Another tale from Gate 6

This one was originally written on Monday, April 9, 2007. A very typical scenario in my life when I was traveling on a weekly basis...

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Yes, another trip.

But a late flight on a Monday to start on a Tuesday always offers an interesting day.

The challenge becomes, how much work can I pack into the time I have before I have to get to the airport? And ultimately, how close can I cut it getting to my flight?

The answer to those questions today were: 1. Not enough, and 2. Really close. At least, close according to some people.

So I’m driving to the airport for my 6:00PM flight. It is now 5:15PM. I’m pulling into the parking lot, forgetting it’s Easter week and the airport is going to be busy for spring break. The A Lot next to the terminal is closed. Crap. Now I have to drive back through the terminal, get back on the road and go another half-mile down the road to get to the over-flow lot.

I get to the over-flow lot, and it’s 5:21PM. I hop on a shuttle to get to the terminal. Earl is the driver – I know Earl. Earl is a friendly person; an elderly black man who drives the shuttle so he’s not just sitting around enjoying his retirement, as he has said it. I’m sure it also has a little to do with making ends meet since pensions and social security don’t really do it these days, but that’s a political and sociological dissertation for another day.

Earl, seeing I was on my cell phone, as usual, grabs one of my bags from me to help me on the shuttle.

“How are you today?” he asks.

I pause from my conversation for a minute, “Good, Earl. Thanks. And how have you been?”

“Not bad, not bad,” his usual response. “Can’t complain and no one will listen anyway.”

Earl pulls out a pad of blue cards to mark down for me where my truck is parked. As I end my phone conversation I say, “Oh, I won’t need one of those. I’m here enough, I’ll remember where it is.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. I’ll be griping that I have to shuttle over to B when I get in on Friday.”

Earl chuckled. “Well, I just have to wait to see if anyone else comes in the lot….”

I interrupt his thoughts, looking at my phone I see it’s 5:25. “I know you do, but I’m running behind today. Didn’t realize A was closed; think we can get going right now?”

I extend out a ten – money talks.

“Yes sir, I suppose we can.”

On the way we discuss how silly it was to close the A Lot anyway, because flights have been coming in and cars have been going out. It annoyed Earl too because then he has to leave airport property and he doesn’t like driving the shuttle in traffic.

He drops me off at the terminal at 5:30, with a thank you and our normal salutations I step off the shuttle, snap my bags together and walk briskly to the ticketing counter.

It’s 5:32. I know the kiosk won’t let me ticket, so I step up to the gate agents. There are three of them, and only one customer waiting. I have my ID and flying card out – one looks up at me and says “Just a minute.”

So I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

5:35.

And wait.

And wait.

5:38.

So what are all three of them working on? One customer to help, three of them working on it. Apparently they’re trying to perform a transaction on their computer that requires them to hack into NORAD and play a game of Tic-Tac-Toe to get the final solution.

(For those of you born in the ‘70s, that analogy should be insanely humorous.)

Finally two of the agents walk away and one is left to attend to me.

“How can I help you?”

I hand her my documents. “Need to ticket for the Philly flight at six – going through to Raleigh.”

“You’re late.” She curtly replies.

“Not very,” I retort, “besides, I have been standing here.”

“Have any bags?” she is obviously put out, or is at least acting like it.

“Nope. Nothing to check.”

“Good, because you have to be here 35 minutes before if you did.”

“Right, hence I never check anything.”

She scowls. Apparently I’m “that guy” with all the answers in her mind.

“You know, I should just turn you away. We don’t have to let anyone ticket if they’re late.”

I’m thinking to myself, I should own stock in this fucking company. I’m on your planes more than some of your pilots, and you’re going to lecture me? Get bent.

“Yeah, it's been a rough day. I’d appreciate you doing what you can for me.” I more courteously replied. More flies with honey, even if your thoughts are soaked in vinegar.

“Well, you’re going to have to get moving, the plane is boarding.”

“Really?” I asked with surprise. “A flight to Philly, on time? No way.”

She glared at me and handed me a slip of paper. “I can’t ticket you here because you’re late. You’ll have to ticket at the gate. This will get you through security.” I know she was lying – I’ve ticketed at the ticket counter 10 minutes from departure here. It’s usually no big deal, but apparently, today, to her, it was.

I took the slip and thanked her, then made my way through security. It was quick, as usual, so I got to my gate around 5:50… 10 minutes before my plane was supposed to depart and….

…there’s no plane at the gate.

The gate is full of people… I know they’re waiting for the same flight. But…

…there’s no plane at the gate.

THERE’S NO FUCKING PLANE AT THE GATE.

So ticketing wench gave me attitude and a lecture about being on time and LIED saying the plane was boarding and the plane hasn’t even LANDED YET.

I calmly approached the gate counter and asked the agent, “Would you be able to print me a boarding pass for my itinerary, I’m running a little behind and the ticket counter said they couldn’t do it.”

“What time did you get to the ticket counter?” he asked.

“About 5:32.”

“Ah, so you were about 10 minutes late, that’s why.”

“Riiiiggghhhht,” I said, “but the plane is 20 minutes late so I’m 10 minutes early by my watch.”

He abruptly handed me my boarding passes. “The plane will be here shortly, stay in the boarding area.”

“You got it.” I said as I took the passes and wandered back to the windows across the concourse.

Helluva way to start my week. I really wouldn’t have been so porky about it if their customer services haven’t been so terrible lately. This was just more fuel on the fire of disdain I’ve been experiencing lately and honestly, it is wearing my patience thin.

FEH – I fly enough. They should hold the plane for me. 😉

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