Sometimes funny stories come out of difficult situations. My life at the time seemed to be full of such stories, especially in February and March when the shifting weather tended to make travel difficult at best.

This one was from February 7, 2008. The story doesn't begin and end with just flight difficulties though, no sir. Every aspect of a trip such as this becomes a situation where laughing at it is often the only thing you can do...

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It’s 5:17PM.

My flight was supposed to have taken off thirty minutes ago. I’m sitting in the terminal near gate 15 waiting. The plane coming in is coming from Chicago, where it is snowing today.

The snow-fall has all planes grounded. My plane hasn’t even taken off yet.

Chicago can’t handle snow. You would think by now they would be able to. They’ve had airports for a few years now; decades even. They’re no stranger to snow. Why does the snow cause such chaos there?

It’s 5:21PM.

An announcement goes over the public address system in the Buffalo Airport:

“The airport is closing due to the freezing rain creating icy conditions on the runways. No flights will be able to take off and no flights will be allowed to land.”

I just shake my head. It started as one of those days. It’s just going to get worse from here.

I step up to the counter at the gate and ask the agent if the flight has left Midway yet.

“No,” she replies, “Chicago can’t get anything in or out either. We’re seeing what we can do, we have some other planes coming in, but now they’re being diverted because of the ice. The planes can’t brake properly out there, it’s too dangerous. They’ll update us in about an hour as to where it stands.”

I thank her, and walk back to my seat.

I make my phone calls.

Here is where I am. Here is where it stands. Can I make it to San Diego for the 7AM meeting tomorrow? I don’t know yet…

This is just a connection flight – Buffalo to Phoenix. I know if I can at least get off the ground here and get to Phoenix I can make it by tomorrow morning.

It’s 5:45PM.

I’m speaking with an airline attendant that just sat next to me.

“I’m supposed to be flying the Baltimore-Nashville-Vegas route, but my plane just got diverted to Cleveland. But they said it’s supposed to be taking back off to come here shortly…”

Vegas? Hmmm… I can do Vegas.

No, not to drink and gamble, but I know I can get a flight to San Diego from there in the morning. It’s an option.

It’s 6:15PM. No word yet on if they’re opening the airport back up to incoming flights, but some airlines are starting to board their planes to get them ready.

My plane still hasn’t left Chicago. One passenger said he was told it was going to Chicago and got diverted to Indianapolis. It still has to drop passengers off in Chicago.

It’s not looking good.

It’s 6:30PM, the posted delayed time for my flight to be taking off at. They have since removed all expected times. They have cancelled the flight to Midway.

I begin to call and cancel my reservations. I know if I do get out tonight, at this point making my connection would be impossible.

I step back up to the gate desk to ask what their plan is. Before I even get a chance to, a flight from Baltimore comes into the gate. It was a different flight coming in from Midway that was diverted. It was supposed to go back to Midway, but they had already cancelled that flight.

The gate agents scramble. Furiously they make phone calls. They turn this plane into my plane. They announce they will get it off the ground at 7:10.

They start reviewing connections in Phoenix.

“Passengers going to San Diego – they’re going to hold that flight at the gate for you. You WILL make your connection.”

I called bullshit.

No way they can take a two and a half hour delay and make this connection happen. They will be holding that flight for a half hour, assuming no further delays.

What are the odds?

It’s 7:10. We’re still standing in line waiting to board the plane.

It’s 7:30. No one has moved.

The gate agent announces this is an older plane and used only running between Chicago and Buffalo. It doesn’t have the fuel capacity to make it to Phoenix so we will be stopping in Tulsa to refuel.

So there’s another 30 minutes of travel time.

And it’s now 7:45.

We start boarding. I know I’m not going to make my flight to San Diego, but they are still insisting I will.

I call Southwest customer service to get their take on it as we start making our way down the jetway.

No one has been allowed onto the plane yet. They’re making everyone stand on the jetway, waiting, while the pilot stands in front of us on his cell phone. Now what?

They have another plane coming in from Orlando that is bigger and can make the cross country flight. He wants to switch planes. The flight from Orlando will be here in 20 minutes. At this point, that time difference and him holding us up to check… it’s a wash. Stop for fuel dude.

It’s 8:00. I’m still holding for customer service, sitting in my seat on the plane waiting for everyone to load on.

I get an agent on the phone finally and she confirms they are holding the flight to San Diego for connections from my flight. I start calling back on my reservations to un-cancel them.

But now it’s 8:15. We’re still sitting at the gate. They’re getting the last passengers settled. It’s 8:30, the de-icers are still working on the plane.

It’s around 8:45. We’re finally taking off. Two and a half hours to Tulsa, then two and a half hours to Phoenix. I’m still thinking, with confidence, there is no way I’m getting that flight to San Diego….

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The flight is uneventful and we make a successful landing in Tulsa around 10:20PM. Only 25 minutes before the connecting flight to San Diego is scheduled to depart. We’ll be on the ground for at least 20 minutes for fuel…

There was a woman on the flight who apparently got so ill she had to exit in Tulsa. She walked out of the plane on her own, and didn’t look to be in bad shape. I figured if someone was ill enough to want to stay in Tulsa when they had no plans to be there, a gurney would be required.

