Air travel is a test of human character. It is just simply out of hand. And sometimes it feels like a crime against human nature.
I flew in and out to New York on Wednesday for a 1 1/2 hour meeting, and the entire process took me 15 hours. Long day, but sometimes it is best to meet face-to-face.
But, let's face it. The whole shebang is just plain exhausting. While waiting for our flight, hoping for standby on an earlier one, sitting in Laguardia's measly little United gate area, I told my colleagues the story of my worst flight experience ever.
And, now I feel that to complete the cathartic circle of this story, I must share it with you. I'm warning you—it dredges up some pretty unpleasant memories, but it is worth it. You're worth it.
The year was 2006. The employer was different, and we had a client in Billings, Montana. I know you haven't heard of it—it isn't the picturesque destination in the great state of Montana that you're hoping to visit. There are no mountains, no ski slopes, no beautiful nature trails, no hot springs, no spa resorts, nothing. Billings is what Montanans often refer to (Ok, so one did) as "the armpit of Montana."
The beginning.That may be a little harsh, but there it is. Billings is only reached via other places. You have to go to Salt Lake City or Denver to get there from here. And, the getting home from there is the problem.
I was traveling to Billings for the account at least once a month, often for 3-, 4- or 5-day trips. It was not a highlight of my business traveling career, but the work we were doing, and the people we were working with, made it worth it.
The flights to Denver on United were pleasant. Often we got upgraded to Business Class on the huge planes, and the hot nuts and warm towel and bottomless red wine made it seem just right. Fun, even.
Upon arrival in Denver, however, the earth grounded to a shattering and noisy halt. That airport is crazy, and this is coming from someone who has logged many an hour in O'Hare. It is loud, long and always active. And, since I was constantly flying in and out of two snow-filled cities, there were always delays due to weather.
This one time was no exception. We had just finished a 4-day meeting in Billings, and were boarding the tiny 50-seater Cessna operated by SkyWest to head to Denver. The weather in Billings was fine, and we weren't sure of what else the country's forecast had to offer.
My travel companions were Liz, on her first business trip ever, and my boss, who never handled travel with that much ease or comfort. So, I hoped and prayed for the best. We were all exhausted and just ready to be home in Chicago.
Not so fast, my friend.
We get close to Denver, and the pilot informs us that thunderstorms had wreaked havoc on the city, shutting down Denver's airport. Okaaay....so we were diverted to Colorado Springs which is only about 30 minutes by plane away.
Fine. Whatever. Just get us there safely and in time for us to make our connection in Denver.
And, we land in Colorado Springs and find out there is not ONE open gate. The entire airport had planes just sitting, on hold, waiting at the gates, so they couldn't get us into one. We were parked out on the tarmac. Waiting.
Which was fine for a while. Then it started to get warm and sticky on the plane, because they'd shut off the AC. Then the bathroom started to smell, which is just highly unpleasant on a 50-seater plane.
And, we wait. An hour passes. Two hours pass. People are begging for beverage service, but water is all she has that is cold. No food, nothing. Three hours pass. The natives are growing restless, and the bathrooms stink even worse. Four hours pass. Now it is just ridiculous. By this point, it was about 10:30 pm, and we've long since missed our connection in Denver to Chicago. We'd been sitting there since 6 pm or so.
Liz, while leaning over into my seat to watch the DVD on my laptop (which soon became entertainment for about 4 aisles worth of people), looked over at me and said, with sad eyes, "is business travel always like this?" and I assured her that this was just bad. A four and a half hour interruption in our life. I was just sure that we'd be moving soon.
Boy was I wrong.
At this point, the pilot comes on and offers for anyone that has available transportation in the Colorado Springs area (i.e., someone to pick them up) that wants to de-board, can. Since there was not ONE rental car to be had at the Colorado Springs airport, that left anyone else (like those with connections) no choices.
The 10 or so anxious people raced to the front, climbed down the stairs and boarded a van that would drive them to the airport where they could be picked up (and saved from the rest of the mess).
We were so jealous.
The 40 people left just waited.
