Today I get to the airport a little over an hour before my flight leaves. That's usually plenty of time for my dinky little hometown airport to process my luggage and my possible security threat. I was even expecting to have to hang out at the gate for a while. However. I have to check two bags. The Southwest line is at least four times as long as the lines for the rest of the airlines combined. No exaggeration. I'm in line for about 45 minutes when I start asking people if I can go ahead of them because my flight leaves in 20 minutes. They are very nice and let me cut in front of them. Since I am checking my bags late, there is no garauntee they will be on the same flight. Fine, whatever, I'll sleep in my clothes tonight, I just want to catch my plane!
The people in the security line are also very nice and let me cut in front of them, but there is some sort of hold up a few people in front of me, and so security takes forever. Finally, I get through. I put on my shoes and book it for gate B5. I don't even put my belt back on.
I arrive at my gate out of breath and sweating. My backpack is coming open because I did not have time to close it properly. My flight was for 1:50. It is now 1:51, according to my phone. They will not let me on, they say. The door is closed, they say. The plane is still there, I say. It is still attached to the gate, I say. While I am arguing with the lady the plane flies away, and all my hopes and dreams with it.
So I reschedule a flight for tomorrow morning. But what about my luggage, you ask? Did it make the flight? Is it on its way to Phoenix? The answer is... they don't know. I'll have to find out tomorrow.
So, since I missed my flight I also missed the shuttle which was supposed to pick me up from the airport. But at least they were nice when I called them, and they switched me to a shuttle tomorrow, no charge.
This is not a spoiler, but it has contributed a great deal to my mood, and may be TMI for some, especially the menfolk:
The people in the security line are also very nice and let me cut in front of them, but there is some sort of hold up a few people in front of me, and so security takes forever. Finally, I get through. I put on my shoes and book it for gate B5. I don't even put my belt back on.
I arrive at my gate out of breath and sweating. My backpack is coming open because I did not have time to close it properly. My flight was for 1:50. It is now 1:51, according to my phone. They will not let me on, they say. The door is closed, they say. The plane is still there, I say. It is still attached to the gate, I say. While I am arguing with the lady the plane flies away, and all my hopes and dreams with it.
So I reschedule a flight for tomorrow morning. But what about my luggage, you ask? Did it make the flight? Is it on its way to Phoenix? The answer is... they don't know. I'll have to find out tomorrow.
So, since I missed my flight I also missed the shuttle which was supposed to pick me up from the airport. But at least they were nice when I called them, and they switched me to a shuttle tomorrow, no charge.
This is not a spoiler, but it has contributed a great deal to my mood, and may be TMI for some, especially the menfolk:
My period started a few days early last night, which means horrible cramps, horrible nausea, and almost debilitating headaches, which no amount of prescription or OTC drugs do anything at all to alleviate. This is about the most horrible day of the month to travel for me, because I feel almost too sick and headachey to even read. And it's made even worse because I have to wear the same clothes all day today and all day tomorrow.