Tag Archives: Delta

A Lesson in Patience

07 Sunday Oct 2012

Posted by in Seatmate Shenanigans, With love from the Tarmac

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-PHX

In case we haven’t already established it, I am short on patience. (And if you’re hoping from the title that I actually learned a lesson in the virtue of patience, you may be disappointed.) My recent flight to Phoenix for a work conference only confirmed that I should probably have my blood pressure checked.

At any rate. The ways my patience was tried–let me count the ways…

  1. No room at the inn. It’s happened to friends of mine, but I’ve never experienced the hell that is driving up to Terminal 1 and finding that all the ramps are full. FULL. Arg. Thank goodness I always go to the airport two hours early so that I had time to drive to Humphrey and then light rail it over.
  2. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” Security is definitely a place where you need to take a deep breath and tune out the idiocy surrounding you. That is, unless you’re in the PreCheck lane. I don’t think it’s inappropriate to expect more from PreCheck compatriots so imagine my annoyance when the woman in front of me clearly did not understand that she was in the fast lane. “Do I have to take my shoes off?” No. “Should I take out my laptop?” No. “Oh [after the metal detector goes off], but I need to take my belt off?” FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. The TSA agent did apologize to me for the delay (of 48 seconds) so that was appreciated anyway.
  3. A man of the book. That was how the guy across the aisle introduced himself when I asked what he did. How do I always attract these people? And why do I insist on talking to them?
  4. The classiest man on earth. My seat mate (with the middle seat) showed up with a sack of Chik-fil-a which gave me instant nausea just thinking about the stale french fry smell that was soon to encompass me. He made snide commentary during the entire safety film and pilot’s announcements. And then he fell asleep. As he was already protruding from his seat onto mine, it was only a matter of time until his arm started drifting over the armrest he had claimed and into my seat. After several attempts to politely jostle him, I finally just shoved his arm back onto him. But we weren’t done yet…as his sleep deepened, he began to snore and then to ever so slightly fall over onto me. Unfortunately for him, when this happened I was totally ensconced in my work and jumped, effectively scaring the crap out of both of us. (Don’t worry, he easily fell back to sleep and we got to repeat the process.)
  5. The Parisians are coming. Boarding seemed to go incredibly smoothly, which should have been my first clue that something was about to go wrong. The reason for the smoothness, it turned out, was that half our plane was coming from a delayed connection from France. Thirty minutes after we should have departed, the French arrived. Because I’m such a Francophile, I’m usually the first to defend them…but not this time. The lot of them seemed to have no idea that they’d been on a late flight and lallygagged their way onto the plane. Finally all aboard (and after telling one woman, in French, that no, she could not just sit in the seat beside me because it was vacant (my classy seat mate was in the restroom)), I was ready to roll…alas, we still had to wait for the French luggage. An hour after we should have departed…we finally did. Patience: officially tried.
Inc. 500 | 5000 Awards Conference

With the editor-in-chief of Inc. Magazine accepting the Inc. 5000 award

Luckily, everything was much better once I made it to Arizona (well, once I located the taxi stand. Not big on any extra signage in the basement of the airport). I spent my days going between the ice-cold conference rooms and the sweltering 100 degree oven that is Phoenix.

Then, E flew down Friday once his conference in L.A. wrapped up to escort me to the award ceremony of the Inc. 500 | 5000 conference (where I picked up my company’s hardware, see right) and we spent the following day exploring Sedona. All in all, a great getaway to the southwest.

I’m sure it’s been unbearable without my frequent updates so get excited–my next trip is Thursday as we are off to Canada for a family wedding. Hopefully my patience will not be further tried.

Sedona, Arizona

Lovely Sedona

You Can’t Go Home Again

28 Tuesday Aug 2012

Posted by in Adventures Abroad, Cancellation Clusters, With love from the Tarmac

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It’s hard to believe I started the blog a year ago today. Not to get all 15 year-old emo on you, but it’s been a really amazing and gratifying experience. I’ve been able to bond with new and old friends over shared flying catastrophes as well as get some serious anxiety off my chest. So thanks, all. Cheapest therapy yet.

