Flying back to Chicago from New York was supposed to be a simple ride home. A two-hour flight was not a Herculean task. With the airlines now, anything can happen and usually does. Add being stuck on the plane, diverted to another city and some bad flight attendants, it is (or was) enough to almost go crazy.
My confidence in the airline business is eroding.
Soon, the airlines are going to be approaching Congress type approval ratings.
And you thought the oil companies were the most hated industry in America.
Flying the once friendly skies has gone from once enjoyable to downright bad. We are talking the movie “Gigli” bad. Like minus 30 wind chill with eight inches of snow bad. Even as far as 1962 New York Mets bad.
It cannot get much worse anymore.
Monday, my four-plus day weekend “Carl-apalooza” in New York reached the end. Packed up and ready, Delta Airlines (my carrier) called. The message left was that there was a flight time change and departure time now was 5:50. Great! I was in no rush to get home (well, there was that “work” thing the next morning) More time to spend without feeling time constricted.
I got to LaGuardia at 4:30 and checked in. When I got to the gate, people were sitting down and restless awaiting the flight. It appears they did not get the message. Now I know why they ask for a phone number when you order a ticket. This one time it comes in handy.
At 6:05, we boarded and were ready for take off. Problem was, before we could leave, the captain informed us that we were 22nd in line, with one plane taking off every two minutes.
Do the math...two minutes multiplied by 21 planes equal 42 minutes!
How exciting is that?
This before I realized the air conditioning on the plane ranged from “some” to “non-existent”. Everyone had better taken a shower I hoped.
As we were finally in the air and, I figured if the flight lasted less than two hours, I could get home in enough time to watch the last three or four innings of the Yankees game against Texas. My iPod had some podcasts that should last me that should have lasted me the trip.
Later, Delta actually decided to feed us on the flight.
Yes! Airplane gods do exist.
Breakout the champagne.
Stunned by this development, I considered internally doing the “Happy Dance”, but I was sober. Back in the day (see: two years ago), getting a snack was expected on a flight. Now, you are lucky if you do not have to pay for a pillow and blanket.
(SIDE NOTE - This was before I had read this story on what Jet Blue was going to do. Weeks ago, I suggested that airlines do that in this story. Maybe they are reading.)
Airlines have cut costs on everything and raised its rates on everything all at the same time. I am still waiting for that eventual bathroom fee (which I have also suggested the airlines do for those exceeding a one-minute time limit) that should be upon us shortly.
The flight attendant gave me my Sprite and peanuts and I just stared at it. Wait, this was it? What happened to the rest of the can?
It appears they no longer give you a can of soda anymore. You are lucky if you get six ounces, and even that is spotty because they load up on the ice as if you are at the bar on a Saturday. It reminded me of that “Saved by the Bell” episode when the group was at “The Max” and ordered food only to get servings that resembled the toys (designed like food) you would get at McDonalds with the Happy Meal.
30 minutes later, we all heard this announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. We are having some trouble with our coordination into the Chicagoland area. We do not have an estimated clearance time, so we are just going to stay up here for a while until we hear anything.”
A collective groan was heard throughout the plane. Think of those old 1980’s television shows with crowd sound effects (think Silver Spoons). Only this was real.
The flight was now reaching past the three-hour mark. Suddenly, it hit me that their really was no air conditioning on the plane. Looking around, people were using magazines and whatever in order to create circulation for themselves (I thought in grade school it was said that doing that makes you hotter). Pressing the little fan button was doing nothing. That was like giving a fat person one slider from White Castle on an empty stomach and calling that dinner.
After all the delays, the lack of food, stopping and starting, it appeared the next shoe would drop at any moment.
Minutes later, it did:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the captain again speaking. We are getting word that there are severe tornado warnings in the Chicagoland area, and both O’Hare and Midway airports are closing flights leaving in and out. We are going to have to divert our flight to Indianapolis to refuel and hopefully be able to resume our flight. We apologize for this inconvenience and we do appreciate your patience.”
