The story you are about to read is true. Only the web counter has been changed to record your presence.
This tale tells of my airline travels on the night of June 27 and the morning of June 28. All in all, it was not exactly a good night for air travel. Beware -- this story will seem laughable, yet it is entirely true!
Our story begins in the Portland International Airport. The ticket indicates the flight will be Northwest Flight 2688 to Seattle. Naturally, I assumed I would be checking in at the Northwest ticket counter. Well, chalk up error number one. Although the ticket indicated Northwest was the carrier, the flight was actually run by Horizon Air, a Northwest affiliate. OK, no big deal, but shouldn't the ticket have indicated the flight was on Horizon? Did Northwest know what was coming, and just didn't want to admit it?
I actually smelled impending doom while waiting for the flight. Was it the 2-day old hot dogs? Or was it the statement on the Horizon Air ticket jacket stating, "You're never late for a Horizon shuttle. Just early for the next." That statement doesn't exactly make one think the airline is particularly concerned with schedules!
The flight left Portland 15 minutes late, arriving at 10:30 P.M. in Seattle, 10 minutes behind schedule. Not time to panic, yet -- there was still 30 minutes before the flight to Detroit. The Horizon Air attendants told me to go to Gate C4, right next door, to wait for the shuttle bus to the South Satellite, where the Northwest flights originated. I reached that gate at 10:32, along with about 10 other people who needed to catch Northwest flights, 6 or 7 of whom were scheduled for the 11:00 flight to Detroit. The attendant at Gate C4 told us to have a seat, stating that the shuttle bus departed every 15 minutes. Odd, but the sign indicated it was supposed to depart every 10 minutes. Oh well, even if it didn't leave until 10:45, that should still give enough time to get to the Northwest gates. I did find it strange that the attendant could not tell me when the last shuttle had departed.
At 10:40, I was a bit concerned that I hadn't seen any sign of the shuttle bus, so I asked the attendant when it would arrive. She told me that it would be there within 15 minutes. Considering I'd already been waiting 10 minutes, I wasn't particularly satisfied with that answer. Next, I asked her if I would make my 11:00 flight to Detroit. She responded, "I hope so." Hmmm, not a very convincing answer. Finally, I asked her if Northwest knew I was in the airport, waiting for the shuttle to my 11:00 flight to Detroit. (I spelled it all out for her -- I didn't want her to get confused!) She indicated that she had phoned Northwest to make them aware of my presence, but that she couldn't guarantee that they would hold the flight.
The shuttle bus finally arrived at 10:54, just 6 minutes before the flight was scheduled to depart. On the bus, 6 or 7 of us indicated we were trying to make the 11:00 Detroit flight. The driver picked up his radio and called to find out about the flight. The person on the other end indicated we missed it, even though it was 6 minutes before the flight was supposed to take off. The driver then proceeded to tell us it wasn't his fault, that he was at the C gate at 10:45. Oddly enough, there was a bus load of people who had been waiting since 10:32, all of whom were very much aware that no busses departed between 10:32 and 10:54. He must have been drinking some potent stuff!
We arrived at the South Satellite at 10:58. I proceeded to run up the stairs to the Northwest podium, banging my leg on the way. Being a rather good runner, I was the first to arrive. The gate attendant told me it was too late. Additionally, he said that, had Horizon or the shuttle bus driver called ahead, they would have held the flight. Hmmm, I guess they must have called the wrong number. Surely, they wouldn't have lied to us! Of course, by this time, the bus driver had already gained a spotless reputation for honesty! Perhaps he shared that rather potent beverage with the Horizon Air gate attendant. The alternative, of course, is sheer incompetence. The alternative may be supported by the fact that my luggage made the flight, even though I didn't.
The Northwest attendants were not much better. My attendant booked me on a 1:00 A.M. flight to Minneapolis, arriving at 6:02 A.M., followed by a flight to Detroit which would arrive at 8:35. Not bad, I thought, but then I wondered how much time I would have in Minneapolis. He told me that the flight to Detroit would depart at 6:00. At this point, I asked him if he saw a problem with catching a 6:00 flight when arriving at 6:02. He then proceeded to book me on a flight leaving at 7:45, arriving in Detroit at 10:05. He left the booking for the 6:00 flight, stating I could catch that one if the flight to Minneapolis arrived early. Of course, I also had to call my father to let him know I'd be a bit later. While he was glad that he wouldn't have to pick me up at 6:05, I'm not too sure he liked hearing that news at 3:30 in the morning! Sorry, dad!
The Minneapolis flight arrived right at 6. I decided to make a mad dash for the 6:00 flight to Detroit just to see if it might have been delayed, thereby letting me get on it. No such luck -- the run only allowed my injured leg to start throbbing. Oh well, I grabbed some hot chocolate, and waited until 7:45.
The 7:45 flight was completely full. In fact, it was 20 minutes late at departing because they had one person roaming around the plane without a seat. No, that person was not me, but I may have been better off missing that flight.
I was in an aisle seat, with two very large individuals sitting next to me. This statement would be the reader's cue to say, "How large were they?" Well, I'm glad you asked. They were so large, they couldn't fit into the seats with the arm rests down. As a result, the one in the center seat spilled over into my seat. Actually, I jokingly call it my seat -- I was stuffed into half a seat for the entire trip. One of the problems with that arrangement was that I couldn't entirely remain within the confines of my seat -- my shoulder extended slightly over the arm rest. This protrusion was the ideal target for the flight attendants, who made a point of hitting me every time they passed. Annoying, but not a major problem.
Then came the beverage carts. As expected, the attendants hit my shoulder with great force both when going forward and backward with the carts. A bruise was showing at the end of the flight. Apparently, they were sight-impaired, otherwise they would clearly have seen that I was stuffed into a very small region of space. What makes it worse? Not once did the attendants apologize or say, "Excuse me." I also find it interesting to note that other passengers were able to pass without even ruffling my shirt sleeve, yet the flight attendants couldn't avoid making firm contact.
Naturally, one of the attendants said, "Have a nice day," or some other such phrase while I was disembarking. I was too tired to say anything, so I just looked at her and gave a little growl -- I think Tim Allen would have been pleased!
Finally, the ordeal was over. I rescued my luggage from the holding area where it had been sitting for four hours, and went home. It may actually be a good thing that my next flight home will be on American Airlines!