In honor of the one-year mark, I am finally going to recount a story I’ve been hinting at for a while now–the trip home from studying abroad in 2004…brace yourself.

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta/KLM

Route: CDG>AMS>JFK>LGA>MSP

Child, child, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour will pass away.

-Thomas Wolfe, You Can’t Go Home Again

On a couple of occasions whilst trapped in some travel nightmare or another, I’ve had the distinct fear that I’m never going to get home again. I know it’s irrational and completely brought on by the current stress, but I can’t help it. There’s this point where you’re sitting on a plane/in an airport/at security and you just feel completely defeated–like all the travel gods are conspiring to keep you from your destination.

Sacre Coeur

Sacre Coeur, Paris

I have never felt this more acutely than on my way home from studying abroad in 2004. It was late June in Paris, hot and sticky, and I hadn’t been home since March. Although my time in France had been nothing short of magical, I was ready to go home.

My father had come to Paris to collect me (my parents joked that if they didn’t physically retrieve me I wouldn’t ever come home) and it had been the perfect close to my travels as I got to spend a week showing off the city I had come to love. But now we were homeward bound.

Things got off to a bad start right at Charles de Gaulle. As mentioned in my post on this airport, it is perpetually under construction and, despite Paris being a huge tourist attraction, nobody really wants to help you. So my dad and I wandered around until we found the temporary relocation of the KLM desk. Although we wouldn’t know until we were stateside that our bags had been mis-routed, the KLM agent was new to the job and not instilling a whole lot of confidence, especially when we knew this was only the first of our three legs. She consistently re-asked us our names and our final destination, even when our passports and boarding passes were in her hands…we should have known she was a harbinger of disaster.

Monet's house at Giverny

Monet’s house at Giverny

Arriving late in Amsterdam (naturally), we had about ten minutes to make our connection. Which meant I had to run the entire length of the airport with my poor dad hauling our carry-ons behind me as I tried to stop the flight from departing without us (more color on this in my last post). Luckily, the door hadn’t yet closed and we made it on the flight. Things seemed to be looking up–everything would be better once we were in the US, right? If only we had known what was ahead…

Cannes, France

Cannes, France

We landed at JFK on time and had a couple of hours before our flight to Minnesota. We were herded to the international luggage carousels to collect our luggage before connecting to our domestic flight. We waited. And waited. And waited. No luggage. Finally realizing our bags were not coming, my dad and I went through Customs and straight to the Delta luggage services office. If you ever think you have a terrible job, you don’t. Livid as I was, I cooled down considerably after watching the poor woman running the office listen to some self-absorbed businessman go on for five minutes straight about how unacceptable it was that his luggage was lost and demanding $2,000 for a replacement suit. Oy. As if she was just going to give him a wad of cash and her sincere apology.

When we got our turn with Deb (I will always remember her name because I took special note to look at it after the jerk left in a huff), I was calmer but still completely riled up. Our two checked bags were missing and they held the wine and precious souvenirs I had collected over my stay. Luckily, Deb assured us that luggage is rarely “lost”, it’s usually just mis-routed. Indeed, our bags had been sent straight through to Minneapolis rather than following us.

Gordes, France

Gordes, France (Provence). No wonder I almost didn’t come home.

With that crisis averted, we were sure it’d be smooth sailing. Oh how wrong we were.

There had been some issue with our tickets so we went up to Delta ticketing at JFK. The extremely unhelpful representative told us that our flight had been canceled due to weather and that he could potentially re-book us on a flight to MN from Laguardia, but we’d have to get over there right away as the flight was in 45 minutes. Then he ripped up our boarding passes. Ripped. Them. Up. Yes, our flight had been canceled, but shouldn’t we have some proof of our previous arrangements? Anxiety reaching Defcon 3.

But what was there to do? We hailed a taxi and got over to Laguardia. After re-checking in, we headed to our gate. By now we knew that there was some serious weather affecting all East Coast airports. In fact, every airport had been completely shut down for a few hours (including JFK, LGA, Newark, Reagan, Dulles and ATL) and flights were getting canceled left and right. Awesome news.

