This actually happened. It is all true I am not making it up or embellishing. Hell, I couldn’t. I could not have dreamed, conjured, projected, created or visualized what happened to me last week. In fact it resembled the movie The Hills Have Eyes II, the obvious delusion of madmen (no woman would let this happen) with conscientious connection to the reality of others. In fact it has taken me a full week to be able to talk about. Like seeing Winged Migration really high in the middle of an afternoon with a bunch of retirees and never coming clean (literally and figuratively) about where you were.
Our story opens on a Sunday at Terminal C, San Jose International (cough) Airport. It is 6:10AM and one of about 6 flights leaving between San Jose and Salt Lake City, Denver, Chicago, Phoenix, LA etc is queuing up to leave. It is the Sunday before the Canadian Thanksgiving (as it is wrongly referred to) which is the next day, Monday. So everyone, me included is trying to get to someplace in Canada on Sunday.
“Ladies and gentlemen this is the captain speaking, maintenance has detected a leaky hydraulic cylinder on the landing gear and ….”
His voice trailed off and all I thought about was how am I going to get to eastern Canada, today, in one piece, sans of course, my luggage which I had to check because I was bringing two bottles of wine for our controller.
United Airlines; in Latin United means;” your f**&^d.” Seriously is there a worse airline than United?
So the bedlam began. Offloaded and about 65 passengers queued up to a counter with, and I swear, one ticket agent. UFB. So we wait and people start to talk about where they need to go and how. I notice a flight to Chicago where the only other United Airline ticket agent is standing, and ask a very gracious lady named Terry to hold my spot. She obliges and I talk to the Chicago agent knowing if I get to Chicago I have shot at Montreal or Toronto and can then get to my final destination (withheld). The UA ticket agent at the Chicago gate (flight leaving in 10 minutes) tells me to go back to my previous line as there is nothing she can do. So I go back to my line watching the clock tick on a Chicago flight which is the only flight in the next few hours I can catch to have a shot at making it to my final destination by midnight EST.
“Hi, I need to get to Montreal or Toronto and I know that Chicago flight leaving at Gate 6c will get me there.”
“Fine, go see the gate agent she can check you in.”
“But she said she couldn’t, I was just there and asked her.”
“She will [check you in], just get to the gate before the flight leaves.”
Okay, I feel better after writing that down so here is the short version of the rest of a long trip.
Was the last passenger booked on the Chicago flight, got an exit row, had to kick a squatter out of my exit Row seat. He worked for proofpoint (email security and data loss prevention, yawn). Settled in and watched Evan Almighty, read Autoweek, listened to my iPod and then were descending into Chicago. San Jose, CA morning temperature was 48 degrees. Landing in Chicago temperature was 92 degrees. Climate change?
Off the plane to connecting flights and in an incredible string of bad luck the United flight from Chicago to Toronto was cancelled. NFW. So I scooted off to the international terminal to talk my way onto an Air Canada flight. This was the suggestion of the United counter Customer Care Representative, who despite my bitterly preconceived notions, was tremendously helpful. He said. “Look your luggage is gone for at least 2 days. So you need to lie to Air Canada and tell them you have no bags as they will not let you travel without your checked bags. Also lie to customs [entering Canada], same topic. Now go.”
Really I felt like I was Jason Bourne in one of the Bourne Redundancy movies, receiving instructions from an operative on how to entry a country essentially illegally, which the more I thought about I was, actually doing just that.
Staring me in the face was the “planeshonships” (TMPWVA) along the way. I was in no way the only person whose day was screwed up. Some were far worse days than mine; missed flights meant missed flight (and social) connections which meant a night over in a city too far but near where their final destination lies. There was Terry, headed to Kingston, Ontario to see the family. Could she make the last flight out to Kingston given all the delays? When I saw her for the umpteenth time I offered her my seat as she ended up trying to get on the same Air Canada flight to Toronto as me, and was on standby. Now I realize this s “nice” move by me and a cheddar gesture. But she was much more stressed than I was and a few hours to me meant less time to really settle in at a third tier hotel. At least hat was my rationalization running in my cabeza. I asked her what happened and she told me and it was, bottom line, a ticket agent having a bad day. Let me explain.
When I approach the counter I literally looked for the ticket agent who looked for me. That is if the ticket agent ducked me with his eyes, like the middle guy of the three, than I waited them out. The guy on the left looked and waved me in, whew.
He was reading a local gay Chicago newspaper or newsletter of some kind, as the first thing I did was watch him put is down and thought to myself, “That is way too many ab shots of dudes on one page.”
So I told my story, lying about my check in luggage and figuring it would arrive sometime in the upcoming week. I noticed we had a little man-love working and though I am probably gay and do not know it yet, this is what my friends who are gay say. I was not into a dude at the Air Canada counter that is all I knew. But we did connect, perhaps it was my look; a lot of Lyle Lovett, some Paul Riser and Steve Gutenberg tossed in; smokin’! So after our Brokeback Mountain moment he gave me a window seat from Chicago to Toronto, I had picked up the new Michael Connelly book; Echo Park which is good bubble gum fro you head.
