrassing, frustrating, a waste of valuable time, and an opportunity to practice vulnerability, sincerity, and choosing humor. And in my opinion it makes a great story. Lots of people sleep through their flights I suppose. But I don't know how many manage to do so in the airport at their gate. Aren't I impressive?
I love this! You are a wonder. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete