Let me preface with this: I don’t believe in all that Friday the 13th hoopla. That is, until yesterday. The H and I are on vacation. We should be in Brazil, driving to our first destination. In reality I just slept in JFK on a beach towel. No need for SPF just yet.
Yesterday started off well. They started boarding first class passengers. Then the dreaded “Ladies and gentlemen…”
We were delayed 30 minutes…1 hour…2 hours….3 hours….4 hours…4.5…
We were assured we would be fine since no flights were coming in or out of NYC, so our connecting flight would be delayed. Wrongzo.
Finally once we got off the plane, the door was locked connecting the jet bridge to the gate. We were corralled in those horrible temporary hallways that are usually damp and very claustrophobic. There were a bunch of people supposedly there to help us figure out where to find our flight that was supposedly delayed. Here is what actually happened. We were misdirected, laughed at, given more wrong directions…by 6 different people all while
marathon training running through the airport. We were sweaty and about up lose it when we finally got in the right line where we commiserated with fellow passengers from the Chicago flight.
We were simultaneously on the phone with customer service and talking to an agent – both trying to rebook us to get to Recife, Brazil ASAP. Let’s just say it ended with a 48 hour weekend getaway in NYC.
No, not cool when you are going to miss one of the three World Cup games you were going to (and a team USA game at that) and should be lounging with umbrella drink in hand on some of the world’s most beautiful beaches.
We spent the night with probably 50 other stranded fliers who were sleeping in some of the most amazing locations and positions. It really was remarkable. And just so I air this complaint. Do airports really need early 2000s pop music playing at 2 am?
I tried reallllllllllyyyyy hard to be positive last night. We were safe. We still have almost two weeks in Brazil. We could communicate with family. We had snacks. Yet, as much as I know our travel woes are first world problems, it still stinks like (insert good analogy here that I could usually come up with on my own after sleeping in a bed).
After a misty-eyed FaceTime with my sister last night, she tried to stay positive and find us other flights through our airline. She sent us links. She helped us think there could still be a chance even though multiple airline employees had said we were out of luck.
The H called the airline again this morning. We could see available seats on earlier flights, how come we couldn’t book those? We told the woman on the phone exactly what flights we wanted and she worked diligently to secure us flights that would get us there 14 hours earlier. In time for the game. Amen.
Call it cliche or call it ironic, but seeing this is our latermoon and we recently had our first anniversary, the last 24 hours have been the latter of the “for better or worse” part of the vows.
The next 36 hours will still be nuts, we are currently in Queens at a Holiday Inn that my in-laws graciously booked us for tonight. We aren’t sleeping here, but we can sleep today, and maybe more importantly watch soccer? Or shower?