I call Southwest customer service again to reschedule my flight to the next morning. They confirm that tonight’s flight to San Diego will be released on time, not waiting for any connecting passengers… I contemplate for a moment if they were lying before, are really that bad at math, or just unbelievably overly optimistic.

I call the hotel to re-cancel my room – they were understanding and cooperative. Incredibly so. Such a relief when the night is destined to be so long. I reschedule my rental, make a couple more “this is what is going on” calls, and then it’s time to take off again.

We land in Phoenix shortly after midnight. As I step into the jetway, the night air feels surprisingly cold. Warmer than it was in Buffalo, but it send a chill through me. The kind of chill that just makes your body scream, “Give me a bed and some heavy blankets and let me hibernate until spring.”

Right now, hibernation would be a wonderful thing.

In the terminal, everyone who had exited the plane was swarming the airline agents at the nearest gate podium. I already made my ticket change over the phone, all I need is a boarding pass printed so I don’t have to check-in in the morning. I find a gate agent further away where no one is swarming.

People soon follow my lead.

I explain my situation to the woman at the desk. Another passenger steps near me and a different agent helps him.

The airline is going to reschedule everyone, and give a hotel voucher for the night. Or, what is left of it. I look at my phone, it is now almost 12:30AM. My next flight is at 6:00AM. I consider how long it will take to sort all this, get a hotel shuttle, get to the hotel fighting a crowd of all the other passengers who will no doubt need the same shuttle and check-in at the same hotel…

It became worse than I expected.

The other gate agent processed the other passenger’s ticket change and hotel voucher within minutes. Mine was still looking at her terminal screen with a furrowed brow and clacking at the keyboard while making a lot of “hmmm” sounds.

Apparently, being proactive with Southwest is confusing. The fact that I called in my own ticket change and had it all set to go created an unsolvable puzzle for her.

The other agent processed another passenger.

It’s now 12:40.

The other agent has another passenger almost done, she finally turns to ask what to do. The other agent tells her exactly what keystrokes to make… boarding passes spit out of the printer.

Yes, sometimes it is ok to say, “Wait… I’m not sure what needs to be done. Can you help me?”

I get my hotel voucher and head down through the airport to go find the hotel shuttle.

I’m beat. I didn’t sleep on the flights. I had an aisle seat, and the passenger at the window had to pee no less than six times in the 5 hours of flying. I’m exhausted; ready to sleep right where I am.

I find the courtesy phones to call the hotel shuttle. The hotel says it just left and will be there in 20 minutes. I think, how far away is this hotel?

It’s now 12:55. If I’m not in a bed in 10 minutes I’m going to kill someone.

I step out to the curbside pickup area. There are at least 25 other people waiting for the hotel shuttle.

25 people in one van?

Not likely.

I stand and wait for a bit, and ask some other passengers standing there if they want to split a cab. No takers. So I wander off to the far side of the terminal to go get a cab.

There is an attendant at the taxi station. I step up to him and he mumbles something completely unintelligible at me.

“Excuse me?” I ask, hoping he can repeat it in English.

“(something unintelligible)… a cab?”

“Yes,” I respond, “I need a cab.”

“Where are you going?” was my best interpretation of what he asked next.

“Clarion hotel.” I responded. He nods at me like I just told him I was going to the funky shaped moon of Saturn that looks like the Death Star.

He picks up his two-way radio and calls for a cab.

A cab pulls up on the other side of the stop. The driver calls out, “You need cab?”

I look at the attendant. He is shaking his head at me.

“Is he not a cab?”

He shakes his head. “Not airport cab!”

“But is he a cab?”

“Not airport cab!”

“Will he take me where I want to go?”

“Yes, but not airport cab!”

“What is the difference to me?”

“Him not airport cab!”

So I got in the cab. The driver and the attendant started cursing at each other in some other language. I think I heard a few F-Bombs thrown, but I’m a little rusty on my Urdu.

The cab driver asks me where I’m going.

“Clarion Hotel, please.”

“Clariton?”

“No, Clarion.”

“(something unintelligible) ..Clariton, right?”

“No, CLARE-EE-ON.”

“You spell….”

“C-L-A-R-I-O-N.”

“Oh… where is that?”

“How the hell should I know? I just landed here!”

I open a browser on my cell phone as he dials his to ask his boss where the hotel is. Meanwhile he drives 2 laps around the airport instead of exiting and going… somewhere. Or sitting still so the meter doesn’t rack up as much mileage.

Love my phone. I actually got point-to-point driving directions for him. I don’t think I should have paid a thing for that cab ride – especially since once we arrived at the hotel, a shuttle was unloading passengers that I had been standing with.

*note to the disaffected youth: If you’re really lost on the path of life and think all is meaningless, do me a favor and consider being a cabbie for a career. This country is seriously lacking English speaking cab drivers. You can then write out receipts like “Fair 3350 febury 7 08 ur my fav pasanger lol!!!1!!*

There were about eleven people standing in line at the front desk waiting to check in for a room, and one haggard, sweaty, obese guy trying to check all of them in.

It’s 1:20AM.

It’s finally my turn. I get my room card, set my wakeup call for 4:30AM and wander to my room.

I’m beat.

I settle in briefly. Get my clothes ready for the next day, and take a quick shower.

I look at the clock.

It’s 2:02AM.

I collapse into bed for the most restless two-hours of sleep in my life…