Being on time. 

Let’s chat about being on time for just a moment.  It is rare that I am timely these days as every event, such as putting a coat on the baby, takes much longer than necessary.  However, I am not, nor will I ever be, an airline pilot. 

What does that mean when you have a delayed flight crew?  Huh?  I’m sure it really means that there was too much snow on the runway, but I can’t help but think that somewhere my flight attendant is hitting the snooze button.  Yesterday when the adventure began, my first flight was delayed from 4:06 to a new flight time of 4:34.  That still gave me time to get to my connection. 

After a fruitless effort to locate our Elmo Cell Phone, my parents, Babycakes, & I hopped in the car to drive to the airport.  I should remind you that there is no easy way to get to my parents’ home and so after a one hour ride through Amish country, we eventually arrived at the bus airline terminal. 

When I checked in, Olga at the counter notified me that our flight was delayed to 4:50.  And she said, “If you don’t leave by 5:00, you’ll miss your next flight.  And unfortunately, we don’t have any other available flights.  Sorry.” 

My connection was scheduled to depart at 6:25.  We arrived in Philadelphia at 6:10.  When Babycakes and I deplaned, Eugene from customer service handed us a boarding pass for a new flight…  uhm, for DECEMBER 24th! 

After I retrieved our stroller, another passenger said ”Hey, I just heard our flight called.  Maybe we can make it!”  So we ran.  We ran through F terminal to the shuttle.  We Ccught our breath through the bumpy snowy bus ride.  When the doors opened, I ran.  I had cramps, my throat was dry, but I refused to stop.  I Forrest Gumped it at least a mile through terminal A only to find that the airplane was gone.  Gone.  Gone.  Gone. 

I suddenly felt like I was trapped in the movie script for Home Alone — maybe I’ll hitch a ride to the Carolinas in the back of a moving van with a Polka Band.  I was sent to Customer Service where I waited for two hours only to be told that I should now go to the “other ticket counter.”  The other ticket counter was downstairs outside security and when I got into that line, I noticed that it was for International Ticketing.  Where is the Christmas Spirit for the poor girl with the baby?  No mercy. 

We walked back through security where Mr. TSA thought he was hysterically funny.  “We had a lady show up this morning looking for her relative.  He’d been stuck here for two days.  The police couldn’t even find him.”  Lovely.  Shut up.  Merry Christmas.  Time to do things my way. 

Enter iPhone — stage left.  I called Customer Service & as predicted there were no flights to my airport for two days.  The earliest she could get me on a plane was 9:35 to an airport two hours from my house.  Of course, we had to take it.  I certainly don’t want to live in the Philadelphia airport forever. 

Babycakes and I grabbed the shuttle bus for a second time and located our gate only to find that our newest flight was also delayed to 9:50.  At 10:00, we were still waiting to board.  Babycakes was punch drunk dancing in my arms to Feliz Navidad and calling the nice man standing next to us “Santa!”.  By the time we reached 10,000 feet, I had a sweaty, cookie-covered, sleeping baby in my arms. 

I wish I could say that when we arrived in Columbia at midnight that we collected my bag and drove home.  An hour later, my luggage was located at another airport (no worries — they are delivering it this morning!).  And so, at 3:15 am., I laid down my own sweet head. 

My bags just arrived — perhaps it can be a Merry Christmas after all.  

Next time, I think we’ll take the train.