Is this Any Way to Run an Airline?

or

How I spent New Year’s Eve with Tom Bodet at Motel 6

I seem to have an affinity for finding Terrorist Organizations to hold me hostage.

          I think that my definition of a Terrorist Origination would be apropos here. In my mind, that Organization has a power that they wield indiscriminately and without any caring. You are at their mercy, and powerless to do anything about your situation as an individual. They may strike at any time. Usually, with an outcome that is less than desirable, and for which, there is never an apology, for in their eyes, they have done nothing wrong.

          The first, and most obvious one, is the NJDOT, with whom I had the displeasure of dealing with when we sold the Chatterbox.

          My latest hostage crisis commenced the day after Christmas at the airport in Houston. I was innocently waiting there to board an aircraft that would take me to Denver where there would be an hour plus layover before the next leg of my journey that would hopefully end in Durango. I say hopefully because there was one time, a few years ago that, had I not informed the Flight Attendant that we were going the wrong way, we would have landed in Grand Junction, Colorado instead of Durango.

           How could this be, you may ask?

          The answer is simple, but scary.

          I was sitting at the gate where there was one of the flight crew waiting also. Another member of a different crew showed up and I was able to overhear their conversation. It seems that here was to be a change in their assignments, namely, Grand Junction and Durango.

          Don’t know why and don’t really care except that someone forgot to tell somebody about something.

          Sounds confusing?

          Hey, I’m just the guy sitting and listening. Mind you, I have no idea at this point that what I’ve overheard will have any bearing on my situation. We board the aircraft, a smaller regional jet because the flight takes only 45 minutes from wheels-up to landing. I always get a window seat on the right-hand side of the aircraft because that offers the best view  flying southbound from Denver to Durango. There are nice valleys, the Flatiron Range is pretty to see behind Denver and then  the peaks of the San Juan’s  come into view. We took off and started to fly due west. I know this because we were immediately over the mountains, none of the usual scenery unfolded below me. Maybe they are going different route and will turn southward soon, I said to myself.      

Nope.

          Westward we fly.

           I now recall the conversation about the crew swap that I overheard at the gate. These guys think they’re going to Grand Junction! That is the only logical explanation.  By now I’m getting agitated because I can just picture the scenario in Grand Junction:

          “Good afternoon Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a slight mix-up and we are now in Grand Junction instead of Durango. Unfortunately, we cannot take off and deliver you to Durango, because this aircraft needs to be delivered back to Denver for its next leg. The airline will be happy to arrange whatever alternative transportation you would like for you to get to your final destination of Durango. Thanks for flying the Friendly Skies and we apologize for any inconvenience”.

          That is what I was afraid of hearing as I watched the unfamiliar landscape unfurl below as we flew further and further westward over the Rockies.  I said to my seatmate, “We’re going the wrong way.” He just kind of looked at me as I tried to explain what I thought was happening. He was mildly interested or amused; I can’t tell which.

          I finally couldn’t hold it in  anymore and signaled for the Flight Attendant. I told her we were going the wrong way. Her look was a tad on the incredulous side as you may imagine. I explained about the conversation that I had overheard at the gate. She looked at me with a “What do you want me to do about it,” look on her face.

          I asked her just to please, check with the Flight Deck and confirm that we are indeed in route to Durango, not Grand Junction. She breathed that “Ok, just to humor you” sigh, and walked to the front and picked up the phone that communicates with the cockpit. I saw her glance back at me as she spoke intro the receiver and they had a back-and-forth conversation for a few minutes. About 30 seconds after she hung up, we banked and turned 90 degrees to the left and headed southward. I know the geography over that way from driving that part of the state. I watched Telluride slide beneath us as the course correction was made . We came into Durango over a half hour late and our approach was from the West.

          I don’t know.

          Somebody has to pay attention to what is going on!

In the immortal words of that sports guy on TV, “You make the call.”

