So Close Yet So Far

On Saturday I was excited to be heading home for the holidays.  This two weeks in the Northwest would be my last big visit home before heading off on deployment to Afghanistan so I wanted to make the most of it. The house in Arlington that I am living in is within walking distance from Reagan/National Airport so the trip to the airport would be easy.  I had a 6:45AM flight so I figured I would head out the door at about 5:00 and I would be there in plenty of time.  Of course, when I hatched this plan I did not plan for the snowfall that the DC area received a couple of days earlier.  Although it didn't make me late it certainly was entertaining for the early morning drivers to see some knucklehead pulling his luggage through the slalom course that the snow and ice had created on the sidewalks.  The wheels on my suitcase were in a bit of shock after that but they held up nicely.  So, after walking along the off ramp from Highway One in Virginia, across the overpass and then on the long winding path to the airport I arrived in plenty of time.  Midori had booked me a flight on Midwest Airlines, so I assumed they would be located in Terminal A.  Terminal A is the original terminal for the airport prior to expansion and these days it tends to house the smaller airlines.  I looked for the signs for Midwest and found.....nothing.  No mention of Midwest anywhere.  No problem, I thought, because the itinerary stated it was run by Republic Airlines.  So, I looked for Republic....nothing. Did Midori mention something about Frontier?  Nah.   Hmmmm.  Perhaps they are in Terminal B or C.  So I started to walk to the other terminals.  Along the way  I passed a list of airlines located in each terminal.  No Midwest, no Republic.  So, just to be safe, I checked the departure board and what to my wondering eyes did appear but...no 6:45 flight to anywhere.  Hmmmm, the flight isn't on the board.  Am I in the right airport?  I know Midori and I had talked about it and I was sure it was Reagan.  But with Baltimore-Washington and Dulles both  close by, is it possible I misread the itinerary?  Was I suppose to be driving to BWI or Dulles?  So, I am sure you are saying, "Alright, knucklehead, what did your itinerary say?"  Great question.  But, since I don't have a printer in the mancave I am staying in (the mancave is the other name for the basement apartment I share), I wrote down the flight info on a piece of paper.  The info I didn't write down was the airport because, why bother, I live within walking distance.  By the time I arrived at Terminals B and C I was starting to get worried that the time was quickly ticking down.  I started calling Midori, Bob and Sean over and over again, hoping someone would pick up the phone.  Yes, I was aware it was 3:00 in the morning on the west coast, but I figured perhaps one of the boys was in front of the TV having an all night Call of Duty session with their friends.  No luck.  Why do my kids have to be so responsible and go to bed at normal times?...especially when I need them to answer the phone in the middle of the night.  I was surprised by the large number of people who were at the airport at 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday.  Who were these people and how come there was no sign of Midwest Airlines?  I stopped at a couple of other airlines and asked if they knew where Midwest was located.  That is, I asked those people who would acknowledge me because there was once or twice when I know the gentleman heard me but chose to walk the other way and ignore my pleas for help.  Finally a caring soul at US Airways went out of her way to locate Midwest.  The good news was, I was at the correct airport.  The  bad news was, I was at the wrong terminal...time to head back to Terminal A (where I had started).  The other bad news was time was winding down...the other good news was the lady at US Airways was so nice.  She didn't have to help me at all but she chose to help a weary traveler who hadn't even started traveling yet...not counting walking through the snow from the mancave.  I hustled back to Terminal A, which means a slow steady jog through the winding corridors that connect the new terminals with the old.  I stopped at the Virgin Airlines desk and asked where the Midwest desk was located.  Oh, "That's Frontier."   I sidled over to the next counter and a very nice young lady named Princy helped me out.  I looked at my watch, 6:40. "Oh yeah you aren't going to make that flight."  She immediately started looking for the next available flight.  While she was looking I was struck by two things.  One was the length of her nails, I mean they were extremely long and curved and painted a light green and one or two nails had very fancy and intricate designs painted on them.  I was amazed at how adept she was at typing because her fingers never came close to touching the keys.  She did it all with her nails.  The other thing that struck me as I was standing there was the stapler that was sitting behind the counter.  The stapler that said Midwest Airlines on the top of it.  That was the only visible sign I saw of Midwest Airlines that entire day.  The best Princy was able to do was get me on standby to Denver and then she booked me from Denver to Seattle.  