Another hour passed. The sixth hour came and went. By now it was after midnight, and there was absolutely no hope of getting to Denver, and out to Chicago, that night. We resigned to that fact.
But, we were still on the stinking tarmac in Colorado Springs!
Finally, they re-opened the Denver airport and we made our way there, arriving at approximately 1:00 in the morning. Per our instructions, we approached the re-book gate and stood for 45 minutes to talk to someone. They re-booked us (at 1:45 am) onto the next flight out in the morning, at 8:30 am.
The crime scene.Fine. But, I should remind you that we've not eaten anything, and we're all still in suits from that morning's last meetings. Luckily, Liz and I had our bags with us and were able to change into jeans and comfy shoes. Our boss, however, was none to happy to be stuck in his suit and tie.
We take the hotel voucher and begin to call the 800# for a hotel that night. It was 2 am at this point, and the lady said everything was booked. That the entire city of Denver was booked because of some conventions, and the weather.
Grrreeeat.
So, my boss, refusing to take "no" for an answer, insists that we get into a cab, and take the 40-minute ride into Denver, where he would "find a hotel, because I have so many connections." Uhhhh, yeah. No rooms at the inn, buddy.
We stopped by, and were turned away from, no less than 5 hotels (with the cab running in the drive) before finally admitting defeat. Told you so.
The cab driver turns around, and takes us all the way back to the Denver Airport. With the meter running. It was about $120 by the time we were through with him. I'm sure we made his night.
Dejectedly, we re-enter the airport and realize that now it was 3:00 am and we had still not eaten, and yet, we're outside of the security lines in the main atrium. Where nothing was open.
Finally, we see a mad rush to a deli where they had wisely decided to send some Joe Schmoe over there to sell us some sandwiches. Everyone happily stood in line. Okay, so happily wasn't true, but we were deliriously hungry. And tired.
This part burns me up—we waited AN HOUR for a sandwich. A pre-wrapped, pre-made sandwich. With the choices all lined up on the menu board above us. Easy, right? Not even close. Some people, at 3:30 in the morning—nearing 4 am, had the AUDACITY to ask for custom-made sandwiches. I'm pretty sure this Schmoe normally empties trash cans—he had no idea what he was doing, and thus the line just snaked further and further around the lobby.
It was horrendous. We finally get our food, and eat, with our eyes burning, our hair greasy, our minds numb.
But we still can't go through security. Not until 5:30 am.
So, Liz and I assess the situation, and determine that the carpeted area in front of the Budget Rental Car desk was the softest landing. We use our sweatshirts as pillows, and stupidly lay down. We were just simply stupid by this point. Our boss chose a seated position.
And, just when the tiredness reached its peak, and we almost slipped into a deep, coma-like sleep, the noise started.
HUMMMM. HUMMMMM. HUMMMMM.
What the?
Oh, as I look over my shoulder, past the sleeping families and drowsy crowds, I see that guy. The one. Who has been assigned to wax the atrium floors. During the night shift.
The offender.Did he not realize that there were hundreds, no, thousands of people sleeping in the airport RIGHT where he was waxing? I'm pretty sure common sense should have kicked in and guided him to his manager where he could do some QUIETER job that night.
Nope. Between the HUMMMM of his waxing machine, and the constant, ever-present, super-annoying voice of the female PA announcing safety updates and the like (the pre-recorded ones), we didn't get much "sleep."
Finally, at 5:30 in the morning, about an hour after laying down by the Budget desk, it was time to go through security. We did, with no issue.
Our 8:30 flight to Chicago never looked so good. We didn't get upgraded, and we didn't care.
I've never slept so well on a plane. The guy next to me was lucky he didn't have drool stains. And, the cab driver here in Chicago had to wake me again when we arrived at my house that next afternoon, at about 2:00 pm.
Needless to say, I "worked from home" that day.
Billings, Montana—you can't be blamed.
Denver International Airport—I hate you.
*Side note: this is not the only time I have been stranded in Denver and had to sleep at the airport. Does my anger make more sense now?*
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