Swiss Alps, Geneva

Swiss Alps, Geneva

Our gate agent assured us our flight was going but we weren’t so confident when the flight next to us (to Detroit) boarded and then un-boarded with the flight ending up canceled. We did board though, and I let out a huge sigh of relief when we actually pushed back. Finally, I was going to get home!

Not so fast. During our boarding and beginning taxi, the airports were shut down again. As our pilot explained, however, if we went back to the terminal, we’d be in for the night so he wanted to wait it out on the Tarmac as that was our only shot of actually getting home. Thank goodness for a MN-based flight crew and some foresight on the part of the pilot to top off the fuel.

Three hours later we were still sitting on the Tarmac with no end in sight. My cell phone was dead as were our laptops and the mini-DVD player my dad had with him. We had pretty much nothing to do except try to remain calm. Not my forte.

FINALLY, after nearly four hours on the Tarmac, we got an update from the pilot. Apparently, airports had reopened and due to his air traffic control connections (is there a pilot frat?), we were going to get out. Better than that, because so many planes had to go back to the terminal after running low on fuel, we were going to be the second plane out of the entire East Coast. I’m pretty sure I cried when we took off. There was a whole lot of clapping.

Although I had convinced myself I was never going to get home, we did finally make it (and for all those shenanigans, we were only about seven hours late). My big bag did not (of course–god forbid something work out), but it was delivered to my parents’ house the next day and all the wine survived. Whew.

And this, my friends, is why I never make a connection. Direct flights only.

Eiffel Tower

La Tour Eiffel, bien sur

P.S. – you will all be delighted to know that after missing both our prior anniversaries due to work travel, I will be firmly planted on the ground here in MN come Thursday’s three-year mark. To the rest of our natural lives (and beyond), Intrepid E!

LaLa Land

16 Monday Jul 2012

Posted by in With love from the Tarmac

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Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-LAX

Have you missed me? I’ve missed you, too. My apologies for the hiatus; after a big job change, there are no more monthly trips to Atlanta. I will miss the blog fodder but not much beyond that.

Griffith Park Observatory

Griffith Park

At any rate, don’t be too worried about the blog! There are a few more trips coming up this year that should provide good stories, starting with this past week’s trip to visit  our dear friends M and E in L.A.

After not traveling since May (I still can’t believe I went the entire month of June without going to the airport), I was nearly giddy to be back at the airport. (I know; I’m seeking therapy.) It didn’t last long.

As expected, the plane for L.A. was huge which meant the perfect storm of half boarding vultures and half people who were in lala land (either because they weren’t native English speakers or because they were en route to an island destination but hadn’t flown in a decade). Seriously, just people wandering aimlessly around the gate, asking each other what zone was being boarded and if this was in fact the plane to L.A.

The Getty, Los Angeles

The view from the Getty

Once aboard, I still retained some of the initial giddiness of the day and excitedly took stock of our compatriots. My analysis started and stopped with the gentleman across the aisle from E who was blowing his shirt in his t-shirt collar. No, not wiping his nose to alleviate an itch, legitimately blowing his nose. Attractive. (He would later play a game on his iPhone for about 40 minutes with the phone on full volume and no headphones in sight.)

Arriving on time, we were excited to get our trip going. Unfortunately, this was thwarted by the inefficiency that is LAX. (I will save the detailed rundown of how much I hate this airport for when I write a future post on airports I’ve known and loathed, but suffice it to say LAX is right up there among the worst.)

We taxied for what seemed like an hour but stopped short of the terminal. Several minutes later, the pilot came on to tell us that our gate wasn’t ready and that we’d have to wait a bit longer. Ten minutes went by and the pilot came back on to tell us that the plane occupying our gate hadn’t pushed off yet but was supposed to do so soon. After another ten minutes, the pilot finally gave us the good news that our gate was open and we’d be pulling up shortly. Excellent. We creeped over to the Delta terminal–we were so close I could see the open gate–but were stopped again by all the ground traffic. The pilot came on to apologize for the congestion and asked us to stay put while we waited for the other taxing planes and various baggage carts to go by. Sigh. Maybe the ground crew was in lala land, too, because it certainly didn’t appear as though anything was happening in a hurry. Luckily, it was only five more minutes until we were finally at the gate and awaiting the jet bridge.