“Are you f----n serious? Tell me this is not a joke,” I said.
Most of us looked at each other in disbelief. If someone had uttered, “Let’s riot”, about 90 percent of the plane would have acquiesced.
“Flight from Hell” had now taken a new twist. No word was given as to how long we would be there as we landed in Indianapolis. Last thing I wanted was to consider spending the night. Sleeping in those old kindergarten style cots with a generic pillow and a blanket for a five year old was not going to do it for me.
Luckily, the flight crew allowed us off the plane to get some fresh air, which in the plane was reaching Beijing, China levels. Being a moron, I had not eaten any sustainable food during the day. The first thing in my crosshairs was finding food that I could hold down.
The closest thing Indianapolis’ airport could offer was a Pepsi and ice cream machine, a far cry from the McDonalds and Subway I was hoping. A chocolate éclair was not going to do it for me. Even the bar was closed along with the little shop where you can buy candy. It was only 10 PM! Looks like the city shuts down and if you are looking for anything, you are screwed. No wonder I have yet to visit that town.
The wait lasted nearly an hour. In that time, I decided to listen to the Yankees game on my phone (MLB Gameday Audio for Sprint is the greatest invention ever!) and turn the sound up so a group of us that were sitting close could hear. As we were waiting for an announcement on when the weather was good enough for us to leave, I hear John Sterling (voice of the Yankees) say that pitcher Joba Chamberlain is pointing to his shoulder and needs the medical staff to come out. Seconds later, he is exiting the game.
How much worse can this night get?
I may not get home tonight and the Yankees season is now set to have a funeral procession. Is this some cruel joke being played on me? The old saying goes “karma is a bitch”. Perhaps I have been an asshole with some people lately and it is coming back to roost.
Bored as hell, I decided to venture off from the gate and paid for six holes of Golden Tee. Thank goodness, one of the passengers alerted me that they were re-boarding for the flight while I was at the fifth hole to get back in line. Had it played out, I would have been able to play all the golf in the world because my ass would be at the Indianapolis airport indefinitely.
Frustrated as we sat back in our seats, the male flight attendant, who really looked like he was about 12 years old, went back and forth instructing us to turn off our electronic devices. He had been pushing the bounds of customer service all night. Reaching his boiling point, he came to the microphone and uttered the following:
“I don’t know how many times I have to instruct you all to turn off all of your portable electronic devices….
We can stay here all night if we have to. I have the time.”
Whoa!
Homeboy was not really looking for a fight was he? Here we all are, angered that the flight has lasted nearly six hours, and now we are going to be instructed by boy wonder (who looked to be tipping the scales at about 150 pounds dripping wet), who wanted to play the role of teacher and us as grade school kids? The hot girl sitting in the same row to our right said she was three seconds away from choking the guy out. I would have made her a slight favorite in the sportsbook if she decided to throw down with him.
The Yankees were trailing 5-4 in the eighth inning as the flight was preparing for takeoff. I snuck the headphone back into my ear to listen to the inning. To hell with air traffic safety for the next few minutes. Just as the plane is making its way to the runway, Xavier Nady had just hit a homerun to tie the game. When I told the others, a loud cheer took place. No one else had any clue as to what the hell was going on.
Just past midnight central time, the flight arrived at Midway. It was finally over. Most people, already upset by the experience we had went through (in addition to the poor service the attendants provided), did not even acknowledge them on the way out. It was like those “Date from Hell” episodes of ‘Blind Date” where the guy and girl will not even shake hands or hug. Rather, they just say, “Let me get the hell out of here” to themselves.
We all could not get out of there fast enough. On the walk to baggage claim, I saw those kindergarten cots with the blanket and pillow and some people sleeping in them (to think, I had thought of this possibility just an hour ago). It could have been worse I guess.
For eight hours, I had been through the worst. All I could do is hope that I never experience this again.
