August 27, Groundhog Day

August 27, Groundhog Day
Written By:  Kerry

After staying the weekend with Bryan & Crystal at their home and making final preparations to travel, we headed to the airport at 3:30 in the morning, one day just recently this week, though exactly which is now lost in a fog of airport florescent lights and momentary timezone presences.  But so what if it was early?  We we going to have an adventure--and an adventure was exactly what we got, though perhaps on a different end of the trip than we expected.

Now, some of you may have traveled before with Amy or me.  You will already be familiar with our...distinct...travel styles and preferences.  For those who haven't had the pleasure, Amy likes to arrive exactly 2 hours before takeoff, proceed directly through booking and security to lay eyes on the gate and touch the chairs with her own hands, confirming that all is as it should be within the thin veneer of orderliness that masks the underlying anarchy inherent to all airport experiences.  No coffee, bagels, bookstores, or other form of loitering may intervene or commence until hands have been laid upon chairs at the correct gate.  Have your shoes off, belt unbuckled, wristwatch loosened, and laptop out before requested by security.  Do not linger at security to put back on your shoes, simply proceed in your socks directly to your assigned gate.  After depositing carry-on baggage in said gate chair, travelers within the group may take turns visiting points of interest within the airport whilst a guard is posted over the belongings, artfully arranged over twice as many chairs as necessary so as to ensure adequate seating upon return.

This works exceptionally well if your main goal is to ensure that you arrive on time for your plane and minimize the possibility of unexpected disruption to your travel plans.  I'm sure she finds it all comforting, although in reality, these steps merely represent a willingness to nod and smile at the airport's pretense that things will occur at their intended time and place.  I, on the other hand, prefer to arrive with a minimum of luggage and a maximum of available currency (I'd rather discover I need it and buy it "there" than drag whatever-it-is along with me on the off chance it may come in handy).  I use the automated check in, review the flight display boards--taking a moment to consider the many fine destinations to which I may someday travel--proceed through security and locate the nearest beer-providing establishment in which it appears I can be left alone to read until something important begins to occur: boarding, for example.  At which time, I will finish my consumables, pick up my backpack, and point myself in the general direction indicated by letters and numbers which may indicate my actual departure gate, with last minute corrections in direction or velocity as seem justified.

Thus it was at 3:30 AM--with four of us traveling together--that you may recognize the potential for conflict inherent in our day's planned order of events.  However, after two decades rehearsing the "my way, your way" game, Amy and I have generally made mutually acceptable concessions to the other's preferred approach.  We arrive early, carrying the maximum amount of luggage, proceed directly to the gate, post a seat- and baggage-guard, then commence shopping.  If that sounds suspiciously like Amy's travel style, rest assured that her concession to me is that I get to push the buttons on the automated check in machine.  I do love pushing buttons!

However, we were soon to learn that the seeming orderliness of airport ritual--remember the thin veneer?--was not to be observed today.  That the automated check in machines were inoperable was but an omen of how the rest of the morning would unfold.  After about 30 minutes waiting in line to check in, we were dismayed to learn that all United flights transiting Chicago had been cancelled.  Due to severe weather last night, the flight crews required for our journey were unavailable.  Dear United, thanks once again for sending the text message advising us of the cancellation an hour after I heard it in person at the gate.  This is how we found ourselves among those unfortunate souls no longer destined to make their connecting flights in Chicago, all of us herded together into a new line for alternate "processing".

Being the clever, 21st century sort of techno-phile I am, however, I got United on the phone while standing in their line and promptly arranged a flight on American, which would enable to us to make the originally scheduled Aer Lingus connection.  Upon confirmation of our changed itinerary, we stepped to the American line with superior, pitying glances upon the less savvy no-longer-Chicago-bound.

How quickly the proud are made humble.  30 minutes later, at the front of the American line, we were informed that although we had seats reserved for us on the new flight, United hadn't transferred "control" of the tickets to American, so we would be unable to obtain boarding passes in the interim.  With 45 minutes until the new flight's departure, we moved back to the United line, in order to expedite the transfer of "control."  (I use quotation marks to emphasize the ironic use of this word, control, of which it appears United has in fact very little).  Having already waited in the United line once, and then the American line, and with so little time left in which to clear security, I decided I would use United's first class line and avail myself of the next available agent.

Yet despite much hand-waving and explanation about our predicament, we were ignored for another 20 minutes.  During that time, the American agent was kind enough to walk--people still do that?--yes, walk to the United counter and explain what they'd done wrong in the computer system.  Finally, after much hand-wringing and many phone calls to Aer Lingus's booking center, United managed to free the lock they'd left on our reservation while they were busy failing to transfer it to American.  It was at this time we watched our shiny American flight take off without us.

Undaunted (well, slightly daunted), we explored other connection options with United: New York, Boston, Toronto...  You guessed it, however.  American now had "control" of our itinerary and United would need to wait for it to return before further changes could be made to our tickets.  So it came to pass that every single airplane departed Portland, many with empty seats, while we were relegated to accepting hotel vouchers to stay in our own home town.  Between the early hour, the head-spinning airline incompetence, and the sudden realization that we were temporarily homeless, we were forced to acknowledge that the day would be slightly surreal.  About the only bright spot was when the United agent--in yet another display of remarkable personal competence--printed twice as many meal vouchers as were required and decided it would involve too much paperwork to dispose of them properly.  How best, then, to bring our building sense of surrealism to full fruition?  Pancakes.  Which is how we found ourselves eating--nay, devouring--a breakfast of creme brulee brioche French toast, bacon, whipped butter and warm syrup on United's dime.  Can I order lunch and get a doggy bag, too, please?

After arranging a shuttle to the hotel, a nap and a swim, we located dinner and went to bed early, knowing that--like Bill Murray--Groundhog Day awaited us tomorrow with a 3:30AM airport arrival and heretofore unknown degrees of incompetence to be faced.