Most of the time when you travel it works just like it should.  You get on the plane and you get off it at your destination and much time is saved.  But every so often, you get taken for a day-long hell ride. 

But we made it home so there’s that.

I originally booked travel that had us leaving RDU at 7:30 am and stopping in Washington DC for six hours.  I thought this was a silly arrangement and was on the verge of calling the airline about it but Melissa stopped me by saying that we could take a cab over to one of the Smithsonian museums and spend the time that way.  That seemed to me an excellent idea so I left the itinerary alone.  We dutifully got up at around 5:00am to allow ourselves enough time to pack and get to the airport in time.

As we were driving up to the airport, I got a text message from the airline: “your flight has been cancelled”.  This was followed very quickly by another one saying “you’ve been rebooked – everything’s OK.”  Unfortunately, the new flight was five hours in the future.  Well, Tom and Darla had stuff to do and we didn’t want to just go back to their house so we stayed at the airport.  Mel and I found a quiet corner to sit down in and have a nap and read books.  It wasn’t bad at all.  I read using the Kindle app for my phone and even found a convenient power outlet to top off my battery.

During that time, we noticed some Marines and quickly found out that they were an honor guard who were escorting the casket of one of their fallen comrades.  This was a very sobering experience. They were allowed outside to the aircraft and we watched in silence and respect as they moved the remains from the baggage cart to the aircraft with the precision and salutes that only Marines can accomplish.  Everyone in the departure lounge stood in silence for the entire thing.

We went to our departure gate and began to notice that the departure time was changing and getting further and further into the future.  It changed repeatedly until we barely had time to make it to Washington in order to catch our flight to Chicago and from there to Tulsa.  When it finally arrived, the pilot told us the story:  they had originally loaded too much fuel and were not allowed to take off while that heavy.  There was no truck at that airport that could pump the fuel out so they sat on the tarmac for hours idling the engines until enough was burned.

Imagine the irony when we took off for Chicago only to be put in a holding pattern because of delays in Chicago.  We went in circles so long that we had to divert to Fort Wayne, Indiana in order to refuel.  We were never told except in haste by a gate agent later but apparently there had been some bad weather earlier in the day at Chicago and the airport had been closed for a few hours.  This had also happened a day or so previously so the schedule was in a shambles.  We took off but didn’t land until much later and missed our connecting flight.

We discovered in Chicago that the whole place was crammed with thousands of stranded passengers milling about.  The pilot had told us that we should see the gate agent when we arrived and everything would be taken care of.  NEVER BELIEVE ANYBODY WHO SAYS THIS! There were hundreds of people in the American Eagle noisy, bus-station-like terminal, and only a very few harried agents.  We got the attention of one of them and proceeded to beg for help.  In retrospect the thing to do would have been to get on the cell phone and call the airline for help.  Anyway, he could not offer us any flights to DFW, Tulsa, or Oklahoma City and offered the opinion that all hotels were similarly booked.  I can’t believe that a city the size of Chicago would not have any hotel rooms for rent but I can imagine a long cab ride to some of them.  At any rate, we asked to be sent to Fayetteville, AR and apparently nobody had thought of that before.  Nobody was going there so we chose to go.  Melissa handled this while I got on the phone to call a rental car company.  I was by this time down to a meager few electricity molecules in my battery since the iPhone is legendary for having stupidly short batter life.  I went in search of an outlet. 

Power outlets are in short supply during such times.  The entire airport was crammed with milling people much like a stadium during a major football game or an arena after a concert.  Except these people are all exhausted and pissed and looking for power outlets.  I found one power outlet behind a newsstand kiosk.  I wasn’t supposed to be there and in fact the cashier seemed alarmed by my expedition but I gave her a look that said I meant business about charging my phone and as soon as she realized that I wasn’t going to unplug her cash register she left me alone.  Wedged myself between the wall and the back of the kiosk, rigged my earbuds, and called to rent us a car although I had to call five agencies before I found one that could help me.  Thanks Dollar/Thrifty! I was perhaps a bit too tired to realize that the $89 figure that I was given was not for the entire rental – it was just the one-way drop off fee.  The total came to closer to $200.  Ouch!  But it didn’t matter; I was desperate not to sleep on the airport floors.

I will say that in every crowd of annoyed, surly people there will always be a few who are in a good mood in spite of it all.  While waiting, I stood next to a family from India with two little girls who were having the time of their lives.  The parents looked tired but the kids were in fine form.  It gave me hope.

There was again a long delay but we finally got aboard.  It was 10:00 pm or so and we had been up since around 4:00 (correcting for time zones).  We were not in the best of moods and a lesser couple would have begun to comment upon each other’s parentage but we managed to remain fairly civil.  As soon as we were seated, Mel fell asleep and although I never did, I did get some rest.  We landed in Fayetteville without incident leaving all those thousands of people stretched out on the floor in O’Hare to their fates.

Our luggage was unfortunately left in Chicago.  Too much was going on to bother with two suitcases bound for Tulsa. 

We located our rental car and headed out on our two-hour drive home.  The airport is actually way away from Fayetteville and is on the way to Tulsa so our drive was reduced to about 1.5 hours which was fortunate.  I have been told that it is quite nice but it just looks like an outlet mall to me.  I found nothing special about it but perhaps it was my extreme fatigue that soured my opinion. We made it back to the Tulsa airport at around 2:30 am and it had long been closed.  The only human I could see was a guy waxing the floors by the front doors. I left the keys in the drop box without filling the tank – I just didn’t have it in me to spend any more time traveling.  We found our car and staggered (literally) back into the house at 3:00 am, 23 hours after we had woken up.

It was a poor way to end a vacation since I tend to fixate on these sorts of things but I’m trying to remember what a good time we had all the previous week.  This was just one day.  I suppose the airline could not control the weather in Chicago (although I question the wisdom of putting an airline hub there where the flying weather is so often bad) but I do question the wisdom of overfilling a fuel tank and then not being able to un-fill it.  I also question the reason for our initial cancellation.  I suspect that the flight was not full enough and in the interest of profits, they just cancelled the whole thing and inconvenienced us but I have no evidence of that.  Still, we’re home. 

Our luggage was located during the night and they promised to bring it by the house sometime in the afternoon and so everything is back to the way it was. 

When I returned to work I asked one of our pilots about all this.  He confirmed that there were a series of thunderstorms around Illinois and that had played hell with flight times all over the country.  One of our pilots used to fly for a commuter airline and was very sympathetic.  The fuel thing is interesting:  apparently one is not allowed to pump fuel from a truck and then pump it back out unless you can guarantee that that same fuel will be put back into that same aircraft.  It goes back to traceability of things in the event of an accident. At the larger airports, they can devote fuel storage that way but at a small ‘spoke’ airport they may only have one or two fuel trucks and you can’t risk getting a possible contaminant from one airplane into another.  But I still claim that the cancellation was due to economic reasons.

Anyway.  We’re home and I shall now start work on the photographs.