I generally have great luck flying. I’m one of those annoying people who plans little, shows up late and runs onto moving planes. I honestly, have only missed one flight in my entire life. But today, luck told me to eff off, that it’s my turn to suffer, and suffer I did.
After an easy 3.5 hour bus ride from San Ambrosio to Málaga, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the long sitting stint I would be doing, but was ready for the worst, equipped with my laptop, my Kindle, a book as a backup and every charged form of musical entertainment that I own. I wouldn’t be needing it though, as I went straight to the bar, had two big beers and went against everything I had planned and passed out.
I awoke in plenty of time to catch my flight and in very untypical me fashion, actually arrived and boarded early, in the first group.
This is where shiz got fun. There was fog in Paris. So our plane sat a half hour on the runway. We were assured we would make up time in the air, but only having an hour layover, I was getting a little nervous. Upon landing, I was told to run. My flight was leaving out of a different terminal and it was going to be difficult to make it. The woman I spoke to at an Air France counter said she would call ahead and let them know I was coming. I spotted several other passengers from my first flight running, and I followed. About 10 minutes later (and having literally stripped down to a tank top and leggings) I arrived at the gate as they were shutting the door.
Sorry. You are too late.
In the process, I was required to leave the secured area and go back through security and lost one of my new earrings I had literally bought the day before. I was directed to the Air France desk where I spent the next hour missing each opportunity by just a couple minutes.
“Oh, someone JUST booked the last seat to Houston/Oklahoma City/Tulsa/Dallas…….”
I told the woman I was willing to fly to any city in Texas or Oklahoma, as long as I got there within 20 hours.
It was looking gloomy.
So I pulled out full stops. It didn’t take much as I was genuinely exhausted and my adrenaline was running nuts. But I played my girl card and played it well as I let a couple of tears slip down onto the ticket counter.
“I’m so sorry, I was just so excited to see my mom… I miss her so much.”
Suddenly the two agents on either side of my woman both started working on my case.
I wiped away my feux-tears and gave a little sniffle and a smile. A woman waiting in line next to me offered to buy me a beer when it was all finished and sneak me into the Delta Miles Lounge with her.
And…. cha-ching. The next thing I know, I’m booked on a flight to Atlanta then to Dallas arriving only a couple hours later than my original arrival.
And I’m actually going to spend less time on a plane. Albeit in a middle row between two, decent sized men.
It could be worse tho, I could still be sitting in that smelly French airport.
PS - Oh and Delta did JACK SHIT with this whole situation. I ended up dealing with Air France the entire time and they were great.
PPS – Ok, I’m now 6 hours into my 9 hour flight from Paris to Atlanta. This is the worst flight I think I’ve ever been on. I don’t think it’s been handled terribly by the Delta staff, in fact, I think they’ve done all they can, but it’s been a horrible flight. First, behind me and the gentleman to my right is a family of 4, in two seats. Two children, two laps, two parents. They kick a lot. The parents appear to be oblivious to it all, sleeping while the kids play on the floor, grab my ponytail over the seat and even put icecubes down my neighbors back. They aparently own other seats on the plane as they keep going somewhere else and then coming back, all the while pulling on our seats. No sleep. So what to do on a 9 hour flight when you can’t sleep? How about watch a movie. Well… tough shit. My headset connecter on my seat is broken, and although I have severly wanted to watch ANY of the three movies that have shown, I cannot. We also ran out of snacks, no more pretzels, which was announced aloud by the flight attendents (people were asked to forgoe their snack). The woman in front of me is Egyptian and speaks no English, she is constantly howling at someone to listen to her for some reason or another but none of us can figure out what she is saying. Fortunately, my wings are very nice men, beer is free and the flight attendent I have been complaining the most to keeps slipping me booze to keep me quiet (smart man). But I am NOT. Happy.
PPPS – Feeling more resolved. Neighbor just told me he paid $2100 for his ticket. I paid $995. Feeling like a champion flight finder.
PPPPS - Delta lost my bag. Die.