June 17, 2000 - Saturday
My original flight home wasn't until tomorrow morning and the west coast to east coast travel meant I'd miss being with Harry for most of tomorrow, Father's Day. That wouldn't be such a big deal really. Father's Day is something of commercially manufactured holiday. However, since I learned that many of my colleagues were leaving for their respective destinations late tonight, I decided an inquiry about a redeye home had nothing to loose. Sure enough, the airline representative said that I'd only have to pay the $75 fee for changing the ticket and they'd wave the Saturday night stay restriction. I figured the redeye was probably not very full and that the morning flight was. I said I'd call right back after confirming that I could check out of the hotel early and did so. Unfortunately, I didn't speak to the same rep and the second saw things differently, saying it would be $2000 without a Saturday night stay even though I'd been told something else previously. Apparently, I'd been offered something the first time that was more special than I realized. The morning flight was overbooked, but the redeye was at 85%. Persistence paid off and a third call reached yet another rep who agreed that if I'd been told something, they would honor it and processed the change. I told her she made my day and that it meant I'd be home for my first father's day. She was a new mother of a 3-month old and, thus, seemed just as happy as I was happy that's I'd be home for my special day. It's a parental fraternity.

The real trouble started when I arranged a shuttle to the airport. It didn't seem like a problem at the time, but I chose the later of two times offered for a 10:05pm departure as I wasn't sure about my groups' plans for the evening. With an hour and a half to spare, the later time should have been fine. Once I learned that I could go earlier, I actually called the shuttle back and asked for the earlier time, but it wasn't available. I wasn't worried.

The shuttle picked me up right on time with just two other stops before heading to the airport, a 45 minute ride. The first stop wasn't so much of a problem. It was another hotel just a mile or two away and the driver only lost 5-10 minutes going the wrong way down the street before turning around, but that, unfortunately, was a harbinger of things to come. Right away after pulling out of that second pickup location, the driver pulled off the road to check his map. Now, I would have thought that a driver, especially one with a trainee in the copilot seat, would have studied the map a little before hand and had a sense of where to go before the paying customers were in the van. But, perhaps that's just me and this driver had not done so. Unfortunately, that initial look at the map didn't do it for him and he got onto a secondary highway (not the one toward the airport) and went two exits past where he should have been before making another U-turn. That still wasn't that bad. Heck, I had an hour and a half to spare and, while annoying, I hadn't really started to think about not seeing Harry.

But, the driver clearly had no idea of direction, turning in more circles and stopping several times to check the map. The other passengers and I all started to fear for our flights and insisted that we go straight to the airport. After more than one hour in the shuttle and being no closer to the airport than when we started, we all insisted on speaking with the dispatcher. But, the dispatcher had less customer service sense than the driver and said if we didn't like the service we should get out and take a cab. We didn't like it and we did decide to take our chances with a cab. If a cab had shown up immediately, we still would have been OK. But, alas, a couple of phone calls by a friendly restaurant manager determined the closest cab was about twenty minutes away.

Those twenty minutes, if accurate, would likely cut it down to the wire. But with cabs, of course, twenty minutes could be 40 in reality and I knew that. What if I missed the plane? I'd be back to the original schedule, or would I? But, that original flight was overbooked and I'd given up my spot. Would I even get on a flight tomorrow? Would I miss seeing Harry all together on Father's Day? It was a very long twenty minutes. I paced. I pined. I waited. But, to my great partial relief, the cab arrived in what I believe was exactly twenty minutes. Now, how far was the airport really?

With the story of our ordeal, and apologies for being so riled up, the taxi driver made haste and got us to the airport by 10:00, five minutes before my takeoff. The jetway door was closed and locked when I ran up to the gate, but the airplane doors hadn't yet been sealed and I made it. I lost my aisle seat and had the rare treat of a dreaded middle seat on a redeye flight, but by then I just wanted to see my boy.


Comments, opinions?