So, funny story.
Err, kind of.
I was in Bend (#inbend as they “say” up there) last week for some work stuff, and was scheduled to fly out Friday morning to get back to sunny SoCal just in time to book it down for the Temecula Wine Country Half on Saturday.
Well Mother Nature and the weather-making-ologists had different plans, delivering a surprising and massive winter storm which included dumping a foot of snow on Central Oregon the night before I was scheduled to leave.
the face of someone who packed 200% more running shorts than snow boots
Friday morning I woke up, having dreamt of riding blow up innertubes through an airport with my sister and two best friends from Ohio (I’ve been having super vivid dreams lately that are outrageously bizarre in plot but creepily accurate to my actual life, always featuring people I know really well.) Anyway, I had a text from Delta saying my flight was cancelled, and they’d contact me with my rebook info. I didn’t want to bog down their customer service line if they were already on top of it, so I went about the day like normal, relishing what I thought would be a few extra hours in the winter wonderland that was almost too pretty to be mad at.
I said *almost*…
After two hours and no word from Delta, I gave them a call.
“Oh, Miss Booney, your flight is departing at 12:33 today, going to Salt Lake City”
“UMMMM I THOUGHT IT WAS CANCELLED. YOUR WEBSITE AND THE TEXT I GOT SAY SO.”
“Oh, well hold please. Just one moment please. Ok yes, that flight is cancelled. Are you at the airport now?”
“No, should I be?? Do you have another flight out soon?”
“Oh, well let me see when I can rebook you. Hold please, don’t hang up please.”
(frantic fear of disconnection sets in, why would she feel the need to tell me not to hang up if calls don’t get prematurely truncated routinely?)
“Ok, well, I can put you on the same flight but on the 17th.”
“HAHAHA!!!! WHEN IS THAT, TUESDAY?!!”
They had a flight with two layovers going to LAX late Sunday night, but my car was at Santa Ana and getting in a few extra hours did not seem worth the potential clusterfuck and general blood-boiling that happens every time I enter LA county. So she booked me on Monday and I settled in for three extra nights of slumber partying with Kate and Collier.
It wasn’t the worst – I mean missing the race sucked, but Bend is a seriously amazing place, despite the frigid temperatures I am most definitely not acclimated to. (Ohio thick skin, where’d you go??) But by Sunday night I was definitely ready to trade my double-layered fleece pajama set in and be back home with Brian and the dogs.
also, not running like Bambi
Monday morning, aside from eating the toasted PBJ I packed for lunch a little early and getting hungry on the flight to Salt Lake, everything was merry. Brian, I’ma comin’ home!
I sent the standard “boarded, ETA 6pm, see you soon!!!!!” text, and waited for the instruction to flip to airplane mode for takeoff. I hustled between apps in the usual frantic social media binge before being forced into digital seclusion, when the pilot came on, informing us there was a “minor mechanical glitch.” Great. They were going to reboot the system to try and fix it.
Right, like what you do to the router when the internet isn’t working. Or your phone freezes. Mehhhh, just hold the power button down for 10 seconds and see if it fixes itself! Apparently they use that IT magic trick on airplanes, too.
Except it didn’t work.
No big, we’ll just deplane, they’ve got another bird in the hangar they’ll pull over for us to use! Quick inspection and we’ll be on our way, folks! So we head back into the terminal, I impulse buy a bag of white chocolate peppermint pretzel thins instead of the veggie sandwich I was in search of, and then proceeded to eat all four “suggested” servings before boarding our new plane 20 minutes later.
“All good folks, this new plane is perfect and great! We’ll be taking off in 5!”
We did pull away from the gate 5 minutes later, and even made it out to the runway before what sounded like we hit a major pothole, blew a tire, and our brakes started screaming for Midas.
Apparently that plane was in the hangar for a reason, and someone forgot they were still working on it when we stole it? Something with the steering shaft mechanism or something another – probably kind of essential – whatever it was it meant we couldn’t fly in it.
when brian tried to explain to chico why I still wasn’t home. weepy heart melting.
Back out onto the concourse, more impulse meals while we waited (Wendy’s side salad and baked potato, mostly just to soak up the sloshy sugar belly from the previous delay snack.) I watched three or four perturbed fliers make elaborate rebooking plans on flights into LAX, Long Beach, San Diego – all adding hours of extra travel and hassle onto their already disrupted day.
Just as I started considering it, the herd started shuttling down towards our original gate – they had another plane for us and we were boarding now! Hustle hustle! Sit down shut up let’s go!
And it worked and we flew and California is just as I remember it, the end.
Oh and the dogs were happy to see me. Probably Brian, too, he just doesn’t express it as clearly as the others: