I'm taking life in baby steps right now. Blogging comes after I retrain myself to answer the cell phone when it rings. I apologize openly for being a random reader and writer these days. I am happy to report that I *did* just answer my cell phone on the 3rd ring! That's a HUGE accomplishment for this current communication phobia from which I'm suffering.
As I wrote last time, I went to Boston. Via LAX. So...that's right...it means TSA adventures!
On the way to Boston, I was highly disappointed by the TSA. I wore clothes ripe for a stripsearch - TSA did not blink. I forgot to pack some of my liquids in a bag - TSA handed me a new, improved LARGER bag for my packing convenience. I wore my pearl ring - TSA passed me through the detector. It was dull, even disappointing! This is me - the girl who never makes it past TSA without some major SNAFU. I was grateful to be at the gate, but really - was it a sign that TSA no longer cared?
Just like a girl, I suppose, to overthink the distraction of a lover as plans unwind for a great surprise.
Boston was, in two words told in agrammatical order, FANTABULASTICALLY SUPERIOR! Loved it - I would post pictures but I'd forgotten my camera, so I'm waiting for a coworker to send them to me. After a fantastic trip, we foolishly sighed that we wished we could stay longer.
Ah ha! thought the TSA. "This would be the perfect time for my bestest ever love bite for Glo!"
So, as I walked into Boston Logan airport, TSA laid out the red carpet in the form of bright red Cancelled markings on all its monitors. See, a computer had gone out in Atlanta at around the same time a radar tower in LaGuardia toppled and a storm rolled into Philadelphia. The eastern seaboard ground to an aeronautical halt.
Given my resourceful nature, I would have happily stayed another night, but my coworker had to return for her husband's birthday. Silly reason, but alas, she insisted. So, we joined the hoarde of service desk hoverers as we waited for news. Finally, something fixed itself (my money is on the storm) and we were told we would depart at 9:45 pm - a mere 4 hours after our originally scheduled flight.
We boarded at 9:45 pm. But, oops - TSA was not done with me yet - the storm in Philadelphia had moved to New York and the radar tower was still down AND the backup computer/communication system in Salt Lake City had never been tested under these circumstances and subsequently failed. In effect, this left the entire eastern seaboard completely blind to its skies. Big oops. Uhm....we'll have to avoid that black spot on the screen.
So, we sat in the plane while the pilot reconfigured our flight path. Eureka! He found the perfect one - he would fly us out to Kentucky, back over Indiana, then down to Atlanta, across to Dallas and finallly skirt the Rio Grande on our way to Phoenix. In Phoenix, we could check clearance and continue to LAX if able.
Sounds great! we intoned, eager to be underway.
Except...the pilot forgot one small detail. The normally 4-hour flight to Phoenix would now take 7 1/2 hours!! And we only had one movie to watch. A kinda lame one with Ryan Phillippe about this guy who sold secrets to Russia and for some reason made porno of his wife - although neither of them were the kind I would want to watch having sex, but I guess that's just another part of the tragedy - the poor Russians forced to watch this guy have sex just to obtain state secrets. Poor, poor Russians.
Yet I digress from my in-flight story. We started out on our epic flight across country. About 3 hours into the flight, the lights pop on, "Uhm...folks...apologies from the flight deck, but is there a doctor on board?"
Twitter, twitter - many hands go up. There's some laughter - the plane is FULL of doctors since we are all on our way back from an FDA research meeting. One of the doctors goes to the front of the plane where a woman was found retching and short of breath. We all settle back into our boredom and lack of rest (Note: USAir may have the world's least comfortable seats. I've been on more cozy wooden benches.)
Another 3 hours later, as we squirmed in chairs, ran out of battery on the iPod and wished we were asleep, the pilot crackles back into our ears. "Uhm...folks....I really hate to say this...but the doctor informs me we may have to land for a medical emergency. We're going to give him a few more minutes to stabilize the patient. I'll get back to you."
Even with the engines droning underneath, the silence loomed amongst the passengers. Finally, someone giggled. It became a guffaw. When the giggler was identified as the sick woman, the whole plane started to laugh. "Of course, we have to make an emergency landing," one brave person said loudly.
Well, we didn't have to land. Maybe the laughter woke up the woman's lungs. Or maybe it juggled loose some restricted piece of the spinal cord. One way or the other, she made it to Phoenix where she boarded an ambulance - still pink and feeling much better. The rest of us waved her off and eagerly awaited the last hour of our flight and the promise of bed.
We arrived at LAX at 3:30 in the morning - 6:30 am Boston time. We'd been in the air for almost 9 hours and awake for 24. I'm still not fully recovered.
6 comments:
I don't know if TSA can really do all of that; they're not that all-powerful. Still, you have aerospace adventures like John Glenn: of historic (or histrionic?) proportion.
I'm relieved that everyone had a good laugh - because I was feeling a bit guilty about my own laughter at the unfortunate series of events. Although I was worried to hear that the pilot was calling for a doctor; there were much worse scenarios going through my head.
I hope you got an extra day off.
If only you had detoured through Denver! Then "Please Come To Boston" would've been a perfect fit.
But no.
Thanks, USAir. Thanks a lot.
Logan airport? Ahh, so close and yet, so far away.
I love airport stories. Mostly because I wasn't a character in this one.
Seven and a half hours? You might as well have been flying transcontinental! Argh! We should have a contest to see if anyone has ever had a normal flight experience. I certainly haven't.
I guess that makes up for never having gone on a Mexican train trip.
Maybe it will make up for the fact that I type with dyslexia, too.
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