Getting home wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be. Storms were on the horizon and flights were already getting cancelled.
My daughter Sydney’s friend, Deidra, and her family left the airport with no issues and had a routine flight. Her friend, Alayna, and her boyfriend we r e n’ t as lucky. Their first flight out of Kalispell was canceled that evening, so we ended up picking them back up from the airport for another day’s stay. We enjoyed another great evening together and made our way back to the airport the next morning for them to catch a different flight.
About an hour or so later, Alayna called Sydney and told her their flight had been moved back with a layover in Denver. However, once they got to Denver, every plane had been grounded due to the storms and they were stuck at the airport.
Luckily, the airline gave them meal vouchers but they were stuck with paying for their hotel. Thankfully, they were able to fly out the next morning and made it home without any other issues.
The next morning, I flew back to the O’Hare airport in Chicago with my daughter and her family. From there, they were about an hour and a half from home, while I still had to make a connecting flight to somewhere I dreaded: the Denver airport.
The flight to Denver wasn’t too bad but once I got there, there were delays after delays. Within a 5-hour period, my gate got moved four times and my flight was delayed once again. This time it was due to the airplane having a malfunction of some sort, so I was okay with waiting on a better plane.
About 45 minutes later we started boarding and after about 30 minutes or more of sitting in our seats, I was getting restless and so was the rest of the plane.
The stewardess announced that a reading light wouldn’t go off, so maintenance was on their way to fix it before we could take off. By then, everyone’s patience had run out and a camaraderie started with the passengers. One woman asked if she could get off the plane and smoke a cigarette and was told no. Another man asked when we were landing, only to be told that we hadn’t even taken off yet. He was the man I was sitting next to and he was sweating profusely. I think he was close to an anxiety attack and I knew I’d be next if he didn’t stop.
Then things got really interesting when a man sitting across the aisle yelled that he felt like he was being held hostage by the airline. Several others chimed in, agreeing. Another passenger said they couldn’t wait to talk to a relative who worked for the airline to give them a piece of his mind. The man sitting beside me sarcastically told him to “please send them my love.”
The maintenance man who was working on the light finally got it fixed but as he was exiting, the light came back on. He and other workers were trying to determine the cause when a woman sitting two rows in front me yelled that “no one cared” and to” just let us get back to Oklahoma.” I knew I was with my people.
By then, the airline gave in and got us in the air to Tulsa. My flight should have left at 4 p.m. but it was 12:30 a.m. when we took off and about 2:40 a.m. or so when we landed.
It was a week night and I hadn’t had anything to eat and nothing was open but a convenience store. I went inside, picked out two questionable food items off a roller and when I checked out, the cashier told me they were so old that he didn’t even charge me.
I took a bite off each and they ended up in the trash; thank God for coffee.
I pulled into my driveway about 3:50 a.m. unable to go to sleep and let work know they would not see me until Monday. I finally drifted off about 5:30 a.m. still thinking about my adventure. By then, I needed a vacation from my vacation.