If I didn't get on  flight to Denver my bag would and I would have to catch up later.  I thanked Princy and made my way to join the long line through security.  Luckily I had a little time since the Denver flight wasn't leaving until 8:30.  A good thing since I ended up behind the cleaning company going through security.  Just as I was about to start putting my belt and shoes and jacket and computer in bins the cleaning crew rolled up with a huge tub on rollers full of all of their cleaning gear and supplies.  Every piece of gear was wrapped up in plastic bags and had to go through the x-ray individually. So they offloaded their tub and I had the joy of watching each piece go through slowly  but surely.  Once I was through security I waited for about an hour until they started boarding the flight.  Then I waited while the guy at the counter counted up all the tickets to verify all the seats were filled....no standby.  Once he had the flight to Denver in the air, he worked with me to see what else was available.  He explained to me that I had two options.  I could go on standby for a flight to Omaha and then he could book me for a flight from Omaha to Denver and Denver to Seattle, or I could wait until the afternoon flight to Denver and book me through to Seattle.  He told me that I would be number two standby on the Omaha flight and it was not overbooked but the Denver flight was oversold by twelve.  "Statiscally speaking, people going to Omaha normally show up for their flight so you may not get on it but the Denver flight is so oversold I would take the chance on the Omaha flight."  I went with the Omaha flight and started a new, two hour wait.  I contemplated walking back to the mancave, since I could practically look out the window of the airport and see it, but the thought of trudging through the snow and going through security again didn't appeal to me so I stayed and waited.  What I found out after my wait is that people from Omaha show up for their flights...except one.  Remember, I was standby number two.  So, another flight left and the lady at the counter helped with with yet another standby.  We were going to shoot for the afternoon flight to Denver. This was probably going to be my last chance of the day as this one was leaving in mid afternoon and anything later would probably strand me in Denver, Kansas City or Omaha.  So, I set my backpack next to me, propped my elbow on my backpack and rested my face in my hand, falling asleep for over an hour while the activity swirled around me in the terminal.  I awoke just as they were announcing my third standby flight.  My hand was completely numb after cradling my head for an extended period and I was pretty sure half my face had a nice red handprint.  As the last of the passengers boarded, I loitered near the counter so the nice young lady could see me.  When all looked lost, the lady turned to me and said "Mr Murdock, you can thank this gentleman right here for getting you a seat."  She pointed to a guy wearing a pilot uniform.  Evidently his shift was over so he and his crew were flying back to their home base of Denver.  Frontier has a policy that a crewmember can give up their seat and sit in the jumpseat in the cockpit so that standby passengers can fly.  This guy made the choice to sit in an uncomfortable seat for close to five hours just so I could get home.  I spoke with him for a minute and thanked him for getting me on the flight.  He asked me my story and when I told him he turned to another pilot and said "See, that's why I do it."  The other guy, looked at me and said "Yeah, you're lucky he's here.  I'm not giving up my seat, no way."  So while the one guy confirmed he was a jerk the other guy is bound for sainthood.  The lady at the counter rushed me on to the plane.  "What about my connection?" I asked her.  "I will  take care of it, just get on the plane so we can go" she replied.  So, finally, after arriving at the airport before the sun came up, I was finally leaving just about an hour before the sun was getting ready to set.  Now, this is not a plug for Frontier, but I have to tell you, the plane had leather seats, a TV at every seat and the best part?  They hand out warm chocolate chip cookies!  Definitely the highlight of my day.  When the lady next to me said no thanks to the cookie I almost said "I'll take hers!"   Once I arrived in Denver, my ticket to Seattle was there as promised and she had even upgraded me to get the free TV (since you normally have to swipe your credit card).  When I arrived in Seattle my bag was there waiting for me, along with my handsome son who was called in to pitch hit for Midori in airport duties.  Alright, so why did I tell this long and boring story?  Because, although it could have been a terrible day, it all worked out and throughout the day I was blessed to come into contact with a myriad of professional, helpful, cheerful people who seemed to genuinely care about their jobs and about taking good care of people.  Even the flight attendant who I saw getting cursed out by an irate passenger handled the situation with class and professionalism.  There are still some good people in the world taking care of knuckleheads like me and making sure we get home for the holidays.