Why I Hate Chicago, part 32

So I flew back to Walla Walla this past Sunday.

I got up at 4am to leave for the airport, for my 6:30am flight that would take me to Chicago, where I was to catch an 8:50am flight to Seattle. I would get to Seattle around noon-ish, and take a city bus to downtown Seattle, where I would catch a Greyhound to Walla Walla, which left at 6pm. If, for some unforeseen circumstance I didn't make that bus, I could still catch an 8:50pm bus. Either way, I'd make it back to College Place in time for work Monday afternoon.

I got on the flight to Chicago okay. I was sitting in the back of the aircraft, where I was surrounded by about 3-4 retired aircraft stewardesses, who had just gone to some convention together. They traded stories, and I listened without trying to look like I was eavesdropping.

We started our descent into Chicago. I watched the cloud cover slowly rise up to the aircraft; then, in that glorious moment when the airplane breaks through the clouds and the city spreads out before you, I didn't see a city--I saw the ground, 50 feet below.

Even then, I wasn't worried. At least, until I heard the engine roar back to life and watched the flaps on the airplane return to their usual position, as the aircraft quickly regained altitude. The pilot then announced that the fog had taken air traffic control by surprise; FAA regulations state that cloud cover must be at least 70 feet above the ground; and as such, the flight had been redirected to Milwaukee.

We waited on the tarmac in Milwaukee--a perfectly sunny day, by the way. We waited for an hour before the captain announced that the fog had lifted, and as soon as the plane was refueled and air traffic control had given the okay, we would be able to get to Chicago. By now it was 8:30am. I wasn't too worried about missing my connection, because during our layover in Milwaukee, every flight in and out of the airport had been delayed. Surely my flight was delayed as well.

After another hour, the captain announced that she was still waiting for air traffic control to give her clearance to take off. After another hour, the captain announced that she was still waiting for air traffic control to let her take off. After yet another hour, we were finally granted permission to take off--and now it was nearly noon. All this time, we sat on the tarmac, waiting. I wished I'd packed a book in my carry-on.

After landing in Chicago, we discovered our gate was occupied, and was thus forced to wait another 15 minutes before getting to the terminal. It was now about 12:30. We were told to go to the gate where the next flight going to our destination city would be taking off, as we had obviously missed our connections. After navigating the terminal for 20 minutes--apparently, though Alaska Airlines to Seattle is a codeshare with American Airlines, they are not American Airlines so I couldn't get on the flight--I found the Seattle flight, leaving at 3:30pm.

I waited at the customer help desk for 15 minutes while the guy at the desk did his thing. A guy in a business suit skipped the line that had formed behind me and went to the deskman, who helped him immediately.

I told him my tale of adventure so far. He told me that for some unknown reason, I had been rebooked through St. Louis. This was curious, because the St. Louis flight left at 3:50pm, and would get to Seattle fairly late at night--it would be pushing my 8:50pm deadline. I told him that if I didn't make it to Seattle in time, I would miss a day of work, hinting that I needed to be on that flight, and if I wasn't I might hold American Airlines responsible for negligence. He offered me a standby for the Seattle flight.

I was passenger number four on the standby list out of 24 people waiting. One of us made it onto the flight.

So, I went to the St. Louis desk, where I discovered that the St. Louis flight was delayed one hour. It eventually took off well past five. At this point, I was just grateful to get out of Chicago.

When I landed at St. Louis I walked right on to the plane to Seattle. I may have been the last passenger to board. Perhaps they had held the plane for my flight. At any rate, we landed in Seattle at 9pm. Ironically, my baggage had made it to Seattle on the direct flight I had been bumped from.

I left the airport and found a city bus going downtown had just pulled in to the terminal. I got on wielding my four bags. We're talking a rolling duffle bag (for lack of a better term), one of those roller things that everyone (especially pilots) has, a backpack and a briefcase. I sat down at the very front of the bus, because it was one of few seats that remained, and because if I didn't sit down, I'd have blocked the entire aisle. As it was I only blocked half the aisle. I was pleased that only a few people had to turn to make it around me. I held my large black bag on it's end the whole trip.

After this, I walked through Seattle streets, now at 10pm, dragging my bags in the now light rain that was falling. A few people, either drunk or just angry passed by as I tried to make myself as unseen as possible. At least, as unseen as a guy dragging four bags through a city core can be.

Once I got to the station, the bad news was confirmed: I had indeed missed the bus, and the next bus would leave at 9 the next morning, arriving at Walla Walla at 4:30pm, which would result in me missing work.

I stored my bags in the station, then went back into the streets to go to the hostel near the station that I always sleep at. Once I got there, I was told that there were no vacancies. However, there was a hotel they referred me to downtown that was beyond my price range.

I returned to sleep in the station.

The station had these wonderful metal grate seats, with armrests. Not bad if you're sitting, but terrible if you're trying to sleep. I alternated between weaving my body in and out of the armrests and curling up in the fetal position all night long. I was one of five. Unlike two/three of the others, I felt the floor was too dirty to sleep on. Had you seen it, I'm sure you would have agreed with me.

The rest of the trip went smoothly. Greyhound left on time. Greyhound apparently transfers onto the Grapevine now at Pasco, where a Greyhound ticket will suffice as fare. They dropped me off at the College Place station, which is by the railroad tracks. I walked the last few streets before a friend picked me up around the girls dorm and drove me the last two blocks home. I really, really enjoyed the relief my shoulders and back experienced. I think my collarbones had bone bruises from the backpack straps.

Oh, and American Airlines gave me no compensation for this. For missing a day of work. Neither did they offer me a hotel in Seattle. Thanks so much. I hope my reader feedback that this blog represents can be considered ample compensation.

9/11 Thoughts

They say you always remember where you were when something big happens. I was in my high school chemistry class, in Canada where I grew up. It was 10AM eastern. Someone said that a plane crashed into the Twin Towers. I wasn't the slightest bit astonished--I said that planes crash into New York buildings all the time, and cited the time a small aircraft flew into the Empire State building on a foggy day. Then they said that both of the towers were hit, and I didn't believe them at first, because flying an aircraft intentionally into a building just didn't compute. I granted that maybe a building fell because it was a big airplane, but I wasn't too worried.

They brought a TV into the school cafeteria for lunch. There was no cable/antenna, so the image was really, really grainy, but for the first time I got the idea that something really really bad had happened. The US history teacher completely ignored the lesson plan for the day and talked about the history of why Arabs hate Americans, going back to 1948 and the historical claims of the Arabs and Israel to the same piece of land.

Later that night, my Dad went to Future Shop to buy a TV. We spent an hour in the store just watching the clear images for the first time. 9/11 was enough to get my Dad to back off the vow to keep the evil influence of television out of the house. He talked about the world coming to an end.

I read about prophecies that predicted 9/11 in the coming weeks. EGW was very convincing. I still think that the greatest miracle of 9/11 was that so few people were killed. Repeat 9/11 a thousand times, and I tell you that 3,000 dead would be on the low end of the scale.

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I was driving to visit my grandparents last weekend. My cousin was getting married. It was maybe 9pm at night. I was surprised to see every bridge we passed lined with people waving Canadian flags and emergency vehicles, sirens flashing, police officers, firefighters, and paramedics standing at attention. Apparently, the bodies of three Canadian soldiers who died in Afghanistan were returning home that night. We must have been driving down the freeway five minutes in front of the motorcade. They were travelling from the military base in Trenton to the coroner's office in Toronto. I couldn't believe how many people were on the bridges, just to honour the soldiers. Some bridges had 200, some had 30. In all cases, the people were there, ready to salute the passing soldiers.