Crisis Averted

Today started exactly the way it was supposed to; definitely a first for me. I finished packing, made deposits at the bank, had a nice drive down to O’Hare with my Mom, passed check-in and security utilizing both my speed and agility, and was waiting at my gate 2 hours before boarding. And then things started to go awry.

The incoming flight was about 30 minutes late. Not a big deal. We boarded the plane with the usual impatient bumping and elbowing. Then, after everyone was seated and carry-ons were stowed, we waited for another 30 minutes. The captain announced, “This is your captain… sorry for the wait… blah blah… paperwork issue.” This was promptly followed by sighs, moans, and an elderly man walking to the cockpit from the back of the plane. A stewardess follows and they get off. 25 minutes later, “A passenger is being treated for medical issues on the walk-way. Paramedics have been called and are treating him as we speak. However, we are unable to retract the walkway until he has been stabilized. Believe it or not, we want to talk off as badly as you do.” Chuckles. Sneers. It’s 6:50 by the time we take-off. A far cry from the 5:20 that was printed on the ticket.

Now I’m getting nervous. I step into LAX soil at 9:02 pm PST, and I recall than my Air New Zealand connection leaves at 9:15. I have no idea where I am, or where I’m supposed to be. I run down the hall behind an acquaintance that’s trying to catch another international connection to Hong Kong, but lose him and ask for directions to ANZ. “Go out the doors, all the way to the end of the ‘zone’, take the ‘A’ bus to terminal 2.” Got it. I get to ANZ check-in at 9:20 and all the lights are off. Nobody’s home. A TSA agent tells me to use the ANZ phone on the wall. I do and reach an agent after a few minutes. She tells me that I indeed missed the flight, that I have been rescheduled for the same flight 24 hrs later, and need to go back to United since they are responsible and they should put me up for the night. So back to the ‘A’ bus and Terminal 7. The people at United unwillingly admit that it was their mistake and try to pull strings for me and my luggage. Click. Click. Click. “Can I see your passport?” Click. Click. I interrupt to tell them that I don’t care which flight or which carrier. I just want to get there ASAP. He looks at me and says, “C’mon let’s go. They’re not going to like this, but it’s worth a try. We’re going to catch the 10:20 flight to Sydney.” It was 10:01. So in true Home alone style, we run to security and cut to the front of the line. Meanwhile, a woman is calling my name over the PA every 2 minutes for boarding. Once we were clear, I sprinted to the gate where people saw me running and waved me in.

Now I’m on the plane and sweating, hoping that nothing fell out of my pockets. The flight attendant tells me that there is overhead storage near the front. I stow my bags there and take one of the open seats. I didn’t know what the flight number was, when it was supposed to arrive, where my bags were headed, but I was on the plane and I would in Brisbane 24 hours earlier than I was previously anticipating. Crisis averted.