The way the airlines are going, the next one is not that far away.
My confidence in the airline business is eroding.
Soon, the airlines are going to be approaching Congress type approval ratings.
And you thought the oil companies were the most hated industry in America.
Flying the once friendly skies has gone from once enjoyable to downright bad. We are talking the movie “Gigli” bad. Like minus 30 wind chill with eight inches of snow bad. Even as far as 1962 New York Mets bad.
It cannot get much worse anymore.
Monday, my four-plus day weekend “Carl-apalooza” in New York reached the end. Packed up and ready, Delta Airlines (my carrier) called. The message left was that there was a flight time change and departure time now was 5:50. Great! I was in no rush to get home (well, there was that “work” thing the next morning) More time to spend without feeling time constricted.
I got to LaGuardia at 4:30 and checked in. When I got to the gate, people were sitting down and restless awaiting the flight. It appears they did not get the message. Now I know why they ask for a phone number when you order a ticket. This one time it comes in handy.
At 6:05, we boarded and were ready for take off. Problem was, before we could leave, the captain informed us that we were 22nd in line, with one plane taking off every two minutes.
Do the math...two minutes multiplied by 21 planes equal 42 minutes!
How exciting is that?
This before I realized the air conditioning on the plane ranged from “some” to “non-existent”. Everyone had better taken a shower I hoped.
As we were finally in the air and, I figured if the flight lasted less than two hours, I could get home in enough time to watch the last three or four innings of the Yankees game against Texas. My iPod had some podcasts that should last me that should have lasted me the trip.
Later, Delta actually decided to feed us on the flight.
Yes! Airplane gods do exist.
Breakout the champagne.
Stunned by this development, I considered internally doing the “Happy Dance”, but I was sober. Back in the day (see: two years ago), getting a snack was expected on a flight. Now, you are lucky if you do not have to pay for a pillow and blanket.
(SIDE NOTE - This was before I had read this story on what Jet Blue was going to do. Weeks ago, I suggested that airlines do that in this story. Maybe they are reading.)
Airlines have cut costs on everything and raised its rates on everything all at the same time. I am still waiting for that eventual bathroom fee (which I have also suggested the airlines do for those exceeding a one-minute time limit) that should be upon us shortly.
The flight attendant gave me my Sprite and peanuts and I just stared at it. Wait, this was it? What happened to the rest of the can?
It appears they no longer give you a can of soda anymore. You are lucky if you get six ounces, and even that is spotty because they load up on the ice as if you are at the bar on a Saturday. It reminded me of that “Saved by the Bell” episode when the group was at “The Max” and ordered food only to get servings that resembled the toys (designed like food) you would get at McDonalds with the Happy Meal.
30 minutes later, we all heard this announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. We are having some trouble with our coordination into the Chicagoland area. We do not have an estimated clearance time, so we are just going to stay up here for a while until we hear anything.”
A collective groan was heard throughout the plane. Think of those old 1980’s television shows with crowd sound effects (think Silver Spoons). Only this was real.
The flight was now reaching past the three-hour mark. Suddenly, it hit me that their really was no air conditioning on the plane. Looking around, people were using magazines and whatever in order to create circulation for themselves (I thought in grade school it was said that doing that makes you hotter). Pressing the little fan button was doing nothing. That was like giving a fat person one slider from White Castle on an empty stomach and calling that dinner.
After all the delays, the lack of food, stopping and starting, it appeared the next shoe would drop at any moment.
Minutes later, it did:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the captain again speaking. We are getting word that there are severe tornado warnings in the Chicagoland area, and both O’Hare and Midway airports are closing flights leaving in and out. We are going to have to divert our flight to Indianapolis to refuel and hopefully be able to resume our flight. We apologize for this inconvenience and we do appreciate your patience.”
“Are you f----n serious? Tell me this is not a joke,” I said.
Most of us looked at each other in disbelief. If someone had uttered, “Let’s riot”, about 90 percent of the plane would have acquiesced.
