Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I Give Up

I should just never be able to fly to Chicago again. I'm serious. It never works out. NEVER.  The last time I flew to Chicago for a surprise baby shower I was delayed by 10 hours.  As in, the airline was literally telling people the weather was so bad they would just refund the ticket price. But nope, I soldiered on.  My flight home was cancelled.
With that as a baseline, I tempted fate again and flew out to Chicago.  And things start off well - I get to the airport, breeze through security, get to my plane, board in a timely manner.... and then things start to go downhill.  We taxi on back and then stop. And move a little. And then stop.  And then the rain comes.  And by rain, I mean it started with the occasional plip plop, then darkening skies, then some rumbles of thunder, which then progresses to sheeting torrents of water and a black sky. Ohhhhh joy.  Yup, a ground stop for all westward flights until the weather passes.  2 hours later, the pilot comes back on and lets us know the ground stop has lifted and we are #40 in line for take off. FORTY.  At this point, I had abandoned airplane mode and am searching what the time is for triggering the tarmac rule (FYI - 3 hours and then the DOT fines $27,500/passenger).

If you've ever flown with me, you know what it means that I turned my cell service back on.  I am nothing if not an airline rule follower.  I do not unbuckle my seat belt mid flight. I read the safety pamphlet in each plane I get on.  I count the rows of seats between me and the nearest exit.  Clearly I have issues, but regardless, I'm trying to figure out if we'll actually have to wait this long or if by the time we finally make it up there, we'll have to return to the gate to refuel.  It seems the pilots and tower were probs also doing the same calculation and suddenly we jumped to #8 and made it only 2.5 hours late.  Boom.  Also - during that 2 hour wait w/o cell service? I watched Twilight. #yolo

With all that drama on the way there, the way back should be a breeze, right? Wrong. The fates conspired to laugh at my hopeful naïveté.  In fairness, I was kind of expecting this.  When it rains, it pours. HAHAH see what I did there? See? Anyway, Chicago was having extreme heat and storms but they were supposed to be earlier in the afternoon and cleared by the time I had my flight.
Again, I get to the airport early and agin BREEZE through security.  I mean literally ONE PERSON in front of me at pre-check.  AT O'HARE!  I have honestly never seen that happen in my life. Ever. Even at smaller airports. Surely this might be a sign of good things to come? No. Nope. Not even.  The weather comes in, as expected, accompanied with booming thunder and lightening.  Full ground stop. Flights are getting re-routed, diverted, cancelled, etc.  And still, I sit there with a stupid amount of faith in Delta.  And Delta came through. Kind of.  The flight sits at "on time" for a ridiculous amount of time, even past the actual scheduled departure, and then slowly moves back 45 minutes, then an hour, then 1.5 hours, then once the storm passes the other flights are able to come in and we're finally able to board.  And then we taxi. And then we wait for other delayed flights to take off.  And then the captain comes on.  It turns out that while we were waiting another storm has popped up and we have to wait again for the lightening to stop.
Sure, yup, I get it. I most certainly do not want to be flying in lightening.  But for the love - I am tired and at this point am getting home not Sunday night as planned, but into the wee hours of Monday morning and all I want to do is sleep.  And of course, I am sitting next to a screaming baby. Not. Even. Kidding.  (I realize I'm overusing word period word period but it seems more appropriate in this post than ever.) I'm talking this 7 month old baby is screaming inconsolably. And his parents are not trying. And I get it, there is probably nothing they can do at this point since he's so worked up. But at least fake it. I'm serious, at least give the little guy the occasional bounce on the knee, rub/bump/pat on the back, soothing clucking sounds, something, anything to let me know you at least give a single F.  Just one F.  Just a one.  Nope.  I made it home by 2am.

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