The line in front of the US Airways counter was not that long, and so we took our place. However, for the next 15 minutes, it did not move. After an hour, we realized that (as Grendel would say) Something was Very Wrong. Two hours later (really!), we got up to the desk. Our flight to Vegas had been delayed by over an hour, and so virtually everyone who was in front of us had missed their connecting flights and had to be re-routed, as did we. And because it's the Christmas travel season, there were major problems finding flights that were not full. After another half hour (I am totally accurate here, I want you to know; it's part of the excruciating boredom I promised) we had our new flight plans: we would return for a 6:30 am flight on American Airlines to Dallas/FW, and from Dallas to Philly, arriving there only 9 hours later than our expected arrival time.
They gave us a hotel voucher so that we could get our 3.5 hours of sleep before we had to be back at 4:30 am. I suppose we could have tried to go home, but we were dropped off so we didn't have a car, and we didn't even have a house key. So we trudged with our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) to the Holiday Inn a half-block away. We caught the bar ten minutes before closing and managed to order two beers and two chicken quesadillas before they threw us out. We then hauled the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) up the stairs (what, Fresno hotels have not heard of elevators?) to our room, only to find that the key did not work.
An employee came up to let us in. By the time we had finished eating and were drifting off to sleep, it was about 12 midnight. The nice man on the telephone wake-up call that rang at 3:30 said that today's weather would be sunny and warm. I think it was an old message.
So we schlepped our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) back to the airport and over to the line at the American Airlines counter. We waited in line. Luckily the line was moving pretty quickly, and in only about half an hour we were at the counter. We presented the paperwork that the nice man (Andre)* had given us last night to the equally nice lady (Claudia)* and found out that our confirmed reservation Did Not Exist. After about a half hour of waiting, and several phone conversations with Bob* at the US Airlines counter Claudia was able to get the Magic Numbers that, upon entry into her computer, would allow her to put us on standby for the flight.
* Please note: all names changed to protect the innocent and the incompetent.
Oh, dear...when Claudia tried to punch in the Magic Numbers it appears that they contained too many digits and hence lacked the requisite Magick. Another attempt to get Bob back on the phone. He was having none of it. We stood to the side while Claudia helped the people who actually were going to get on the plane for Dallas FW and tried to straighten things out with Bob over the phone, pleading several times in a plaintive tone for him not to hang up on her.
A total of two hours after we showed up at the AA counter, it became clear to all concerned: Claudia, Liam, me, and the six white German Shepard puppies from (evidently) a puppy mill that were being sent off as Christmas presents to various destinations (and who howled inconsolably in solidarity with us for an hour, nearly driving one of the agents to canicide) that we were going nowhere, except back to US Airways. Claudia apologized profusely, we thanked her profusely, and we trudged back to the US Airways with the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's).
This time there were only three people in front of us, so after only an hour we found ourselves talking to none other than Bob himself. He was of the opinion that there was nothing wrong with the reservations that Andre had made the night before, that somehow the American Airlines people had screwed up, and he also broadly hinted that somehow it must be our fault for waiting at the AA counter for 2.5 hours. All very well and good, but it doesn't get us and our two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's) to Philly.
He typed arcane data into the computer for what seemed like hours (I could feel the stony stares of those waiting in line boring into my back, so I didn't turn around) but was in reality only about 20 minutes, and finally he had our answer:
We could board a flight to Phoenix at 7:15 pm, arrive in Phoenix at 9:52, then board a flight to Chicago at 11 pm, stay there for two-and-a-half hours, then board a flight to Philly, arriving there Saturday at 8:47 am…only 36 hours after we left our house with the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's). And that was it. As compensation for our time, we got meal vouchers and an upgrade to first class on the Phoenix to Chicago leg (that was all that was available in First Class.
So now we sit in the magnificent Fresno-Yosemite International Airport, and since we couldn't check our bags yet, we’re stuck in the Ante-Inferno and have to lug around with us the two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's). So we sprung for a luggage cart. We also sprung for a day of wireless Internet access (unlike real airports, Fresno-Yosemite International Airport charges for wireless) so that I can relate to you the story of our Christmas Advent Odyssey, and as a real treat I have taken pictures of some of the exciting objects that will occupy our time for the next eight hours.
The two Rick Steves Back Door bags, one red overnight bag stuffed with socks, presents, and two giant Bubble Makers for the nephews, two briefcases and one purple coat (Liam's).
My Christmas present from Liam--I might as well wear 'em in the airport--we'll be here a while!
Distinctive Headgear and gloves I never get to wear in Fresno.
The Fresno FishWrap.
My Gingerbread Latte.
What I should be reading instead of blogging.
One of the Bubblemakers for the Nephews
A cool set of children's books for reading aloud to the Nephews.
Bored yet? So are we! Here Liam uses the Purple Coat to take a short nap.By the way, it takes exactly four minute to walk from one end of the airport to the other and back. As Hamlet said, "I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."
So, Padre Mickey, are you still there? Padre?? [ZZZzzzzzzzzzz...]
So, Padre Mickey, are you still there? Padre?? [ZZZzzzzzzzzzz...]
1 comment:
Yeah, I think you win.
A couple of years ago the Lovely Mona and I spent the night in Los Angeles International on our way to Fresno Yosemite Innernasionul. It was one tough night, as I understood at least four of the languages in which the constant announcements were made.
Yeah, I think you win!
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