Homeward Bound?

I rose very early this morning, hoping today would be a trouble free flying day, and I would be home by two PM, California time. My brother-in-law took me to the airport at 6:15 AM, and I was on my way. ‘Indiana Jones’ airline delivered me in ‘Bogata’ Miami International Airport without a glitch. Then the fun started. American Airlines loaded us all on the airliner right at scheduled boarding time. I’m feeling confident, California is right around the corner. No such luck. One of the plane crew informs their trapped audience the pilots were inbound, but had not arrived. I thought put a fork in me, I’m done. The pilots never arrived, and American Airlines sent over a replacement crew eventually. We left an hour late, flew into Dallas International an hour late, ten minutes past my connecting flight to Oakland’s departure.

Does American meet us with a team of people to guide their lost sheep through this miserable flying snafu? Hell no. AA ignored the connecting flight mishap. A flight attendant finally helped direct me in the right direction. The happy news started in earnest then. The next flight to Oakland would fly out of Dallas at eight PM, nearly seven and a half hours from when I’m standing there stunned at my good fortune. Adding insult to injury, the guy looking at my fate on his monitor tells me I’ll have to go out of the secured area, get another ticket issued, and then return through their security check point… oh joy.

Did American call forward to their ticket people telling them to set up a line specially to speed the victims of their screw-up forward? Hell no. It did pass some time, since I stood in line with travelers on their way overseas for over an hour. Now I’m not causing any ruckus at all; because it won’t do any good, and it isn’t the ticket people’s fault. The lady who helps me sees my look of glum acceptance as she confirms eight PM will be the soonest I escape wonderful Dallas International. ‘It’s all we can do, Sir’, she states, as if readying herself for battle. I wondered if maybe she wanted me to apologize. I take my ticket, wave and walk away. At the time all I could think of was beating the backed up overseas travelers to the security line. I didn’t. Happy days though, I got wanded by security, where you stand with your feet spread, and hands straight out as if you’re pretending to be an airplane. My older brother Jim told me they wanded him in Atlanta, so it was good to keep up our new family tradition. I again throttled my first impulse to stand there with my arms out saying, ‘on the streets they call me the Jackal’, deciding a nine-thirty PM arrival in Oakland greatly surpassed an over-nighter with Homeland Security.

So, here I sit, in Dallas, writing once again to pass time and smooth over another of life’s rough spots. I will hopefully end this journey tonight. :)