The previous post is Toss It, Day Two.
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Trouble at DCA · Jul 24, 08:55 PM

The thing I like about getting stuck while trying to fly: there are always a couple of interesting people with a positive attitude. We find each other randomly, join forces, tackle the situation together, bond in the adversity, and then everyone goes there separate ways.

This time I met a pharmaceutical saleswoman, a retired marine, and an air force base commander on leave. It started innocently enough; the marine and I were on a US Airways flight at from DCA to PVD, nominally departing at 4:45, that sat on the tarmac for three hours before returning to the gate (maybe you vaguely remember like I did the news passing by about a “Passengers Bill of Rights”, which sets that three hour limit). Back in the terminal, us and several hundred other humans were all directed to get re-accommodated at the service desk. The desk is helpful. Later in the evening the marine would get a first-class ticket on a shuttle to LGA, but the line we were in was not moving, so half-of us were also in another queue, on the US Airways 1-800 line. I made it to a competent service rep. first, and after getting myself a seat on the 9:15, I took confirmation numbers from the marine and air force guy and got them identically settled.

It was a bad idea, of course, trying to get on the 9:15. At least one major line of thunderstorms was moving down the eastern seaboard, putting Boston, Providence, New York, and Reagan National traffic all to a standstill at different points. A network flow diagram would have illustrated how seriously fskd everyone flying east of the Mississippi was becoming. We should have been looking for next-day flights. By the time the 9:15 turned to 9:30, 9:45, 10:00, 10:30, and was finally put down, all the Thursday flights to Providence were full.

This is when the pharma saleswoman enters. She’s on a pay phone talking to a special line just for very frequent flyers, and she’s booked a next-day 7:30 flight to Logan International in Boston. We use her connection to get seats booked, too, except that it will turn out that we didn’t get seats booked, and maybe not even reserved (who will ever know?), but we felt better.

…

The story continues like that, where Vonnegut would write, “And so on.” The next day, when I was back at work, running on fumes and coffee, several people asked, “Did you sleep in the airport?”. They got it when I replied, “No, not really,” and I was able to enjoy a little sympathy.

I had been curled up trying my best to sleep through the cleaning regime, and then spent two hours working with the air force guy to get actually booked seats with boarding passes the next morning after everyone was kicked out of the security-cleared zone. After the shuttle to Boston (delayed in-flight, wouldn’t you know), the saleswoman drove me to PVD where both of our cars were parked.

So I’m a little tired, but I’m back. Just in time to pack for my move to the East Side.

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