Oh, the Places You'll (Eventually) Go!

I have had some nightmarish travel experiences in my day, the most notable being a Thanksgiving “flight” from Raleigh-Durham to Islip that resulted somehow in a bus trip from Baltimore to Long Island and concluded mercifully at 6 a.m.

Well, now the adventure I had Wednesday trying to get from RDU to Bloomington, Indiana, now officially ranks right up there. What follows is the summarized version (for the sake of both your and my sanity):

My fellow U.(As)S. Airways passengers and I had nearly a two-hour delay in Raleigh thanks to “high winds” in Philly, which was were I was connecting to Indianapolis. From Indy, I’d rent a car and drive the hour or so to Bloomington.

So these winds screw us right off the bat, as I arrive in Philly well after my connecting flight has left. So they put me on a flight three hours later. I should mention that I’m flying the day of the game I have to cover, so if I’m not in Assembly Hall by 9 p.m., there’s no reason for me to be there at all.

Now I’m on a 4 p.m. flight to Indy, arriving at 6 p.m. – allegedly. We get pushed back to 4:30, and we’re still not on the plane yet. So I inquire with a gate agent about flights back to RDU, figuring if it gets too late for me to make the game, why even go to Indy? He tells me to wait. I do, for 20 minutes. Then this jerk announces a gate change, and the herd migrates hurriedly.

At the new gate I wait in line again. He blows me off til it’s boarding time. I ask again, and he says I’ll have to wait. Wait til when? I have to get on the damn plane! I explain to him that I’ve been waiting 40 minutes for him to check on something that would take him two minutes. The following exchange occurs:

Gate Agent (smugly): Well, your patience is appreciated.
Me (angrily): Well, your condescension is not.

So I get on the plane and ask the flight attendants if they have one of those books with all the flights in it because the guy at the gate has ignored me and been mean. They say no, but I should ask him again, or go check the screen and then come back.

I leave the plane and exchange some more unpleasantries with the gate guy. He tells me to get on the plane NOW because he’s closing the doors. But when I get on the flight attendants stop me and tell me how nice I was to them, whereas other people (or me at any other given moment) normally yell at them for stuff that’s not their fault.

So, get this. They bump me to first class. Thanks, girls of Flight 1089 – you’re aces. They are, as my roommate might say, two of the all-time greats.

So I made it to the game, and I learned an important lesson: Sometimes being nice and polite in the face of frustration is better than raging out with profanity.

No, wait, that wasn’t it. Oh yeah, the lesson was: U.S. Airways sucks. And the Philly airport, too.

Day two travel note (I feel like Peter King): The next morning (Thursday), leaving Indy, I get pulled aside by security. The guy tells me he is going to wand me and then pat me down. He then says: “If at any time you’d like a private screening, let me know.”

While he seemed like a nice, strapping young Indiana lad, I can’t think of one good reason why I’d want a “private” screening from him. No thanks, guy, you can pat me down right here in front of everybody.

Is this like the airport equivalent of the strip-club VIP room? Excuse me, sir, how much for the, ahem, private screening. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

Of course maybe I shouldn’t have been stuffing dollar bills in his g-string. Oh well, live and learn I guess.