“Flight from Hell” had now taken a new twist. No word was given as to how long we would be there as we landed in Indianapolis. Last thing I wanted was to consider spending the night. Sleeping in those old kindergarten style cots with a generic pillow and a blanket for a five year old was not going to do it for me.
Luckily, the flight crew allowed us off the plane to get some fresh air, which in the plane was reaching Beijing, China levels. Being a moron, I had not eaten any sustainable food during the day. The first thing in my crosshairs was finding food that I could hold down.
The closest thing Indianapolis’ airport could offer was a Pepsi and ice cream machine, a far cry from the McDonalds and Subway I was hoping. A chocolate éclair was not going to do it for me. Even the bar was closed along with the little shop where you can buy candy. It was only 10 PM! Looks like the city shuts down and if you are looking for anything, you are screwed. No wonder I have yet to visit that town.
The wait lasted nearly an hour. In that time, I decided to listen to the Yankees game on my phone (MLB Gameday Audio for Sprint is the greatest invention ever!) and turn the sound up so a group of us that were sitting close could hear. As we were waiting for an announcement on when the weather was good enough for us to leave, I hear John Sterling (voice of the Yankees) say that pitcher Joba Chamberlain is pointing to his shoulder and needs the medical staff to come out. Seconds later, he is exiting the game.
How much worse can this night get?
I may not get home tonight and the Yankees season is now set to have a funeral procession. Is this some cruel joke being played on me? The old saying goes “karma is a bitch”. Perhaps I have been an asshole with some people lately and it is coming back to roost.
Bored as hell, I decided to venture off from the gate and paid for six holes of Golden Tee. Thank goodness, one of the passengers alerted me that they were re-boarding for the flight while I was at the fifth hole to get back in line. Had it played out, I would have been able to play all the golf in the world because my ass would be at the Indianapolis airport indefinitely.
Frustrated as we sat back in our seats, the male flight attendant, who really looked like he was about 12 years old, went back and forth instructing us to turn off our electronic devices. He had been pushing the bounds of customer service all night. Reaching his boiling point, he came to the microphone and uttered the following:
“I don’t know how many times I have to instruct you all to turn off all of your portable electronic devices….
We can stay here all night if we have to. I have the time.”
Whoa!
Homeboy was not really looking for a fight was he? Here we all are, angered that the flight has lasted nearly six hours, and now we are going to be instructed by boy wonder (who looked to be tipping the scales at about 150 pounds dripping wet), who wanted to play the role of teacher and us as grade school kids? The hot girl sitting in the same row to our right said she was three seconds away from choking the guy out. I would have made her a slight favorite in the sportsbook if she decided to throw down with him.
The Yankees were trailing 5-4 in the eighth inning as the flight was preparing for takeoff. I snuck the headphone back into my ear to listen to the inning. To hell with air traffic safety for the next few minutes. Just as the plane is making its way to the runway, Xavier Nady had just hit a homerun to tie the game. When I told the others, a loud cheer took place. No one else had any clue as to what the hell was going on.
Just past midnight central time, the flight arrived at Midway. It was finally over. Most people, already upset by the experience we had went through (in addition to the poor service the attendants provided), did not even acknowledge them on the way out. It was like those “Date from Hell” episodes of ‘Blind Date” where the guy and girl will not even shake hands or hug. Rather, they just say, “Let me get the hell out of here” to themselves.
We all could not get out of there fast enough. On the walk to baggage claim, I saw those kindergarten cots with the blanket and pillow and some people sleeping in them (to think, I had thought of this possibility just an hour ago). It could have been worse I guess.
For eight hours, I had been through the worst. All I could do is hope that I never experience this again.
The way the airlines are going, the next one is not that far away.
1 comment:
Mr. Martinez,
I enjoyed your story. I couldn't find your email address. Could you please email me?
Gregg
contact@flightsfromhell.com
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