Amerikai Magyar Hírlap, 2007 (19. évfolyam, 1-50. szám)

2007-03-09 / 11. szám

If On a Winter's Night a Traveler... Gets Stranded in Philadelphia BY SUSAN JANCSO * In Appreciation of Southwest Airlines * Photos by Julius and Susan Jancso In the late 70’s Italo Calvino, the most imaginative Italian writer wrote a book entitled „If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler” It’s a strange book, made up of seemingly random, but actually very elaborate chapters. It’s about a reader who starts to read a book but just when he gets to the most interesting part, the book ends or is misprinted or pages are missing or other confusing events happen. And every time he takes the book back, the replacement copy turns out to be a completely different story. It seemed to be the perfect title to cover our trials and tribu­lations on a recent visit to our grandchildren on the East Coast. I took a little red notebook with me on the trip, as I always do (although the color might differ). But we had such a fantastic trip, there was simply no time to write a diary. I started out quite diligently after the takeoff from LAX. I had been pretty worked up about the nasty Valentine’s Day storm that got thousands of flights cancelled or delayed on the East Coast. But it seemed our flight was nice and smooth all the way. Security was a breeze, I could even take with me my special water and coffee after I explained to the officer that it was needed for a medical condition. (It was worth reading the new security rules before the trip, all eleven pages of them...) I had carefully placed my lipstick and cosmetics in a clear plastic bag as required, and nobody gave me any trouble. I requested special pre-board­ing for Julius - not a wheelchair, God forbid!, just preferred seating in the plane so he can stretch his legs. But there were so few pas­sengers we each had a whole row to ourselves. Just as well, because we had some sleep to catch up on. The plane took off at 7 a.m., we had to get up at 4, and we had only gone to bed at 2 a.m. We made friends with the flight attendants - the blond girl, Jamie sat down next to me to chat. She has been flying for 27 years! (and I thought my 15 was a record...), with Southwest Airlines ever since it started, has 2 boys, 15 and 18, both good students. We talked about educa­tion, Schwarzenegger, aviation (is it still as much fun as I remember it?), some politics, and she looked at my newspaper. She gave us some coloring books and. other goodies for our grandchildren. We flew over the Grand Canyon around 8 a.m:, and I took some great pictures. The last thing I remember is that at 9:45 the Captain announced we were flying over Kansas City. Soon after that I fell asleep, and the next thing I know, four days had gone by in the blink of an eye. The next time I took out my notebook, we were on our way home. Or so we thought. * * * Sunday 4 p.m.. We are sitting at Philadelphia Airport, Gate D-l, waiting for our aircraft to arrive from Providence, Rhode Island. It is snowing like I’ve never seen it snow: huge flakes, thick and white, a heavy Curtain cutting us off from the rest of the world. The old flight attendant spirit kicks in. I am counting the lights on the landing strip, I see ten or so on each side. Not so bad, in my day we have taken off with less. Southwest announces there will be a slight delay, but we’ll depart as soon as our plane comes in. was confident that we were going to make it, but it was not to be. Now it was our turn to get in line at the counter and wait to reschedule. The girls were not finished yet with the previous planeload, but one of them came less of the airline or the price. I heard about a United flight two gates down the corridor, leaving about the same time we were sup­posed to. I walked over to Gate 5, where a huge crowd was waiting to board the aircraft. No, they Susan with 27-yr veteran flight attendant Jamie View of the Grand Canyon under Southwest wings Landing in Philadelphia - view of the Skyline The snow had started as we were sitting in my daughter’s living room, hugging the grand­­kids for one last time before leaving. It started gently, almost invisibly: just a few flakes float­ing in the air, melting as soon as they touched the ground or the top of the little red Chevy Cobra, our rental car. The temperature lingered around the freezing point, making it difficult for a lasting snow cover to form. Our son-in-law assured us it was nothing, we should not have any trouble getting home. But I wor­ried. I stood by the window mes­merized by the view, and could not take my eyes off the ever thicker curtain of falling snow. We had planned to get started three hours before takeoff time, but in the end even the children admitted we might be better off leaving right away. So we hugged and kissed and got into the car and drove away. The half-hour drive to Philadelphia was uneventful. Julius was driv­ing, and I wasn’t even grabbing the dashboard every time we got around with some surprising news for the people in line. The airline was NOT PUTTING US UP IN A HOTEL for the night, we had to find our own way - and pay it! Also, we had to go pick up our checked in luggage and drag it to town with us. Tomor­row we would have to go through the whole check-in and security process all over again. I got upset because Julius cannot carry heavy loads, and it was snowing outside! All I wanted to do was curl up in a warm place and sleep until this ordeal is over. Luckily for us, another girl came by and handed us a pink slip that contained the number to call for the arrangements. I called immediately on my cell phone, but all I got was a message promising to call us back. Nobody called for the following half hour, so I made another attempt to reach them. This time the message said: “Mailbox Full! Goodbye!” I was just about to scream when our guardian angel appeared. Her name was Linda L., and she was a Southwest Customer Service too close to the vehicle before us. The windshield wipers were run­ning full speed, there was some­thing