Act 2
This is the moment I lost it completely, and this is the moment I explain to you why.
I am not a comedian trying to get to a gig, and this FUBAR is costing me money. I am not a CEA desperate to get to a meeting, and this FUBAR is costing me my company's future. I am not a Starbucks employee who is going to miss my shift. I am not a parent holding a child who is exhausted. It didn't matter, this woman was not interested, kind or in any way compassionate to anyone. All were met with the same blank stare, the same cold voice and the complete lack of compassion. There was no apology, not even a twinge of human concern or acknowledgment that this sucks. Nothing. NADA.
That's why I lost it. It was not my own anxiety, it was the complete lack of compassion coming off of someone who is supposed to help. Nobody mattered. Just coming out of Covid, when we spent so much time caring about other people's health, wearing masks, teaching and learning from home and now, we're allowed to finally fly and visit family, and we are confronted with the attitude that we'd all forgotten: You Don't Matter.
I could no longer see, I called my mom (yes, I am 55 and I called my mom, so what?) Completely hysterical. Her response, in a nutshell: "What the hell is wrong with you, pull it together, this is not OK." She wasn't wrong, she just misfired. It wasn't about me or my anxiety it was the realization that nothing has changed. However, I cannot control other people so the only thing do so was march over to the Frontier desk where a similarly disengaged clerk was clearly shutting down for the night, had a kind moment and took me through a secret security door to see if I could get a Frontier flight earlier than 12:45 on Wednesday. I met a security guard who would not let me go back the way I came, but instead walked me around security and the other concourse, patiently using a low voice and non combative words. I told him that Southwest was not offering vouchers, I was stuck in the airport with my husband ( who I had abandoned back at the gate trying to get the internet to work on his phone, with no luck, while I hysterically lurched my ample Covid weight induced frame around the concourse) and I just want to go home. He was shocked to hear that SW was not doing vouchers, and knew peripherally that something had gone haywire based on the amount of traffic stuck at the airport. He walked me back to Jim, and then walked both of us to the exit as Jim said "I found a hotel. It has a bar. Let's just go." The Security Supervisor's name was Robert Whittlock, and he was born in Des Moines, Iowa and he was my new best friend.
We then waited for 45 minutes for a shuttle that was supposed to take 15 minutes, with our friends who had driven to Lake Michigan. She's a provost at UNC, her kids both went to UNC and they were at the hotel across from us, also not able to get a shuttle because they were on the international side of the airport, and clearly we had some time to talk. They finally got frustrated and got an Uber. We said "See you tomorrow," as they were booked on the same 12:45 flight. Spoiler alert, we did not see them tomorrow. I hope they made it home.
We shuttled to the Sheraton SOMETHING ( suites, maybe?) at O'Hare, and immediately started chatting up our fellow travelers. One young man told us he'd been booked out of Miami, but the storm (there was a storm in Florida as well on Tuesday, I may not have mentioned that) derailed his American Airlines flight, and he's stuck here tonight. American Airlines gave him a hotel voucher. Of Course They Did. I told him SW offered nothing, and their issue is THEIR FAULT and we decided only Acts of God get vouchers, not Acts of Men. He was a large man of color with a booming voice, it was a joy to hear his expletives and laugh projected throughout the lobby. He did not think SW is a good airline, and believed that we should sue. We made him feel better about his situation. He was my second new best friend.
Alex, working the front desk ( I looked it up, also making approximately $15 an hour, same as the customer service reps at SW) kindly located our reservation, gave us a lower rate all with a sympathetic air. I asked if there was a place we could get a toothbrush, as our luggage was God Knows Where, and she dove into a treasure trove under the desk, producing hermetically sealed two toothbrushes, two toothpastes, two combs and two anti perspirants. Best Friend #3.
We didn't even go to the room, we went straight to the bar, as it was 10 pm on a Tuesday and we were pretty sure they would close soon. Many other travelers came through, looking like us but with children, seeking food. Mario the bartender directed them to various options, pointing out that the Mc Donald's by the hotel was only drive through and would not take walk ups, for which he apologized. It's not his fault, but he apologized. When Jim asked him what time the bar closed, he said "When you are drunk and ready to go to bed." Best Friend #4.
I got settled down after about six beers, and we agreed not to talk about what to do if the flight is cancelled tomorrow, for the sake of our marriage. We had not fought or even exchanged harsh words. Nobody blamed the other for anything. We had no idea we were like that, and after watching the meltdowns in the airport, I'd say we are lucky to have one another.
I got up at 8 am and checked the SW flights. I put on the local news, who cheerfully informed me that Southwest had been having some technical difficulties, and many flights had been cancelled, but they were back and everything was moving forward. They then ran an interview with a woman from Chicago who was stuck at O'Hare when her flight was cancelled, but she was very cheerful and just happy to have the opportunity to fly after Covid.
I hated her. She did not make the Best Friend List.
The SW flights to Denver were being delayed and then cancelled starting at 6 am. I woke up Jim and said "Get a credit card, find a way, we're leaving by another airline." And We Did. Because American Airlines was functioning, we got two of the last four seats. We weren't the only ones bailing on SW, who would not offer vouchers and will not refund the unused ticket because we wouldn't wait another eight hours in the airport. The 12:45 flight was delayed until 1:45, but I believe they got out. Jim said "I was happy to pay anything to not sit at a gate and wait to see if the flight was going to be cancelled."
When we arrived at DIA, I literally kissed the ground. We had to sit separately, so I was waiting for Jim when he exited. He came through the jetway like Rocky Balboa, fists in the air and a huge smile on his face. It was awesome.
The next task was to locate our luggage. Turns out that wasn't hard, as more than 1,000 bags had made it to DIA ahead of their owners. Yes, I wonder about that as well. Get me a government grant and I will investigate. The bags were all roped off into two sections, and ours was easily visible. The overwhelmed woman tasked with babysitting the bags actually recognized our name from receiving the bag, and was all smiles and patience. I thanked her for being such a kind person, and she just shrugged "None of this is my fault, I'm sorry it happened, but being rude isn't going to help any body."
So, in conclusion, all in all, to sum up: I learned a lot about myself and my marriage, both of which are pretty awesome. In my world, this is a true tragedy and I learned from it.
Things To Remember About Traveling Cause It's Been A year:
* Do not fly Southwest.
*If you're going to fly this summer of 21, have at least a grand in your debit account or on a credit card, do not plan on anything going the way you expect it to, and remember drinking counts as self medicating.
* Do not travel with children.
END
*I included the pay rates for this reason: when things started to get jammed up, I overheard a voice suggest that if you paid these people more, they would care more. I immediately looked up the pay rate for Chik Fil A employees. They make between eight and fourteen dollars an hour. In my mind, that ended that thesis. You are compassionate and kind, or you aren't. The next point in the essay I was writing in my head, is that there are billionaires who do not care, so your thesis does not hold water.
No comments:
Post a Comment