Air travel puts my patience to the test

(Warning: this blog is wordy)

Today has been my test of patience. Not the first, and not the last by any means, but a test.

I left the place I have been calling home, referred to by my mother as Pom Pom Texas, at 6:56 in the morning, and embarked on what should have been a 45 minute drive to the airport. My flight time was set for 9:15 am, so my departure seemed to have a generous traffic allowance. This was evidently not so. After struggling through gridlock in the middle of nowhere for an hour, with the expectation of traffic easing at any moment, I had traveled 4 miles. Another hour and a detour later, the car was headed to the airport only about 9 miles closer to the airport than when I first left the house groggy eyed and luggage anxious.

I switched my flight time, a process that included a conversation with a person who swore that from 2:35 pm to 3:05 pm was indeed a span of 40 minutes, and not the measly half hour that I calculated it to be, and then miraculously got switched to a politer and more math savvy employee. Mission accomplished! I had a flight I could board, even if I was $52 poorer.

Once at the gate I learned my flight was delayed, and I was being detoured to another airline to ensure I could reach my connecting flight. So I rushed over to a new gate and a shuttle to another terminal. I made it! I was on a plane to Cincinnati.

Some airports are not designed well at all. Once in Cincinnati, I had to leave the terminal, and once again wait in line for security check in order to board a Delta plane instead of the Continental I had come in on. I was cutting it close, but soon learned the flight was delayed an hour. As it seemed the flight was continually getting delayed, and my day lost in transit, so when a volunteer was needed to be bumped from the flight, I raised my hand, accepted a three hour stay at the airport and a $200 travel voucher.

Another delayed flight later, I had arrived in the vicinity of NYC (if we can even call Newark airport that), but my luggage had not.

So now at 10:30 pm I sit in a shuttle that is theoretically on the way to the village if it ever leaves the airport, sitting here sans luggage. So when I arrive at my shoots in the next few days, and strip down my clothes, and stand there proclaiming this is the only wardrobe I have, I apologize. Then again, this is nothing new, is it?
To sum this up, I have learned a few things today.
Packing less will allow me to use my bag as a carry one, saving money by avoiding checked bag fees and preventing luggage from getting lost.
I much prefer driving to locations, so I can have all my stuff and do not have to deal with airlines.
Some people need to go back to school to learn basic math.
I can be happy despite an excessively long day of air travel induced mishaps.

Hello NYC!

Photo by KMann Photo of Houston.