And Back....

Well, John had another fine adventure in his Omniverse today.

The plan was to leave Saint John at 11:30am, get to Montreal with 1.5 hrs to navigate customs and get to my next plane. Arrive in Chicago with similar amount of time to find plane to So Cal and head home. Arrive here just before 7:30-- Super Shuttle to drive me home by 8ish. Relaxing evening of unpacking and tidying up, as I am now on Atlantic Time (+4 hrs) and 8 will feel like midnight to me.

Here's the reality. Saint John to Montreal goes without too much incident, however, leaving M yet again was just as painful as always. Gotta get moving already!

I got a little confused in Montreal, but was immediately set on the right path after asking a worker and had no problems reaching the plane.

And then the fun began-- because the captain of the Montreal to Chicago flight didn't want for his crew and himself to go through customs, they had to "begin the taxi" away from the gate. However, some mysterious something (which they never described adequately) meant we had to sit on the runway waiting for an hour. Yay. Go United. And then the captain has the audacity to come on and say that the tower is "fitting us in" and we are leaving "5 minutes ahead of schedule!" As the girl behind me, who apparently had an even rougher time with traveling today, said, "Whooppee-fucking-dooo." Amen, sister!

Long story short, I made it to my connecting flight while the plane was on the ground but after United closed the doors-- and they cannot make any exceptions to let me on the plane, of course. So, after hurrying from one end of the concourse to the other, I then needed to hurry most of the way back to where I started to queue into the line to try for a boarding pass on any other available flights. I got one with a departure of 8:15-- yay, a 3.5 hr layover.

I called M and left a message so she knew and I started the long walk through the 80's style Art Deco tunnel to concourse B and to my gate. M calls me back and we chat for about half an hour-- during which time she logs onto United's website and notes that, after a total of about an hour, the plane I could have been on finally takes off. *sigh

She also passes on some information that my gate-- although there has been no general announcement or an announcement at the gate at which I am sitting-- for my flight has been changed... back to concourse C. I hang up with M, go double-check the information she has relayed to me on a flight display (which involves traveling way down the concourse because, of course, Chicago O'Hare doesn't need to let you know where to go to catch flights), and sure enough, it has changed. I now high-tail it back over to concourse C and arrive nearly back where I started.

I call M back to thank her for the information, and then I break out the PBJ that she also very thoughtfully suggested I take with me.

Now, normally my stories end there. With delays and mad dashes to/through customs, etc. But not this time.

As I was sitting at concourse C, gate 16, eating my sandwich, a gentleman walked by. This guy was pretty old, but, beyond that, something about him made me say to myself, "Boy, he doesn't look so hot." He looked a little confused, and very pale. But not knowing him from Adam, I had to assume he always looked like that.

Well, on the tail end of our flight to Santa Ana, the stewardess came over the intercomm asking if any medical doctors were on board the flight. Not really a good sign. When we landed, we were delayed about 20-25 minutes while paramedics and sheriffs made their way onto the plane, resuscitated the same man I was worried about in Chicago, and took him off the plane on a gurney. I hope he's okay, and I wish I had spoken up when I first noticed him.

So, now it is midnight, I am home, have a very, very happy cat sitting next to me meowing and purring and asking for attention. I feel like it is 4 am, because I finally transitioned to Altantic Time about 3 days before needing to leave. And I have to go to bed because I'm scheduled to be at work tomorrow.

So, for those of you keeping track and who made it through this probably long-winded and digression-filled post (two things that happen a lot when I'm tired), that makes 6 total travels, three there and three back. And 8 problems with those flights (6 delays/rushes, 1 customs incident, and one medical incident).

So, basically, what I'm saying is this-- if you need to travel, find out if I'm on the same flight. And book a different one.

"Whooppeee-fucking-dooo."