Flight #955: NYC to BA with a layover in NYC

I had a flight to leave JFK for Buenos Aires at 10:10 pm January 15.

I show up at the airport 7:40, and queue up on what might be the longest line I've ever seen in my life. I patiently wait on this line for 2 hours to check in. After all, even though I hate to stand and wait, I knew I'd be sitting and waiting for 10 1/2 hours cramped in coach on a redeye.

At this point, I had already gotten two phone calls from Orbitz saying that my 10:10 flight was postponed to 11:10, then 11:30. I laid down, listened to This American Life, and waited.

It wasn't until about midnight before I boarded and realized that by some miracle of miracles, I was bumped to Business Class.

BUSINESS CLASS!! WOO-HOO! I get into my reclining, wide seat, buckle up. Pump up my lumbar cushion. Cozy up in my QUILTED American Airlines blanket. Put my shoes in the American Airlines shoe bag that was thoughtfully placed on my seat. Lubed myself up with my AA complimentary hand lotion.

"Do you want a drink before take-off? Some champagne?" purrs the flight attendant.

Of course.

I peruse the wine and dinner menu, specially selected for American Airlines flight #955 business class passengers. I decide on the dessert Port to help whisk me off into oblivion. I decide to skip the pepper-crusted beef and potato-leek soup, as delightful as it sounded. All I wanted to do was sleep. Although yes, Ms. Flight Attendant, I would like to be roused from my sleep to have breakfast in the morning.

I figure I got about an hour's nap before the lights turned on, having moved only a couple of feet from the gate, when the pilot says "Prepare for Landing."

This was not a good sign.

We were deplaned at 2:00 a.m., for what we were told were "mechanical difficulties."

I called "same seats."

I lie on the moldy, carpeted floor, bra undone for comfort, contacts out, rendering me near-blind, dopey from having been awake since about 5:30 the previous morning. I wait.

They claim there's another plane, and they're going to try their best to get us on it in about an hour and a half.

4 a.m. Flight canceled.

Not due to weather. It's because since so many flights had been backed up for DAYS since the storm, crews were working overtime as it was, and at some point, it is deemed unsafe for them to fly. I agree, I must say. The crew goes home.

Needless to say, people are angry. There is yelling. Chaos. Crying children. Crying adults. I just stare into space. Speechless. There are 3 people working. There are no flights. They look anyway. They patiently and calmly field all sorts of questions and abuse. They advise us to call AA to try to get a flight, although I had to ask 3 times for the number. I try in vain to get a flight. So do countless others. My phone dies in the process, as one helpful Texan tries her best. I watch people stand at a desk for hours, in hopes of scoring some kind of ticket the hell out of New York.

One woman was missing her own wedding. Her and her whole wedding party.

Another was going to miss connecting with her 6 year old son waiting at the BA airport for her.

Countless families with two, three, four young kids. Some of whom not only can't get to BA, but can't get back to Boston, where they live and where they flew from earlier this morning.

A woman from Moscow, who had better luck calling her travel agent IN MOSCOW, who was on her 2nd of 4th leg of a journey taking her from Moscow, to NY, to BA, and then to ANTARCTICA. She was able to get a flight within the 1/2 hour to BA (through Miami?) but couldn't seem to get her luggage. Can't go to Antarctica without clothes, obviously.

Howard Jones' 80's ballad "No one is to blame" is poignantly playing in the background.

As tired as I was, as disappointed and depressed as I was, and as much as I had just about given up hope of ever leaving NY at this rate, I knew I was not going to compete with the problems most of these people were going to face over the next couple of days. The earliest flight ANYWHERE wasn't going to happen until Monday. At least I had a home to go back to.

Except that I had promised it already to Maria and Mireille, Rik's friends from Amsterdam, who were hopefully going to have less trouble coming to NY than I was having trying to leave.

I give up. I feel as though my soul has left my body. I want to curl up into a ball and sleep for 7 days. See no one. Talk to no one.

Just then, a man in his mid 40's asks me if I got a flight. If I was from Buenos Aires, because he heard me talking in Spanish. Tells me that he's going to Sao Paulo, to BA. He'll get there tomorrow night. He has to give a couple of lectures on Sanskrit.

He asks me to have coffee with him. I tell him that I appreciate the offer, but I am really in no mood to have coffee. I want to go home and go to sleep. It is now 5 in the morning. He keeps pressuring me to have some coffee with him. Asks what I do. Why I wanted to learn Spanish. Why I'm going to Argentina.

I really can't tell you how little I wanted to be hit on at this point and time. I am really surprised I didn't get more aggressive.

I get away from HornySanskritMan and, deflated, trudge downstairs to get my luggage.

Just when you think it can't get any worse. I now see about 200 fellow flight members. They can't find anyone to unload the luggage.

It wasn't until 6:40 in the morning that I was able to get out of there.

***

I get home about an hour later, after a $50 cab ride that AA is damn well going to pay for. I nap for a couple of hours. I decide to call AA again.

My mom always says that no matter what pile of shit I step into, I always land on my feet. Something good always happens.

I calmly convince one of the managers that simply crediting my account for the $1078 ticket was not sufficient after my suffering. She helps me find and reserve a $820 ticket for spring break, and issues me a $250 credit for my troubles as well. I'm sure there will be no Port wine nor pepper-crusted beef this time. I had to go to Columbus Circle (after a big plate of Pad Si Ew to fortify me...) in the freezing cold, on minimal sleep, to get the voucher applied.

So, Buenos Aires, I know you won't wait for me, with your blazing summer sun, open-air milongas, carnival in session. Pero espero que te conocere pronto.