          Anyway, as you can tell, my confidence has been severely eroded.          As I stood there waiting for my first leg that would get me to Denver, the Gate Attendant got on the PA and announced, “Good Morning. Flight ### to Denver will be delayed for a few minutes as we are awaiting the arrival of one of the Flight Attendants. We are not permitted to start the boarding process until the full complement of crew is aboard. We apologize for the delay, and we should start the process soon.”

          As you can imagine, the collective groan from the Gate was definitely audible. The first thing that goes through your mind, at this time, is my ‘connection’. That dirty word that gives us all a reason for Xanax.

          We all wait patiently.

           No that is a lie.

          We all waited impatiently for the next announcement. In the meantime, I receive an auto-text from United. ‘Hi! We’re excited to have you on board with us today. Unfortunately, there will be a slight delay in your boarding time. We will have you on your way shortly. Thanks for choosing United.’

          What a load of crap.

          Now the next announcement from the overly-friendly-not-really-sincere-because-my-shift-is over-soon gate attendant “Good morning, Unfortunately, we have not yet located replacement for the crew member. We anticipate that there will be at least another half-hour delay. We apologize sincerely for any yada-yada-yada…..”

          Then another text message from Miss Auto-United-Text-Maker.

          This post is already too long and there is still a way to go so I’m going to ‘cut to the chase’ Two and a half hours later, they finally scrape up, twist as many arms as needed, or threatened other crew members from arriving flights to work this one. It turns out that, in the beginning, there were zero flight attendants for this flight on board.

          By now, I’ve taken my Xanax because I’ve definitely missed my connection to Durango. So now there is no way that I’m going to trust anyone to re-book me. They’d probably send me to Grand Junction. I got on my phone, located the next flight out of Denver to Durango and booked it. I would worry about the refund for my original flight later. I just wanted a seat!

          We finally board our aircraft, usual process, and are now waiting to push back from the gate. Mind you, this plane has been sitting there for two plus hours and everyone on the ground crew knows that it is late.

          Here it comes: “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, it seems that Murphy is working against us today. Someone on the ground crew reassigned the tug that would normally have pushed us back to another flight. It shouldn’t be long, maybe ten minutes or so and then we’ll have you on your way. Thanks for your patience and understanding. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

          You can’t make this stuff up.

          I looked at my watch and tried to do the math with a one-hour time difference. It’s going to be close. We landed in Denver and with Covid making disembarking a different process, my turn has to wait. I finally get onto the concourse and start the jog to my next gate which, of course, is at the absolute last, ‘end of the world’ gate.

           It always is.

          I flag down one of those jitney drivers and implore him to ‘step on it’ as I regale him with my tale of woes. His reply was re-assuring, and he was possibly the only person that I encountered that day with any sense of urgency.

          “Don’t you worry Sir; I won’t even stop for anyone else. This is a direct non-stop flight to your gate!” Horn beeping, old ladies and their walkers jettisoned, and passengers being run over, we zoomed through the crowds in a way that would have made Moses proud as he parted the Red Sea. Screeching to halt in front of my gate I hear, “Durango! Durango! Hey, you goin’ to Durango?  I tried my best to get the boarding pass up on my phone as the groundcrew guy waited (?) to push me forward. As soon as I boarded, he closed the door and saluted the crew.

          I was aboard.

          Thankfully, the days spent with my daughter Lorelyn, and her husband, Travis were really nice. It was a great visit, I helped with some projects and was able to get an ‘Ancestral Puebloan’s’  expedition in. There will be photos in a subsequent post.

          Five days later I am back at Durango Airport to get my next flight to Denver. The day is cold and crisp, not a cloud in the sky, perfect for flying. We are the first flight of the day and fortunately , we don’t have to wait for an aircraft to arrive to get us. The last flight from the previous night is still there, waiting patiently for us.

          With frosty wings.

          I looked out at it basking there in the morning sunlight and said to myself, “We are going to have to be de-iced.” A fairly normal procedure.

          We boarded without any issues and waited.

          You know what’s coming next.

