Flying Off the Handle, Part Two

So rewind a few weeks, I'm back in the airport, getting ready to go to DC.

Get on the plane in Boston on US Airways, uneventful ride. Get off the plane, about to ask representative how to get to connecting flight. I hear the woman in front of me ask the same question and find out we're supposed to go to the United terminal, so I decide to follow her. Don't realize she's moving so fast, I can hardly keep up. I lose her while still in the US Airways terminal. I stand in the middle of the terminal looking for signage about United. Don't see any.

I hear a voice coming from somewhere, faintly, saying, "If you're going to United, come this way." I turn to the left and to the right. Nothing. I hear a man say, "Is this the way to United?" and see a door opening behind the US Airways counter. I make a mad dash to the door.

The man and I go down some stairs and suddenly we're on the tarmac. There's a bus pulling away, and we wave our arms frantically until it swings around to get us. We climb aboard. The first image that comes to mind about this bus is that it looks like those prison buses you see in the movies. We're not going to catch a connecting flight, we're all going to jail.

The bus drives for a few minutes, then stops. The driver gets on the phone and then hangs up, telling the passenger right in back of him what was said. I yell from the back of the bus, "The back of the bus can't hear what's going on!" So the message gets passed down like some weird game of Telephone: there's no stairway to the United terminal, and no one is there to open the door for us. The driver was told to drive back to US Airways. Okay, so now we're all looking at our watches and realize that our plane is leaving in 20 minutes. This is not okay. The driver says there's nothing he can do, and starts driving back.

We get back to US Airways, all pile off the bus, and go back inside. Half the group stays behind to complain to representatives, and half of us gather together to discuss what we should do. Someone says, "Let's just go to the sidewalk and take a public bus to the terminal." We all go outside. We don't even know what terminal we're looking for, so half of our now halved group scans the airport map, and half wait for a bus. We get the terminal letter, and wait. I pipe up, "I feel like we're on a reality TV show. Where are the cameras?" Bitter laughter.

After a few mintues of no bus arriving, someone says, "Look, there's a sign that says, 'Walkway to Terminals'. Let's run!" Sounds good to us, we start booking it. I scream, "Let's pretend we're on The Amazing Race!" We are running, some in heels, some with no coats, some with wheelie bags flying behind. It's 32 degrees.

We run, run, run down the walkway in the dark cold night. None of us knows where we're going, we just figure the guys in the front will lead us the right way. They do. We get inside to whatever terminal it is, B or C or something, and discover that we have to go through security again. Our flight leaves in five minutes.

One woman and I talk about how we're going to get compensation for this shit, this is not okay, are you a student? no, I'm a teacher. I go to BU Law. Oh? says someone else, me too. oh? We're doing this as we're removing our shoes and putting our things into the grey bins for security.

Find out what gate we're supposed to go to, run to the gate. Arrive, breathless, panting, gasping for air. No one is at the gate. One man arrives to tell us the flight is late. We are pissed. We are incensed. We are ripshit. We are hungry. I go over to the little store and buy us dinner: cinnamon raisin bagel chips. We pass the bag around. Pose for a group photo. Talk about who to write the letter of complaint to. Hear a rumor that there were actually three groups of people for this flight: one group made it on the first bus and had no problem, our group, and the last group, who stayed behind to complain and probably got compensated.

The flight arrives. We get on and have an uneventful ride, except for the dramatic story I tell the flight attendant to explain why we all look so upset. She suggests writing to both the airport and the airlines.

We arrive in DC. I can't wait to blog.