I reaked of lost luggage and tarmac

Since my recent riffing (aka pink slip, lay- off, canned, etc) from my latest teaching position I realized my well-deserved personal and sick days were being disposed of via the large mouth Billy Bass that is our economy, along with my teaching contract for the upcoming school year. I did my math and realized there was no possible way (aside from me simply not showing up each day), that I could use ALL my days by the end of the school year… I’m pretty sure administration did their math as well. Regardless, I decided to, at the very least; use my personal days and attend my cousins wedding. It was only two days, a Thursday and a Friday. I’d be back in time to get ready for the next week, but spend enough time away to visit with family and friends.

My departure time was 4:55 on Wednesday, which meant I would need to leave work by 3:30 at the latest. I should have known better based on my customary schedule of leaving work just before I have to be back the next morning. I was rushing, but optimistic I would make the flight. I continued to stay optimistic as I approached the ticket- counter- lady and reluctantly coughed up my 15 hard-earned dollars for my meager piece of checked luggage. After the ticket-counter-lady stopped chatting with ticket-counter-lady #2 and spent 15 minutes typing presumed nonsense in her computer she told me there was not enough time for my luggage to be checked and loaded on the plane. Seriously, how long does that take? I told her I’d load it myself if needs be. Ticket-counter-lady did not seem amused. She then went back to her keyboard and began typing again. After another 15 minute display of her mind-blowing typing skills ticket-counter-lady informed me of another flight leaving at 8:47pm, arriving in SLC around midnight. Great, where do I sign? She then went on to add that the flight was oversold. I asked her to check for morning flights. There was another 15 minute typing spree, only to inform me the next open flight would cause me to miss the wedding. Awe-some!

This is just how I wanted to spend my “personal days”, with ticket- counter-lady and creepy-over –eager-to- frisk you-security -guy. Again, can you feel the enthusiasm? At least my luggage would enjoy the wedding. It was certain to arrive as planned. Seriously, where is the logic in being able to send luggage sans passenger, but not passenger sans luggage. I strongly believe all airports have a curse placed on them to interrupt and destroy any pleasant experiences you may have incurred on your trip, had you not chosen the path of flight.

In spite of ticket-counter-lady’s incessant typing I was still hopeful that I would meet my luggage on carousel 3 sometime before the wedding. I made my way to the gate and was prepared to sit and wait it out, praying for a pile-up on the 143 and long security lines in hopes that I would make the flight. As dinner time rolled around and not planning on spending my evening with ticket-counter-lady at Sky Harbor I began scouring the terminal for someplace decent to dine. My choices: Starbucks, pizza hut, random shoe-shine kiosk, some steak-sandwich joint and CPK. Hands down- CPK (California Pizza Kitchen)! As I moved toward the counter I caught sight of salads, soft drinks and a spatter of cookies. Not seeing any pizzas my eyes wandered to the menu, and still no pizza! I then surveyed the whole area and along with the lack of pizza I noticed a lack of kitchen. This was no CPK. How can you have CPK and not serve pizza? And where was the kitchen? Seriously airport, what were you trying to pull?

As my hopeful new departure time came around I made my way back to the gate only to see mounds of ticketed-travelers. It did not look good! About an hour prior to boarding they started soliciting anybody willing to give up their seat, because the flight was massively oversold. And oversold and overbook it stayed for the next hour as I stood, and followed the gate attendants around like an irritating gnat at a picnic lunch. My hopes grew dim as I watched my luggage taxi off to the runway.

James graciously came and took my back home. My only consolation was my Oreo shake from Chic-fil-a, and the decent night sleep I was going to get in my own bed, with James! However, I had no toothbrush, no face wash, no lotion, etc. It was safe and sound at carousel 3. I think I missed my Sonicare toothbrush the very most. Once you go Sonicare, you never go back!

The next morning I was back at the airport 2 hours prior to my alleged departure time. This time, the flight was only oversold by a few, and I was able to bypass ticket-counter-lady. Once at the gate, it was time to wait…again. It was akin to a reunion, seeing many of the same faces from the previous night that were also vying for a coveted seat on the plane. I let the gate attendant know I was present, and kept my eyes fixed on her every move. After yet another bout of frantic typing she told me she would call me if there was room on the flight. A few minutes later, she announced there was a broken seat amid the aircraft and was again pleading for ticketed passengers to surrender their ticket in exchange for some future flight deals. Again, amazing news for me.

As all the haughty passengers with their pompous boarding passes boarded the little puddle jumper I counted. The plane normally holds 50, minus one for the broken seat, which left 49 fortunate people who could potentially make it to the ceremony. I just hoped I was part of the 49. After counting the ticketed people I counted the stand-by people. There were approximately 10. I then began sizing them up. Where did I fall on the priority list as compared to each one of them? At the very last minute a family of four boarded, and I resolved to miss the ceremony, and at least make the reception on the next flight. At the very last moment, the gate attendant called my name. I leapt up from my seat, tossed the boarding pass at the podium and left the gate attendant mid-type on her precious key board. I was not about to wait for her 15 minute typing session only to find out there was a error. I raced down the stairs and onto the tarmac where I anxiously boarded the plane.

After a brief hour and half flight I had made it to Salt Lake with a few minutes to spare to locate my luggage. However, when I asked for my luggage, luggage-counter-guy tried to make small talk while trying to locate my luggage via the key board. While he was typing he told me I looked tired, and asked if I had to spend the night in the airport. Seriously, is insolence and boorishness requisite for these counter positions? Luckily it had arrived, and was awaiting my arrival at the luggage counter. I incautiously threw my luggage in the back of the car, changed at the local gas station bathroom, ran a comb through my incredibly static-ridden and ungroomed coif and managed to take a sigh of relief and enjoy the ceremony! Note to self, never take a personal day again, it’s way too much work!