Flight was OJ for fluids, iPod, Echo Park, and in no time we were there.
Off to customs. At this time I was looking worked, up at 4:30AM PST, cancel a flight, get on a flight, cancel a flight, get on a flight so I headed through customs, lied and went to the next get to get my connection.
My last leg was no problem, quick flight, off to get a cab to the Tetanus Shot Motel (TSM). Now all I have to do is; undress, wash my t-shirt, tank top, boxers, and socks in the sink for tomorrow, turn up the AC to keep the air dry in the room and drop an Ambien to crash. Wait. The fuggen Ambien is in the suitcase. In fact my entire toilet kit is there. So I headed off to the petrol station across the parking lot and bought the only pack of swabs they had (200 of them), tooth paste (Crest Mountains Scent or some shit like that), Mennen Speed Stick Ocean Surf cent which burned like hell applying and did not really deter my scent and a toothbrush from under the register.
From there a brief stop at Tim Horton’s for the Turkey Bacon Club, a chocolate chip cookie, water and off to the TSM.
Exhausted relieved and hungry, I called my wife who had received text message updates all day about my trip, and she said, “Forget the day, now wash the clothes, eat, brush crash. The longer the clothes dry the better.”
So I did. The next day I entered executive staff in the same clothes I wore the day before. Sat in meetings from 9AM EST until 10PM at night, went back to the TSM undressed, washed clothes, crashed and did not sleep more than 4 hours, our CTO brought me his clothes, and this was very funny to all except me.
Day two; I was wearing my CTO’s shirt, pants, and belt AND my VP of Marketing’s jacket. Oh and today was our glamour shot day for the web site. Anyone bedsides me not shave? I looked liked a modified version of party-Neil Young meets crazy haired Morgan Freeman on the electric company. F-ing-a I was thrashed. No shave, frizzed out head, tired dark circles under my eyes, Keen Ashland Clogs with short dark blue wool dress pants, a really cool Signum shirt, that in an odd coincidence I had awarded him a year prior for his efforts on an account so it was oddly appropriate.
And I was grumpy, cranky, fidgety, and my tummy hurt. However, a little make up and call from our office manager saved the day. I had my clothes in hand by 12:30pm changed in the office shower, got my face made up, picture taken, afternoon meetings out of the way and off to the company cocktail reception at Dooly’s for all. Now the company has three women who work for it, so it was a bit like a bachelor party waiting for the strippers.
Wednesday was the first full day o sales meetings, I got up, ran 3.25 miles, showered, shaved, changed into my own clothes, and say happily in the first day’s meeting. By no means was I fresh, but the life style of “business homeless” had passed as my suitcase arrived. My controller got her wine, I got a change of clothes and my precious Ambien took me away for one great night’s sleep. When I woke, the horror of the team building event set in like the cold rain in the city.
To be continued.
Our story opens on a Sunday at Terminal C, San Jose International (cough) Airport. It is 6:10AM and one of about 6 flights leaving between San Jose and Salt Lake City, Denver, Chicago, Phoenix, LA etc is queuing up to leave. It is the Sunday before the Canadian Thanksgiving (as it is wrongly referred to) which is the next day, Monday. So everyone, me included is trying to get to someplace in Canada on Sunday.
“Ladies and gentlemen this is the captain speaking, maintenance has detected a leaky hydraulic cylinder on the landing gear and ….”
His voice trailed off and all I thought about was how am I going to get to eastern Canada, today, in one piece, sans of course, my luggage which I had to check because I was bringing two bottles of wine for our controller.
United Airlines; in Latin United means;” your f**&^d.” Seriously is there a worse airline than United?
So the bedlam began. Offloaded and about 65 passengers queued up to a counter with, and I swear, one ticket agent. UFB. So we wait and people start to talk about where they need to go and how. I notice a flight to Chicago where the only other United Airline ticket agent is standing, and ask a very gracious lady named Terry to hold my spot. She obliges and I talk to the Chicago agent knowing if I get to Chicago I have shot at Montreal or Toronto and can then get to my final destination (withheld). The UA ticket agent at the Chicago gate (flight leaving in 10 minutes) tells me to go back to my previous line as there is nothing she can do. So I go back to my line watching the clock tick on a Chicago flight which is the only flight in the next few hours I can catch to have a shot at making it to my final destination by midnight EST.
“Hi, I need to get to Montreal or Toronto and I know that Chicago flight leaving at Gate 6c will get me there.”
“Fine, go see the gate agent she can check you in.”
“But she said she couldn’t, I was just there and asked her.”
“She will [check you in], just get to the gate before the flight leaves.”
Okay, I feel better after writing that down so here is the short version of the rest of a long trip.
Was the last passenger booked on the Chicago flight, got an exit row, had to kick a squatter out of my exit Row seat. He worked for proofpoint (email security and data loss prevention, yawn). Settled in and watched Evan Almighty, read Autoweek, listened to my iPod and then were descending into Chicago. San Jose, CA morning temperature was 48 degrees. Landing in Chicago temperature was 92 degrees. Climate change?