Griffith Park, Los Angeles

Probably professional models.

Inside the airport it was smooth sailing to the sea of chaos that is baggage claim and ground transport and an amazing weekend in LaLa Land commenced.

Also, M and I are apparently LuLuLemon models (see right; photo credit to E).

A Sense of Entitlement

30 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in Boarding Blunders

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Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-MSY

Flying, I’ve found, is nothing but a very complex game. And, as a textbook firstborn, I prefer to play games I can master–and win. Alas, where there is always a ladder to a faster, better way around things, there is also a chute that will slow your progress completely.

Also much like a game, there’s always a way to cheat. Some cheat moves are fairer than others (like cutting the security line with a status card), some are all right when necessary (jostling seats to accommodate a family that has been separated), and some are reprehensible. Like boarding outside your zone.

For those of us that spend a fair amount of time flying, the little perks accumulated that allow for sanctioned cheats start to mean everything. Especially early boarding (which in this super fun metaphor, would be a ladder). So when someone tries to get around this rule, whether by cunning or stupidity, I get stabby.

Jackson Square, New Orleans

Hola, NoLa!

On my way to New Orleans last week (E had a conference and I decided to tag along and get in some shopping and eating in a new city), there was just such an example.

As with most of the flights I’m on, the flight to New Orleans was delayed. I find that this fact seems to up the quotient of people (especially those with status) not only cheating at boarding, but feeling completely justified in doing so. As if their ‘time served’ in the boarding area entitles them to board whenever the F they feel like it. What’s even more annoying than this fact is that they usually get away with it. There’s nothing more a dedicated rule-follower loathes than someone who breaks the rules without consequence. It’s hard being so virtuous.

But I digress. Back to C25. A half hour late, we began boarding. I had been “vulturing”, as E and I have coined it, on the boarding lane since it became clear that Lenny, the gate agent, would be moving us all through as fast as possible. After pre-boarding some delightful old Russian ladies, he called for First Class and all of the vultures took an unconscious step forward.

I had noticed a pair of Diamond fliers off to the right of the boarding lane since I’d started my hover and now I saw that they were inching closer to the scanner, presumably to sneak on with the First Class cabin. As noted, I see this happen all the time. Should I be so worked up about it? Probably not. But it’s the principle of the thing.

Stanley, Jackson Square, New Orleans

Eggs Benedict with fried oysters? Sure, why not?

Luckily, much like Roger from the other week, Lenny was ON. IT. As they shiftily sidled up to the scanner, Lenny asked them if they were First Class. When they admitted they weren’t, he asked them to slide down the chute and wait for the Sky Priority Zone to be called. After they only shuffled a step back, he asked them to remove themselves all the way off the boarding carpet. I chipped in by giving them the Stink Eye to let them know their hijinks hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was awesome.

Although I realize the Lennys of the world are few and far between, it was a nice win for the Rule Followers and the perfect start to a long weekend of shopping, eating, and Jazz Fest-ing.

Comparative Studies in Security Lines

08 Sunday Apr 2012

Posted by in Fun with Security, Holiday Hell

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Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-BDL / BDL-MSP

Holiday weekend travel, nothing better–amirite?! This past weekend, E and I did a quick back and forth from fly-over to Passover and I was unbelievably annoyed from start to finish. Look, I get that I am short on patience. And I get that I fly more than many, especially more than the infrequent flyers that come out of the woodwork around the holidays, but can I get a collective oy? If you don’t travel a lot, please save yourself a dirty look from me and Google “things to know when you fly”, Ok? Ok.

First things first: The Way There

After a 4am wakeup call, we were at the airport at 5:30 for our 7am flight to Connecticut and surprised to find very short security lines. Unfortunately, what was lacking in volume was made up for in annoyingness of fellow travelers.

In the security line, we were behind a family of four who had no idea what was going on. Understanding exactly half the Ziploc directive, they had their liquids packed in appropriately sized baggies…and several of them per person. Sigh. I amusedly watched the mother practically get naked in anticipation of the body scanner–shoes, socks, belt, coat, sweatshirt (I almost intervened to stop her when she decided she was bare enough)–and wedge all these items into one plastic bin (along with her three Ziplocs, purse and the shoulder strap of her duffel bag), as if she thought there was a one-per-person limit.