          “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, there will be slight delay as we get de-iced. It should only take about ten minutes or so and then we’ll be on our way. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

          Now I’m not worried much, yet. I have 90 minutes between flights, so I should be ok. Now mind you, no one flies from Durango to Denver for fun, they all need to make … here it comes…. ‘a connection’.

          As we watched the de-icing guy do his thing, I wondered why the delay. I knew it need to be de-iced, why wasn’t the crew ready to do this process sooner? Who knows?

          When the de-icing was complete, we just sat there.

           Ok, now what’s wrong?

          We sit there a while longer.

          Now the Captain gets on the PA, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we seem to have a small mechanical malfunction in the starter motor for one of the engines. We’re going to cycle through the start-up sequence again and see if that fix’s it. If not, we will need to call on of our on-call contactors or fly someone in on the next flight from Denver to fix it.”

          Ok, that’s it, I’m done.

          The passengers started talking amongst ourselves, and the lady across from me asked, “If I was going to drive to Denver” I guess hoping to get a few of us together and carpool. I replied, “No mam, I’m going to rent a f##king car and drive to Houston.” She just nodded.

          The flight attendant, sensing that a riot was about to break out, tried her best to keep cool. She looked at me and I said to her. “Just get me off of this plane.” There was not a smile or anything like it in my voice. She gulped and nodded also.

          Inside I went to the Gate Attendant and said, “Cancel my flight and give me a refund.”
 Five minutes later I was at the Enterprise Rental Counter.

“Good Morning Sir, how are you today?”

          “I was fine until United screwed me for the last time. Do you have any Maserati’s or Lamborghini’s to rent? He laughed, “All I have is a Nissan Versa”

          “I’ll take it.”

          I got into my new best friend, Miss Versa, and went back to my daughters’ where she set me up with snacks and supplies for the two-day drive back to Texas. If you have only lived on the East Coast and driven around there, you have no concept of how gigantic some of our Western States are.  To drive across Texas is a two-day affair, its 1000 miles from East to West. This particular trip was 16 hours of driving.

          I started out at around 11 AM and drove down into New Mexico, finally on my way back home. The drive southward was just incredible, see photos attached.

There was a time that I drove for 75 miles with no one in front of me or behind me. I took this opportunity to play ‘Slot-Car Driver’ and stay in the exact middle of the road, leaving plenty of room on either side for unanticipated course-corrections. There are no lights, and it is REALLY  dark!

          I finished the day in Roswell, home of the infamous UFO sighting in 1947, at around 7 PM New Year’s Eve. Tom Bodet was at Motel 6 waiting for me, yes, with the light on.

          I awoke at 3 AM and was back on the road by 3:15, obviously with the road all to myself. I hit Interstate 10 in Texas at 8 AM, sailing along at 80 MPH, which by the way, is the speed limit. The weather was just gorgeous, not a cloud in the sky and a brisk 14 degrees. But apparently a swift-moving system brought about 10 inches of beautiful white fluffy stuff down the night before, please note how nice it was in the photo.

          The only downside is that they are not really skilled at clearing the roads from inclement weather down there.

          Screeching to halt about 20 miles onto the highway, I could sense that this was not a good scenario.

          I was correct.

          You know, when you sit on a highway, not moving, you notice lots of things, like the poor lady in front of me that probably had way too many cups of coffee that morning and never intended to spend that much time without a bathroom. Yup, she needed one three times! Her husband would judiciously open both driver-side doors and stand guard as she went in between them. Or the truck driver who decided to clean out his rig while hanging out of it. He was not the only thing hanging out, check the accompanying photo. I couldn’t resist.

          After sitting in the exact same spot for 3 plus hours, we finally started moving. Up ahead, the carnage on the road was still evident. 18-wheelers all askew, one car upside down, and numerous other vehicles just parked and left there.

          But it was still a beautiful day!

          Needless to say, a three-hour delay never turns into 3 hours on the other end. For some reason it always seems to work like high school math and at least square itself. I finally rolled into Brenham a little after 8 PM.

           I was scheduled to arrive in the early afternoon.

          It kind of reminded me of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

          I’m not sure if I was Steve Martin or John Candy.