The day started with a delay. It had been a few months since I had flown and I wasn't bothered by the 20 minute delay at first. I had lots of work to do and a perfect spot and a chai latte to send my hundreds of emails. Okay hundreds might be a little exaggeration, but 100 would not be. I still can't believe I'm that girl, the girl tied to her email because they never ever stop.
My phone rang with the number that I will always remember, because it calls at all the worst times. It was the Delta automated call, informing me that my flights were being rebooked because of the delay. Well, this delay just got a lot less fun.
When I saw the line at the gate desk I took it upon myself to call Delta, as the gate agent had recommended. The woman on the other end of the line was very kind as she told me I could take a direct flight to Laguardia at 5:07 pm. It was 10:00 in the morning.
"Oh."
"It's a direct flight," she said, trying to make it sound like it was a good deal.
I quickly thought through a few scenarios. I didn't have my car at the airport, but I could take a cab home for a while.
"Hmmmm..."
"We also have a flight leaving at 3:30"
It was now 10:01 in the morning.
"I very much appreciate your help, but I'm going to need to think about this and speak to the gate agent here."
I got in line at the gate desk and the woman very quickly booked me on the next flight from Detroit to NYC. She didn't take me off of my original flight in case it was also delayed and I could make it, but my flight would only be less than two hours later than the original. And so I awarded another point for human interaction and face-to-face conversations!
I sat back down at my table, sorted through more emails and downloaded documents to my desktop so I could work while we were in the air, waiting to board the flight.
It seemed like only a matter of moments until I boarded the first flight and checked my bag plane side, not needing to worry about finding a place for it overhead. I found my seat and promptly slept through the entire 42 minute flight. I woke up as we were landing in Detroit, confirming that I must have been kidding myself to think I was going to do work on the plane. It had been a late night the night before and a plane for me is like a bouncy rocker and a white noise machine for a baby. I was out.
In Detroit I nearly froze exiting the plane. I stood on the jet bridge cursing the arrival of winter while I waited for my bag. Plane side checking can be such a pain!
I was able to head to a familiar restaurant in the terminal while I waited for my flight. My friends (and petsitters) sent a photo of Wilbur eating his breakfast letting me know what a good boy he was being. Phew. Let's hope it lasts!
I arrived at the gate early hoping to give my telephone enough juice to make it through the entire flight. As this was the first flight I had taken that allowed me to keep my music on for the entire flight, including those first 10,000 feet, I wanted to make sure I could take full advantage. Also, there had been a screamer on my first flight and the Bastille album got me through. I didn't want to take any chances with round two.
It was a larger plane so I had to lift my carry on over my head, all the while wishing they had plane side checking! The seat next to me was left empty, so I crossed my legs, not worrying about kicking the person next to me and closed my eyes.
I woke up to the sounds of cans cracking open. I opened my eyes to realize that the cart was right next to me. Yes! My throat felt incredibly dry and a Diet Coke sounded delicious. The woman on one side of the cart was helping the rows in front of me. The man on the other side of the cart was helping the people behind me. With every cracked can and pour of water, juice, or soda I got a tiny bit closer to dehydration. Each person was receiving a cup of a delicious beverage and two packets of pretzels. I'm not sure why the famous Delta cookies weren't making an appearance on this flight, but two packs of pretzels sounded perfectly fine. The man helped the row directly behind me, and I knew my turn was nearly here. The woman made some motion about the rows directly in front of me and walked away. The cart was in motion! And it kept going.
What? Stop! Come back!
The man who was going to be my saving grace, providing me with the gift of a cool beverage, began serving the two rows ahead of me. Okay. Be patient, Meaghan. Be patient. My throat became smaller and smaller.
Finally it was turn for my row. The man started with the A and C seats, the only two people on the other side of the aisle. The C-seat woman refused her ginger ale when he gave her a cup with ice in it. Apparently she didn't want ice!
I would take ice. I won't be picky.
The man had to crack open another can for a new cup of ginger ale. Then after handing C-seat her two bags of pretzels, she asked for cookies instead. The man walked to the back of the plane to look for cookies. It felt like an eternity when he finally came back with a handful of Biscoff cookies.
I'm dying over here, lady. Hurry it up already!
I was a little excited to know that there was potential for cookies, but come on, the world was starting to look foggy and tunnel-y. I. Need. Diet. Coke. The woman returned to her post at the front of the cart, and the cart was in motion again.
No. No! Please help me.
I was about to say something to the woman just as she was about to walk away, but she beat me to it. I was the only person left on the plane without a beverage. She quickly asked me, as though it wasn't obvious that I was about to die, what I would like to drink. After hearing my response she handed me a cup filled with ice an entire can of Diet Coke.
"Here. You can just have a full can."
Then she handed me a pack of cookies and a pack of pretzels.
Yay! An entire can? I can savor this one for a while.
I had just filled my cup with soda and allowed the fizz to settle down when another woman walked by with a trash bag. The captain came over the speaker system alerting us that we were preparing to land.
You have got to be kidding me!
It usually takes me a good hour to drink an entire can of soda- if I can even finish it. I didn't want to put a full cup of soda in the woman's trash bag, so I drank it as quickly as I possibly could, cursing my sensitive teeth all the while. I did my best to place the half-full can at the bottom of her trash bag before putting my seat back and tray table in the upright and locked position. Before I knew it, we were in New York.
As we were waiting to deplane and people were crowding the aisles, I couldn't help but stare at C-seat. What a piece of work. And why in the world was she still wearing her neck pillow? What is it with people and neck pillows? Just because you are traveling does not mean you are allowed to look like a complete and utter fool who happens to also have a broken neck. But, I'm beginning to think I am in the minority with that opinion.
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