Breakfast of champions.

I then turned irrationally livid watching the girl behind me get pulled out of line and told that the full-size liquids in her carry-on were not allowed. “What? Really? But it says it’s travel size.” OMFG. E had to pull me away from the security area before my invective became too audible.

To be fair, however, unlike the second story I’m about to weave for you, at least these travelers didn’t delay me. You do not want to delay me at the airport. Ask E what happens if you walk too slowly on the moving sidewalk.

Plus, we were upgraded (see right), which always makes life a little better. There are few things I enjoy as much as free liquor. Sorry, mom.

Second things second: Home again

More fun in the security line on the way home. Although Bradley has become a pretty good looking and well functioning airport, it still surprises me in how it can be slightly behind the times (for example: the full-body scanner needs eight seconds to process. All the big airports’ machines take three seconds. Just saying.).

In the one line that accepted electronic boarding passes (see what I mean?), E and I got split up between a family of three made of a father and his two teenage daughters who, as teenage girls are wont to be, looked completely bored and judgmental. The three of them were flying to California, connecting through somewhere, and the father handed the security agent their cumulative six boarding passes in one pile. The security agent was not pleased as he had to sort the boarding passes to look at the three currently in question. He then asked daughter #1 (the one who had a cold and was incapable of sneezing without commentary about how sick she felt) what her full name was.

“Christine.”

“Your full name.”

“What?”

Please shoot me. After he got her full name out of her, he turned to daughter #2 and asked the same question. You’d think watching her sister go through this unbelievably complicated exercise would have prepared her but you’d be giving her a lot more credit than she deserved. Unreal. Remind me to raise children that are self-aware.

Kosher-ish

Anyway, we finally got through the slow x-ray machine (behind a gentleman who took his belt off…but then tried to carry it through with him…) and on our way to upgrade #2. And yes, I’ve decided wine is kosher for Passover.

Home. Finally.

One last story. Despite all the conspiracy to slow us down, nothing could stop us from an amazing feat of speed upon landing. We went from pulling up at the gate at 12:59 to being in the car and exiting the Gold ramp at 1:11. I kid you not. We were in the first row of first class and pulled in to D1, so we definitely had the fates on our side but we were pretty impressed with ourselves regardless.

Happy spring holidays to you all!

Back of the Bus

09 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by in It's not always so bad

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: ATL-MSP

Do you remember riding the bus to school in grade school where the back of the bus was always the place to be because it was where all the rowdy fun was? This appears to still be the case, even on a flying bus.

Due to a trip reschedule and in an attempt to avoid over $500 in change fees, I was scheduled to fly home on the last flight to MSP for the night at 9:55pm. Aside from the fact that I like to be in bed and asleep by 9:55pm, there’s nothing like knowing it’s your last chance of the night to get home to amp up the anxiety.

Luckily, one of the few perks of flying with status on Delta is a complimentary same-day confirmation onto a different flight. The only catch is that you can’t do it until the three-hour window of your desired flight time. So, since I wanted to get on the 7:40pm flight, I had to wait until 4:40 to call. After dialing in at 4:38 (from the highway in Atlanta traffic no less–do not recommend unless you have your SkyMiles number memorized), I was confirmed on the 7:40 by 4:42. Whee!

The downside to all this, of course, is that you take the seat that’s available. Although the Delta rep was able to get me a window, I was in row 37 of 40 on the narrowest plane in Delta’s fleet.

Once aboard, I realized that although I was in the basement of the airplane, I was in excellent company as it quickly occurred to me that everyone around me was in the same situation as I. There was the pair of already-inebriated women two rows behind me (henceforth known as the Drunken Duo) who had been standing by for the last two MSP-bound flights, the guy next to me who had formerly been scheduled on the 8:30 flight, and the entire row across from us of surly Diamond-level fliers who were just as annoyed as I was that we were in the back (one of whom offered to buy me a drink if I took his middle seat. Fat chance, buck-o).

