I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

A journey of a thousand miles begins with at least 3 flight cancellations. Are you really taking a trip via plane if you aren’t delayed at least once? I don’t think so. More on that later.

               

                I had my last supper with my mother and sister at Noodles & Company. Elea informed me that as a good sibling, she would be commandeering my room as soon as I left. She’s actually switching our rooms. At least I don’t have to clean anything.  

                I said goodbye to my mother at 10:00 that morning at the Des Moines International Airport. I was wondering what about this airport qualifies it as “International.” No matter.

               

I got this TSA pre-screened line thing, which sounds all fancy, but all it really means is there is no line and you get to keep your shoes on. They searched my carry-on and found my 10.4 oz bottle of sunscreen. I kicked myself for forgetting to check that in my other bag. Went downstairs, called my mom about what to do, threw the sunscreen away, and went back into the line. After I made it through again, I made for the lounge.

                

                A friend’s dad told me once that “It’s either a good experience or a good story.” What fun is life if you don’t rack up a couple of good stories? There were a lot of good ones today. The first one I had was a bit like a dare: how long can my flight be delayed? It was a fun game that the illusive “dispatch” and I played. Chicago had been undergoing a couple of thunderstorms and so all flights had been grounded until 12:30. This meant the earliest I could get was one hour after I was supposed to be taking off for DC. So I got comfortable in this airport lounge and waited for what seemed like forever.

                

                Then, finally, the plane arrived and we were off. 50 minutes later, I find myself in O’Hare. Or rather, I find myself lost in O’Hare.

               

                The staff had everyone’s carry-on checked because of the size of the plane. I, of course, had no idea where to pick this up so I wandered around for 20 minutes. After finding my carry-on, I discovered my flight had been cancelled, so I went to get a new flight. I stood in the customer service line for a half hour and got my new ticket that departed at 7 for DC.  I found out that I now had 5 hours to burn in this airport rather than 45 minutes.

                

                My mother told me that I needed to find the USO, a lounge for military personnel and their dependents. I asked a staff member, who said all I had to do was make it to terminal 2. Since I was at terminal 1, I didn’t think it would be that difficult. Nope. That journey was the most confusing thing I’d encountered all day. I’ve never been so lost. But then this lovely worker walked me through the airport to find the USO, and an hour after I started walking, I found it.

               

I often under appreciate being a military kid. Sometimes it really sucks. Other times I am so incredibly grateful for it. This was one of those times. After frantically running around this massive airport, I was so thankful for an area where they took your carry-on, offered you a variety of free food, free wifi, and let you watch the World Cup in recliners. I was so relieved. Thank God for the military. As my mother always said “Lose your husband before you lose your military ID." 

     

                So I camped out at USO for 2 hours with some Navy recruits on their way to Basic Training and their commanders. While I was there, one man commented to me, "You are too young to be a Lieutenant Commander, and too happy to be a recruit. Who are you?" And I explained how I was lucky enough to hold the prestigious status of "Dependent."

After charging my phone and eating dinner, I headed back into the crazy world of the airport in a once-again desperate attempt to find my new flight that was to begin boarding at 6:25. It went much better this time. I got to the right terminal and everything.

And then it started raining.

Again. I’m sitting in the lounge one hour before my flight is supposed to leave and the lightning starts coming in and I’m wondering if I’m actually ever going to make it to DC.

Then I meet up with Colette, another student on the program who is also trying to get a flight. We put ourselves on the standby list for the last flight out for DC. If we don’t make this flight, we’re going to have to stay in a hotel for the night. We’re sitting in the airport lounge watching our names slowly get pushed down the list as other people pay to get seats. It’s nerve-wracking and one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. It is now 9:30, and this plane that was supposed to start boarding at 8:25 finally opens the doors. Standby seats are slowly given away. Based on the ratio of available seats to people ahead of us on the standby list, we didn't think we were going to get on the plane. I already had called my dad and told him I was probably going to be in a hotel for the night. But then, somehow, Colette got a ticket. And then I, finally, got a ticket.

At last, I get on the plane. I sat next to this guy named Konrad, who was fluent in Polish, a former male gymnast, a somewhat health nut, right out of school chiropractor who offered me his bag of plantains. It was probably the most enjoyable flight I'll ever have. I had actually planned on reading my book or studying, but ended up having a two hour conversation with a guy who was on his way to a chiropractic convention. It made having the middle seat on a 2 hour flight at 10:30 not entirely awful.

So finally, I arrived at DC at 12:30 in the morning, found my luggage, waiting in a very long taxi line, and got the hotel by 1. 

Like I said before, it's either a good experience or a good story. 

And this is just the first day.