No Place Like Home for the Holidays

I've never flown during the holidays before. I now understand why no one ever wants to. Allow me to present to you "Dude, Where's My Plane: A Christmas Special." Brought to you by flight delays.

Tuesday, December 22nd

6:05am- Wake up dramatically from a dream involving essay grades and a chicken. Proceed to try unsuccessfully to fall asleep for three hours.

10:15am- Stumble to the elevator with the flat trash and a duffle bag. 

10:18am- Toss the trash into the dumpster and begin to get drenched by the rain on the walk to the airport bus.

11:10am- Arrive at Edinburgh International Airport. I’ve flown out of here before, but it was years ago and I’m convincing myself they’ve remodeled because the only thing that looks familiar is the international arrivals area that I waltzed into three months ago. I check in, I drop off my duffle bag, I go through security, and I find a place to wait for my flight to be assigned to a gate. Luckily, all I’ve got to carry around is my purse, which is no more packed than it would be on your average school day, so I’m pretty mobile.

1:53pm- My flight was supposed to leave at 2pm. Still haven’t been assigned a gate. Amuse myself by listening to the conversations around me and tweeting about them.

2:50pm- On the plane, really feeling the lack of sleep last night. The British girl beside me clearly has a cold and the poor dear orders tea the same time I order coffee. I pass her her tea and we cheers before going back to our own little worlds.

4:15pm- We land in London and I power walk to the connections board. Chicago isn’t listed, but there’s a sign that says that flights to the US are operated by AA and are at Terminal 3. I’m at Terminal 5. I walk very quickly to the terminal bus.

4:18pm- The bus driver waits for a group of 20 who arrived as the bus was supposed to leave to board. I’m counting the minutes between terminals. As long as the gate number is listed when I get to Terminal 3, I can still make it.

4:32pm- I follow the signs to the American Airlines desk, which is disconcertingly empty. I tell the man behind the desk that I’m looking for a connecting flight to Chicago and my heart drops when he shakes his head. Since it was a delay on a British Airways flight that caused the problem, he sends me to their counter. I do my best to keep all the crying on the inside.

5:04pm- After going through security again and waiting in line at the BA counter, I’m handed a new ticket for tomorrow morning, a set of vouchers for a hotel stay and shuttle services, and a toiletries bag. I ask how much I missed the flight by. The guy checks and winces at the screen. “No chance,” he says. “Even if you ran.”

Well, at least it’s not my fault. I take my purse (so "lucky" that I'm traveling light) and find my way out.

5:25pm- I text my mother from the airport exit, telling her what’s going on. I would have done that earlier, but I assumed that I could just pop through immigration. I was wrong. I get on the shuttle to the hotel and realize with a start that the bus door is on the opposite side of what I was expecting. All airports look like America to me. I had forgotten where I was.

6:15pm- Hello, my name is Addie Jo and it’s been 159 days since my last hotel stay. Thought maybe I’d make it a year, but apparently the fates had something else in mind. The routine formed by three years of traveling for work kicks in- I set my purse on the tile of the bathroom floor, check the mattress, drawers, and corners of the room for bedbugs, kick off my boots and fall backwards onto my bed. My glorious, free, king-sized bed. It’s funny- if it weren’t for the picture of Big Ben on the wall, I might think I was back in middle of nowhere North Carolina. My plans for the evening are about the same. I close my eyes for a few minutes. 

7:05pm- The airline comped me dinner, so I go to the hotel restaurant. I hand over my voucher and the hostess asks if we’re all sitting together. I walked in alone, so I turn around and find that there’s a group of twelve attractive British twenty-something males, every one of whom gives me the once-over as I smile and wave and tell the hostess that it’s just me. We all have a good-natured chuckle over it and I resist the urge to pump a fist in the air. 

7:11pm- I HAVE NEVER EATEN SO MUCH IN MY LIFE. I’ve been living off of ramen and left-overs for the past two weeks and this hotel buffet is exactly what I needed in my world right now. 

7:20pm- Oh my everything, this chocolate pie. I could die happy right now.

7:45pm- I would like to take this opportunity to thank British Airways for this toiletry bag. I take a longer shower than is necessary, using the razor and shaving cream to properly shave my legs since this is the most room I’ve had in months. There’s apparently one multi-purpose wash that’s supposed to work as shampoo, conditioner, and body wash and no washcloth in the hotel, but whatever man. We’re making this free stuff work. There’s even a t-shirt in the pack, so I can let my sweatshirt finally dry out from the rain that morning. 

9:30pm- I set my alarm for the next morning and settle in to bed. Dammit, Britain, ya skimped on the pillow top. This might be a princess and the pea situation, but I know a mid-priced hotel bed when I sleep in one and my friends, this is slightly substandard. 

Wednesday, December 23rd

5:58am- My alarm goes off. I left it charging across the room so I actually have to get out of bed.

5:59am- I go back to bed.

6:28am- I groggily get out of bed, “pack” (put my laptop and phone back in my purse), and “get ready” (put my jeans and shoes back on). 

6:33am- I hand over my key in the hotel lobby. Thanks for the free night, Park Inn by Radisson! 

7:01am- After getting my actual boarding pass, going through security again, and walking through the absurdly brightly lit stores at the airport, I sit down at the designated seating area and wonder if napping for two hours is worth it.

7:25am- Amazing how comfortable you can get if you just wedge yourself in sideways on these airport benches.

8:25am- My flight is supposed to be assigned a gate.

8:35am- Still hasn’t happened.

8:40am- COME ON, BRITAIN. 

8:52am- THERE IS BOJANGLES WAITING FOR ME. DO NOT STAND BETWEEN ME AND MY BOJANGLES.

9:00am- That’s it. I’m going to die here. They’ll find my body propped up just outside the Pret, covered in left over croissant wrappers. 

9:03am- Gate 1 it is.

10:30am- There's a technical problem with the plane and we can't board until it's fixed. My money's on the phalanges. 

gif source

10:47am- We're delayed until 12:30pm. Cue the general outrage. 

12:24pm- We're all just sitting at the terminal. Somehow I don't think we're taking off in 6 minutes. On the bright side, they did serve us snacks and water! 

Friday, December 25th

Sometime after 12:45am- We boarded the plane around 1pm London time on the 23rd and sat on the plane for hours while they removed luggage for passengers that had rebooked their flights after the delay. At least the booze on the flight was free. When we landed in Charlotte around 6:45pm local time, we sat on the runway for a while waiting for a gate. Then I went through customs and went to go find my checked bag, which was missing. But a friend of mine came and picked me up and I got the call around 4pm on the 24th that my bag would be delivered that evening. And it was. Sometime in the early hours of Christmas morning.

So that's my saga, friend! I was originally supposed to land in Charlotte, bag in hand, around 1am on the 23rd. But I'm home! And that, as my friend said, is a step in the right direction.