There’s something strange about flying that builds an instant camaraderie between people (or animosity, depending on the situation) and it wasn’t long before we were all doing that annoying frequent flyer thing (which I’m sure is unbearably annoying to non-frequent flyers) of swapping travel nightmare stories and discussing how to get more miles accrued. By the time the drink cart came through, it was pretty damn jovial in the back of the bus and, after sharing a laugh at the fact that we all had comp drink cards, there was some across-the-aisle cheers-ing.

To boot, we got in early and E and Bells were already waiting for me at baggage.

Sometimes, it really isn’t all that bad after all.

Sunday Fliers

05 Monday Mar 2012

Posted by in Sunday Fliers

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

The expression “Sunday Driver“* kept popping into my head on last night’s flight to Atlanta. Granted, I’m perpetually in a hurry (in life) so any slowness makes me batty but last night was so ridiculous that I was convinced there was some sick twist on a flash mob happening all around me…except it didn’t have music or dance moves…just people moving slowly and stupidly. To summarize:

  1. The guy checking status cards where you jump the line at Checkpoint Two cheerfully asked, “Headed home?” No, thanks for reminding me.
  2. I was behind a woman in line for the full-body scanner who would not get out of the damn thing. TSA agent: “Ok, ma’am, you can step out.” “Are you sure? I don’t think it went.” He finally radioed up for them to scan her again just to get her out of it.
  3. All the remaining southeast-bound flights for the night were in one clump together at the end of the G Concourse. I’m sure this sounds good on paper somewhere, but in practice, I’m giving it an F. If you are not familiar with MSP’s G Concourse, at the end of it are gates 18-22, all on top of each other. And every single one was being used. It was like a refugee zone filled with people going to Florida.
  4. Everyone and her mother wanted to talk to me including in line at Starbuck’s where a 12 year-old struck up conversation by asking me, straight-faced, if I “come here often.”
  5. And then, of course, the inevitable flight delay is announced. It was only for 20 minutes but in a waiting area of Sunday Fliers, havoc broke out immediately with everyone lining up at the counter to demand information and recompense for their mental anguish.
  6. Although I lost the Battle of Elbow (honestly, I forfeited; the poor guy’s knees came right up to the seat in front of him), the flight was pretty uneventful. And then we landed and I counted three–THREE–people (and remember, these are just those I could see) who put their coats on in the aisle. In the freaking aisle. Because there aren’t 50 people behind you waiting to get the frack off this plane. No, no, take your time! I just want YOU to be comfortable on the walk up the jetway which is apparently through Siberia.

Arg. I’d also like to mention that we got in at 10:45pm. I think this explains (and justifies!) most of my irrational anger.

* One last note on Sunday drivers…they too were out in force! I almost got front-ended (can this happen?) at the toll booth on the Georgia 400 where someone realized he didn’t have exact change and had to switch to a lane with a cashier…oy gevalt.

Holding Pattern

22 Sunday Jan 2012

Posted by in Un-fun Up in the Air

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Trip type: Personal/Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

The more I fly, the more I’m subjected to hearing the same annoying phrases over and over again:

  1. Enjoy your flight! (Comment below if you have actually enjoyed a flight in the last year.)
  2. If there’s anything we can do to make your flight more comfortable, please let us know. (Ok, I’d like a wine IV and to not have to sit next to, um, anyone.)
  3. We apologize for the delay and will let you know more information as we receive it. (Sounds nice and reassuring but is sure to cause panic in 10 seconds flat.)
  4. We’ll just be sitting on the Tarmac for a bit until a gate/a de-icing machine/traffic control can accommodate us. (Shoot me now.)

And then there’s the phrase E and I heard this weekend on our flight to Atlanta: We’ve been put in a holding pattern.

Everything started smoothly enough…we had a 9am flight to Atlanta which departed on time and with little difficulty (although I was quickly reminded how slowly weekend flights board compared to my usual 6am Monday flights). We were just about to start descending for Atlanta when the announcement came:

“Ladies and gentlemen, due to bad weather in Atlanta, air traffic control has put us in a holding pattern for the next hour or so. Please remain seated during this time as the weather may cause unexpected turbulence. We’ll let you know if the situation changes.”