Off the plane to connecting flights and in an incredible string of bad luck the United flight from Chicago to Toronto was cancelled. NFW. So I scooted off to the international terminal to talk my way onto an Air Canada flight. This was the suggestion of the United counter Customer Care Representative, who despite my bitterly preconceived notions, was tremendously helpful. He said. “Look your luggage is gone for at least 2 days. So you need to lie to Air Canada and tell them you have no bags as they will not let you travel without your checked bags. Also lie to customs [entering Canada], same topic. Now go.”
Really I felt like I was Jason Bourne in one of the Bourne Redundancy movies, receiving instructions from an operative on how to entry a country essentially illegally, which the more I thought about I was, actually doing just that.
Staring me in the face was the “planeshonships” (TMPWVA) along the way. I was in no way the only person whose day was screwed up. Some were far worse days than mine; missed flights meant missed flight (and social) connections which meant a night over in a city too far but near where their final destination lies. There was Terry, headed to Kingston, Ontario to see the family. Could she make the last flight out to Kingston given all the delays? When I saw her for the umpteenth time I offered her my seat as she ended up trying to get on the same Air Canada flight to Toronto as me, and was on standby. Now I realize this s “nice” move by me and a cheddar gesture. But she was much more stressed than I was and a few hours to me meant less time to really settle in at a third tier hotel. At least hat was my rationalization running in my cabeza. I asked her what happened and she told me and it was, bottom line, a ticket agent having a bad day. Let me explain.
When I approach the counter I literally looked for the ticket agent who looked for me. That is if the ticket agent ducked me with his eyes, like the middle guy of the three, than I waited them out. The guy on the left looked and waved me in, whew.
He was reading a local gay Chicago newspaper or newsletter of some kind, as the first thing I did was watch him put is down and thought to myself, “That is way too many ab shots of dudes on one page.”
So I told my story, lying about my check in luggage and figuring it would arrive sometime in the upcoming week. I noticed we had a little man-love working and though I am probably gay and do not know it yet, this is what my friends who are gay say. I was not into a dude at the Air Canada counter that is all I knew. But we did connect, perhaps it was my look; a lot of Lyle Lovett, some Paul Riser and Steve Gutenberg tossed in; smokin’! So after our Brokeback Mountain moment he gave me a window seat from Chicago to Toronto, I had picked up the new Michael Connelly book; Echo Park which is good bubble gum fro you head.
Flight was OJ for fluids, iPod, Echo Park, and in no time we were there.
Off to customs. At this time I was looking worked, up at 4:30AM PST, cancel a flight, get on a flight, cancel a flight, get on a flight so I headed through customs, lied and went to the next get to get my connection.
My last leg was no problem, quick flight, off to get a cab to the Tetanus Shot Motel (TSM). Now all I have to do is; undress, wash my t-shirt, tank top, boxers, and socks in the sink for tomorrow, turn up the AC to keep the air dry in the room and drop an Ambien to crash. Wait. The fuggen Ambien is in the suitcase. In fact my entire toilet kit is there. So I headed off to the petrol station across the parking lot and bought the only pack of swabs they had (200 of them), tooth paste (Crest Mountains Scent or some shit like that), Mennen Speed Stick Ocean Surf cent which burned like hell applying and did not really deter my scent and a toothbrush from under the register.
From there a brief stop at Tim Horton’s for the Turkey Bacon Club, a chocolate chip cookie, water and off to the TSM.
Exhausted relieved and hungry, I called my wife who had received text message updates all day about my trip, and she said, “Forget the day, now wash the clothes, eat, brush crash. The longer the clothes dry the better.”
So I did. The next day I entered executive staff in the same clothes I wore the day before. Sat in meetings from 9AM EST until 10PM at night, went back to the TSM undressed, washed clothes, crashed and did not sleep more than 4 hours, our CTO brought me his clothes, and this was very funny to all except me.
Day two; I was wearing my CTO’s shirt, pants, and belt AND my VP of Marketing’s jacket. Oh and today was our glamour shot day for the web site. Anyone bedsides me not shave? I looked liked a modified version of party-Neil Young meets crazy haired Morgan Freeman on the electric company. F-ing-a I was thrashed. No shave, frizzed out head, tired dark circles under my eyes, Keen Ashland Clogs with short dark blue wool dress pants, a really cool Signum shirt, that in an odd coincidence I had awarded him a year prior for his efforts on an account so it was oddly appropriate.
And I was grumpy, cranky, fidgety, and my tummy hurt. However, a little make up and call from our office manager saved the day. I had my clothes in hand by 12:30pm changed in the office shower, got my face made up, picture taken, afternoon meetings out of the way and off to the company cocktail reception at Dooly’s for all. Now the company has three women who work for it, so it was a bit like a bachelor party waiting for the strippers.
Wednesday was the first full day o sales meetings, I got up, ran 3.25 miles, showered, shaved, changed into my own clothes, and say happily in the first day’s meeting. By no means was I fresh, but the life style of “business homeless” had passed as my suitcase arrived. My controller got her wine, I got a change of clothes and my precious Ambien took me away for one great night’s sleep. When I woke, the horror of the team building event set in like the cold rain in the city.
To be continued.
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