Phantom flights, cheese bagels and a guy who looked like Chuck Norris.

So I spent last weekend with Rachel at my Grandparents in Cincinnati. It was a great time. But what was absolutely insane was flying back to Louisiana from Indianapolis. Flying in on Thursday was pretty hectic too. I had eleven minutes in the Detroit to run through fifteen minutes worth of airport, gate B11 to gate A57 if I remember correctly. Then when I landed Rachel was having car problems so she wasn’t at the airport right away. After some time walking around the airport I spoke to an airport employee who told me where to page some one. After that didn’t work, I was able to use someone’s cell phone to call up Rachel. She had just got to the terminal when I called her. We had the car towed from Indy to Cincy and didn’t get there until 3AM.

But flying Sunday was much more crazy.

Noon in Ohio,
5PM in Indiana,
7PM in Michigan,.
10PM in Texas,
and Midnight in Louisiana.

So Rachel and I had lunch in Cincinnati with the guy who invented Always. We drove that afternoon to the Indy airport. We said goodbye (you know I’m getting tired of doing that) and I got on the plane.

So my plane gets in to Detroit airspace. The pilot comes on to say that the plane is in a holding pattern and we won’t be landing for another twenty minutes. I check my ticket stub and I turns out my flight to Houston is boarding two minutes after we land. If I have fifteen or twenty minutes of airport to run through then I am royally hosed! So I page the stewardess to let her know my situation. She says that they will probably wait for me in considering the circumstances.

The plane finally gets on the ground. I come bursting into the airport looking for a clock. They say be on board with in 15 minutes of take off. The plane takes off in less than 18 minutes. So I start bolting. Fortunately this time I was at A27 and needed to make it gate A10. That’s much less airport to run through. I make it there at the same time as half a dozen other people are converging to gate A10. Looked like they were all out of breath and also dealing with the same situation. But I did make my flight on time. When I made it to my seat all the overhead storage bins were full. So I asked a stewardess what to do. She said they would put the bag below and I could retrieve it in Houston. The plane was taking off soon so I made it my seat to attempt to catch my breath. So that was twice I spent less then twenty minutes in the Detroit airport. It is a really pretty airport. I’ve been there before. To bad I couldn’t have enjoyed it more.

So the plane lands in Houston. Looking at my ticket stub I said to myself, “Hey an hour and a half lay over. I can take my time this will be great.” I am exiting the plane and I ask the stewardess if I can have my carry-on. She says to pick it up at the in baggage claim. I ask, “Wait a minute, do you mean the New Orleans baggage claim?” Her jaw hits the floor, “You mean you have another flight to catch tonight.” My flight to New Orleans was at 10:50. She didn’t think any one would have a lay over that late. So I make it to the help desk inside the terminal and ask the attendant on duty. At first the attendant starts freaking out and she is hollering down to the baggage guys on her walkie-talkie. The she looks at my ticket and says, “Wait a minute. Your plane does take of until 10:50. You have plenty of time. Just head out to baggage claim in section A to pick up your carry on. Hop the underground train to section C to come back through security. Make your way over to section E to get your flight.” Yep the Houston airport is BIG!

I get my bag from baggage claim and head to the underground train. Then trains are these funny rickety slow moving things. I hop into the train car and there is just one other guy. He was kind of creepy looking. He had cowboy boots on and he kind of looked like Chuck Norris. I mean that was just kind of cool. Winding your way under the Houston airport in a wobbly train with a spooky looking guy who resembles Chuck Norris. I can die a happy man now.

So here I apply my skills of mathematical reasoning. I left from terminal A. The next stop the doors open and there are big signs that say terminal B. What would you do in this situation? The attendant said go to terminal C. So I decided to wait and get off at the very next stop. I get off the train and make my way towards the set of escalators. The fact that there was no big sign saying terminal C should have raised my suspicions. I was kind of confused that there weren’t signs with gate numbers or anything. At the top of the escalators was a very nice carpeted floor (not an airport norm), which was being vacuumed by a janitor. I asked him where would I go to find the flight to New Orleans. He was Latino and hardly knew a word of English.

I don’t know any Spanish, well at least nothing useful. I do know “?Permiten osos en la fuente?” and “El hombre De los moleculos” which mean, “Are bears allowed in the fountain?” and “The molecular man” respectively. Neither of those phrases would have been very helpful at the moment. But the janitor pointed upward to the top of the next set of escalators. I trustingly followed his directions and continued up. At this point I was clearly in a Hotel Lobby. A restaurant on one side, a gift shop on the other side and a ways down the middle was a check in desk. I haven’t a clue where I am or what is going on. The folks at the desk were clearly busy with customers. So I decided the gift shop would be the best place to determine if there was an airport hiding some place near by. No clue where I was but at least I had my carry on back in my possession. That was a happy thought. I ask the gift shop clerk where the I could find the flight to New Orleans. She said I got of at the wrong stop. The next stop was terminal C. I needed to go back down to the train.

I got back on the train. I no longer had the creepy feeling that someone who looked like Chuck Norris was glancing at me. I look at the wall of the train, which has big letters on it. Sure enough, the letters were A then B then H (for Hotel) and then C. I hadn’t remembered H being between B and C in the alphabet. I get off at terminal C and get through security.

I look up at the flight boards and my flight isn’t on the screen. It was like a phantom flight. This flight wasn’t on any of the monitors in New Orleans either, but I’ll get to that later. I ask an employee where the flight to New Orleans. He asked what airline and I said northwest. “Oh that would be over in terminal A” he said. “That’s where I just came from. The attendant said terminal E.” He told me to head towards the Continental desk a ways down the hall. As I was walking I saw a clock on the wall. It was 5 until 10. Where did that last half hour go? Oh yeah, creepy Chuck Norris dude, not know Spanish in a hotel and such. I remember now. I get to the Continental desk and they finally have the answer I have been looking for, “Gate E8”.

I didn’t get to eat in the Detroit airport so I am ready for anything. It was nearly 10 after 10 by the time I actually made it to terminal E. All the fast food places closed at 10. There was one smoothie place open which had a long line. Again everyone was in the same type of situation. I got a nice little ham and cheese bagel. It was super hot, but it was well worth it.

So I am walking of the plane in New Orleans. And I think to myself, “Yay my troubles are over.” Do you remember how I mentioned that Rachel wasn’t at the airport right away when I landed in Indy? Well my roommate Brian was going to pick me up in New Orleans. I come out into the terminal, no Brain. I go to get my suitcase from baggage, no Brian. I walk up stairs in the airport; I walk downstairs in the airport, No Brian! Finally I call one of those white phones and have them page Brian. And sigh of relief there is Brian.

Well here is what happened. The flights from northwest usually land in terminal A. My lovely phantom flight landed in terminal D. And none of the screens in the airport displayed the flight from Houston at all. Brain hadn’t a clue where to go. I hadn’t a clue where he would be. So for twenty minutes or so we were both wandering around the airport. Brian was upstairs when I was down stairs. Brian was down stairs while I was up stairs. Passing each other like sheep in the night. Do sheep pass in the night? Maybe they do that while sailing.

Any who, that’s my story. It got kind of long. But hey I’m making up for all those posted I didn’t make this last November.

Man that guy was creepy looking. But he did kind of look like Chuck Norris.