Um, ok. The iPad had plenty of battery so I wasn’t overly concerned for the moment. About a half hour later, we got the next update:

“There’s been a slight break in the weather so we’re going to try to land. Air traffic control thinks it can land three or four planes. Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”

Well this looks promising! Then I see three enormous lightning bolts out of my window.

“Well, we clearly haven’t landed and it looks like we won’t soon…we’re headed back into the hold. Please remain seated.”

Sigh. When the updates get terse and to-the-point, you know everyone’s on her last nerve. Luckily, it wasn’t too much later until we got the final update:

“There’s been another break and we’ve been cleared for landing.”

Finally. We landed very fast but without much fanfare, and proceeded to have a great weekend in Atlanta (after years of flying through the Atlanta airport, I finally got to visit the Coca-Cola museum (highly recommended!)).

All of which brings me to my favorite saying; does anyone remember the “We love to fly and it shows” Delta ad campaign from way back? I sure do.

Thankful

23 Wednesday Nov 2011

Posted by in Holiday Hell, It's not always so bad

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In honor of Thanksgiving, from the archives. Thanksgiving 2010.

Trip type: Personal

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-BDL

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a little neurotic sometimes. Especially as it pertains to flying. I carry the exact same liquids (which I pack in the exact same order in their baggie) on every flight. I methodically engineer my suitcase to balance weight and category of each item. I use the same security line at MSP. Everything goes on the conveyer belt in the same order. You catch my drift.

Knowing this, you can probably guess how well I take to any deviation in my carefully devised craziness, especially when set to fly the Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving Day. So when E suggested we bring a pie home with us from Salty Tart to Thanksgiving with his family, well, I was not on board (“It cuts down on a carry-on!”, “It’s supposed to stay refrigerated!”, “What if TSA decides it’s not packaged properly and throws it away?!”). Luckily for him (and [grumble] me), E has learned to take my resistance in stride and move forward with plans he knows are a good idea.

After scouring the Delta website, we ascertained that we could, in fact, bring the pie. Now my primary arguments were down to carry-on quantity and refrigeration. E’s usual mantra in life is that things will just work out and I must say this proves remarkably true for him. Not only did the pie make it through security unmolested, the ladies of the Delta Lounge even let us use their employee refrigerator to keep it cool before we left on our flight.

And it was a huge hit at the Thanksgiving table.

On that note, things related to flying for which I’m thankful:

1. Intrepid E – my favorite flying companion.

2. Great family I’d fly anywhere to be with.

3. The friends I can see without going to the airport and those that require a cross-country flight.

4. A tiny dog that I would never ever try and fly with. Oy gevalt.

5. Delta lounges with Wi-Fi and fully stocked bars.

6. Not having to do it this year. Staying home with E and the fur ball=Bliss.

Wishing you and yours a happy, safe, flight-nightmare-free Thanksgiving!

The Battle of Elbow

14 Monday Nov 2011

Posted by in Monday Madness, Seatmate Shenanigans

≈ 4 Comments

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Trip type: Business

Airline: Delta

Route: MSP-ATL

Much like the Battle of Elba in 1652 (AP European History geek), the Battle of Elbow is one that’s of critical importance whilst flying. Placing one’s elbow early is imperative. Especially as a smaller person, I find that if I don’t already have my elbow space claimed when my neighbor arrives, the chances of me getting it are slim to none.

A tad melodramatic perhaps (especially as I owe the AP the photo credit) but surely my fellow road warriors can commiserate.

I decidedly lost the battle on this week’s journey south. Although I arrived before my armrest sharing seatmate and had plotted my elbow-flag if you will, this was one of those delightful situations where my neighbor was too large for me to do anything but retract my arm altogether for fear of losing more than a place to rest my weary elbow.

For whatever reason, every time I am upgraded, even just to the exit row (as was the case this morning), I will always, always, get a seatmate who needs a little of my seat as well as his own.* Is this evidence that the travel gods are exacting their revenge for me being in an exit row since my feet barely extend under the seat in front of me in a normal row? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

In case you are enjoying some schadenfreude, let me put the icing on your cake with two words about my friend in 11B: Sleep. Apnea.

It was a long flight.

*This post is in no way meant to be disparaging to larger people. I understand that seats are smaller than the average American. Discomfort just makes me grouchy.