coming down, whether snow or sleet, we could not tell. As we got closer to Philadelphia, it stopped and even the sun came out just before sinking on the western horizon, giving the clouds before us a bright silver lining. I was real thankful when we finally dropped off the car at the rental agency. * * * That’s as far as I got with my notebook when Southwest announced that our flight was cancelled for the night. It was about 6 p.m., our scheduled departure time. Other flights had been cancelled before us, I remember feeling sorry for the passengers when they had to line up at the ticket counter to be rescheduled, and got their pink slips for the hotel, frantically calling out on their cell phones. I Supervisor. She came up with a simple answer to my “What áré we going to do??? ” question. “Why, sleep on a bench right here at the gate, just like we are going to!” A great load was lifted from my chest, followed immediately by another when se put my mind at ease regarding the luggage. NO WE DON’T HAVE TO PICK IT UP TONIGHT! All checked-in luggage of a cancelled flight, if not picked up by the owner, is forwarded to the destination on the first available flight. So .1 learned my first lesson about cancelled flights, and I’m passing it on to you: DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU ARE TOLD! Keep asking until you get an answer you can live with! The line was crawling very slowly, but at last I got to the coun­ter. I had to ask Julius which flight he wanted, and he wanted one that was leaving tonight, regard­could not take on anyone, they were grossly overbooked! And how come they were flying and we weren’t? That’s because their flight was originating from Phila­delphia, and they had a plane and we didn’t. You see, the problem was not getting out but coming in. Nothing was landing tonight in Philadelphia. So I trekked back to our gate, and there I encountered the next hurdle. After another long wait, we were ready to reschedule. Of the two possibilities offered, 7 am or 8:40,1 chose the later, because it was a nonstop flight to LAX. Julius was rescheduled, but when the girl got to my ticket, a frown appeared on her forehead. - You are on an AWARD ticket!” - Yes, I am, is that a problem? - No prob­lem, but we cannot touch award tickets. You have to call the 800 number and reschedule yourself! I walked back to where Julius was sitting and called the airline on my cell phone. It was easy, the flight was less than half full, I got on it and kept my old con­firmation number. So back to the counter where they would print my boarding card. And there once again I ran into our guardian angel Linda. She looked over our situation and declared there was no way the 8:40 flight could leave in the morning, because whoever did not have an aircraft tonight is not going to have one tomorrow. I learned a new word, “originator”. A flight that originates somewhere else, is sure to encounter the same problems and delays in the morn­ing. We are better off if we plan on the 1:20 pm flight. True, it is no nonstop, although direct, but it lands for a short time at Chicago Midway. It would get us home around 5:30 p.m. Pacific S.T. By this time we would have taken anything just to be done with it. Linda took care of my award ticket, boarding cards were printed, and we got a Coke (a Diet Coke for Julius because of the Diabetes). Now all we had to do was find some food, because his blood sugar was down and he had to eat. His first attempt was unsuc­cessful: all the food places in the neighborhood were sold out. Next, he sent me out on a scout mission. I got on the “moving corridor” towards the other terminals, and somewhere between “B” and “A” I finally found one place at the Food Court that had salad. I went back to “D” to get Julius, and we trekked to the Food Court and got our salads. Next, I had to find a coffee place, and they were brewing the next batch, told me to come back later. There was a general infor­mation booth, and I walked over just to kill the time, and told the agent there what happened to us, that we were resigned to sleep on a bench at the airport. She said, you don’t have to do that, and handed me a two-page sheet with the phone numbers of some two dozen hotels in the area. I took the coffee and the list back to Julius, but I was too tired to make a call. He made me, and the first place, Comfort Inn, had no free rooms. The Airport Marriott offered a room at the upgraded price of $279. per night. We declined, and we lucked out on the third call: Day’s Inn had a room for us for only $129. instead of the usual $79. They would pick us up in 15 minutes at stop Number 4, Hotel Courtesy Pick-Up. By then it was past 10 pm. on Oscar Night. And here was the silver lining, the little bit of good you find at the bottom of every bad thing: I was getting to watch the Oscars after all! The hotel was in Chester, right next to Widener University. We were the last ones to get a room, after a flight crew that also got stranded. We trekked up to the 6th floor, only to find that the room had not been made up. There were dirty towels on the floor, wrinkled sheets on the bed, trash in the trashcan and leftovers in the fridge. There was no soap or shower cap in the bathroom. And here I learned another important lesson: that it is all right to stand by your principles, even if others don’t like it. Ever since my flight attendant days, I always liked to have my cos­metics, a change of underwear, sleepwear, a sweater, lately my camera and phone charger, and a day’s supply of food and medicine with me on the plane. Julius frowned on this' and he was always trying to get me to check in my carry-on. This time all my usually unnecessary pre­cautions proved to be justified, and it made me feel good about all those other times when I had doubts about it. I write about this in such detail to warn you: when you travel, especially in winter, and with medical needs: BE PRE­PARED FOR EVERYTHING! TO BE CONTINUED Március 9, 2007 ~

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