9:34pm (still Chicago time): I skid into an empty gate to Grand Rapids, panting from a fevered sprint through a mile of O'Hare underground. Scanning the blue screen of departures and arrivals, I do not see my connection flight. A quick query of a so-called customer service rep reveals that my flight had indeed taken off as I had landed.
9:40-10:15pm: The next half hour or so was spent in a line of 30 or so complainers at the customer service desk, all of whom I assumed had cancelled flights due to bad weather. Fuming yet making friends with fellow disgruntled patrons, I make calls to my husband, my sister, and my big brother (founder of BTSocial). After attempting to negotiate a ride half-way home and failing miserably, I am resigned to book the delayed flight in the morning, and spend the night on my brother's couch exhausted, dejected, and dreaming of home.
6:30am: Bright and early, my brother (did I mention founder of BTSocial, a man of magnificent caliber, forever willing to help a fellow traveler in need?) and I make our way through break of dawn rush hour traffic in the windy city highways. After waving goodbye in an already bustling drop-off lane, I struggle through security, check the boards to make sure my flight actually exists, and flop down on the slick black seating in the gate to Grand Rapids. Hallelujah.
7:20am: I glance up at the misleading flat-screens that display the take off time and am not surprised to read a predicted ten-minute delay. About to board the last leg home, I could only concentrate on the destination, and thought little of the extra 10 minutes that would separate me from my very own bed.
8:20am: Finally, after an actual 30-minute delayed take-off, I board the plane that lulled me into a sleep much too deep for dreams.
10-ish am (Michigan time): After a short 50 minutes, I arrive in Grand Rapids, collect my luggage and my pride, and exit the airport. As I waited for my ride, I could only shake my head and chuckle to myself about all of the attempted scheduling, the security, the planning, and the ceremony of travel. It occurred to me, finally, in that moment, that a seamless trip does not exist. Forever scarred with the bumps and bruises of business travel, I breathed in deep familiar air, and started planning my next trip.
Have business, will travel (part III)
Transportation - November 7, 2011 - 9:30am by lcarlson
9:34pm (still Chicago time): I skid into an empty gate to Grand Rapids, panting from a fevered sprint through a mile of O'Hare underground. Scanning the blue screen of departures and arrivals, I do not see my connection flight. A quick query of a so-called customer service rep reveals that my flight had indeed taken off as I had landed.
9:40-10:15pm: The next half hour or so was spent in a line of 30 or so complainers at the customer service desk, all of whom I assumed had cancelled flights due to bad weather. Fuming yet making friends with fellow disgruntled patrons, I make calls to my husband, my sister, and my big brother (founder of BTSocial). After attempting to negotiate a ride half-way home and failing miserably, I am resigned to book the delayed flight in the morning, and spend the night on my brother's couch exhausted, dejected, and dreaming of home.
6:30am: Bright and early, my brother (did I mention founder of BTSocial, a man of magnificent caliber, forever willing to help a fellow traveler in need?) and I make our way through break of dawn rush hour traffic in the windy city highways. After waving goodbye in an already bustling drop-off lane, I struggle through security, check the boards to make sure my flight actually exists, and flop down on the slick black seating in the gate to Grand Rapids. Hallelujah.
7:20am: I glance up at the misleading flat-screens that display the take off time and am not surprised to read a predicted ten-minute delay. About to board the last leg home, I could only concentrate on the destination, and thought little of the extra 10 minutes that would separate me from my very own bed.
8:20am: Finally, after an actual 30-minute delayed take-off, I board the plane that lulled me into a sleep much too deep for dreams.
10-ish am (Michigan time): After a short 50 minutes, I arrive in Grand Rapids, collect my luggage and my pride, and exit the airport. As I waited for my ride, I could only shake my head and chuckle to myself about all of the attempted scheduling, the security, the planning, and the ceremony of travel. It occurred to me, finally, in that moment, that a seamless trip does not exist. Forever scarred with the bumps and bruises of business travel, I breathed in deep familiar air, and started planning my next trip.