The Long Way Home

Last summer I traveled to Atlanta for a weekend to surprise my best friend Katie and the newest member of her family, Eli.

(Clearly he was thrilled to meet me!)

At just six weeks old, Eli didn’t do much more than eat and sleep.  And when it was time for him to eat, everything in Katie’s world came to a stop until he was nice and full.  Understanding this, it didn’t bother me at 4:00pm on Sunday that we had to delay our departure for the airport until Eli was finished with his late lunch.  Even at 4:15pm (our ‘at the latest’ departure time) when my little man E was just starting his ‘second helping’, I still didn’t mind. (I mean it was love at first sight with this little guy, of course I didn’t mind sacrificing airport time for him.)  

Anyone that has traveled with me knows how close I like to cut it when it comes to getting to the airport in time, so even as we were pulling out of the driveway at 4:30pm, I still had faith I would be just fine.  It wasn’t until we pulled in to the airport and saw the backed up line of cars that the reality of missing my flight kicked in.

“Umm should I be worried about that?” I asked as Katie hit the brakes.

“No, it’s fine.  I can drop you off at the lower level.  There’s never anyone there,” Katie assured me.  Thankfully Katie knew her stuff.  After a hurried good bye, I rushed to the first available check in kiosk. 

5:40 was my departure time, 5:00 was the latest I could check my bag, 5:08 was the time on the screen.  Crap!

I could either wait 2 hours and take the next flight or carry on my bag and run to my gate.  I went for option #2.  The only obstacle I foresaw were the liquids in my bag.  As a seasoned traveler, I know that the ‘nothing more than 3oz liquid’ rule doesn’t always apply.  It depends on who’s enforcing it.  So I surveyed the eight different x-ray monitors and chose the one who looked like they hated life the most.  And whaddaya know, I made it through; 2 shampoo bottles, contact solution and all!!

On the other side of security, I looked down to see my gate.  E18.  Are you kidding me?!?

For those of you not familiar with Atlanta airport, it sucks.  The terminals are laid out in a straight line.  Please see diagram below.  Reading my boarding pass I was in Terminal T.  Gate E18 is the red dot.  Awesome.

(I couldn’t possibly be further away from my gate if I tried)

Luckily the tram was there as I came down the escalator.  I jumped on and waited for the doors to close.  A solid two minutes went by and the doors were still open.  Finally a voice came over the PA system and let us know there was a delay, but the tram should start shortly.  I didn’t have time to find out how long shortly meant.  So I exited the tram and started speed walking to Terminal A.  As I approached the terminal I saw another tram with its doors open.  Or was this the same tram? Was it working now?  It was worth jumping on to find out, I mean I had almost a mile still to go to gate E18.  A minute went by, nothing.  You’ve got to be kidding.

So once again I exited the tram and started speed walking on to Terminal B.  I should also note that the flip-flops I was wearing had decided that day was a good time to start slicing in to the side of my foot.  So as I was half sprinting from terminal to terminal my shoe was slowly drawing blood.  Which really made the situation better.

I arrived at Terminal B with a bloody foot and dripping in sweat (Atlanta is quite humid in June).  Lo and behold there’s the damn tram again.  In honor of my throbbing foot, I decided to give it one more shot.  Afterall the voice on the PA did say we’d be moving shortly.  So I stepped on to a tram for the third time.  Thankfully after only about 45 seconds the doors finally closed.

I stared at my watch as we slowly made our way to Terminal E.  There’s no way I can make it, I thought to myself.  Even if I sprint, it’s 5:30 already and I’m still on the tram!

There’s absolutely nothing worse than missing a flight by under a minute.  I’d rather miss it by an hour.  At least then I don’t feel like I could’ve just tried a little harder!  To avoid either instance, as soon as the doors opened at Terminal E I broke in to a sprint.  Halfway down the terminal I passed a family of four that was also sprinting.  They must be on my flight. 

As I approached the gate I saw the gate agent lifting the microphone.  Oh no, he’s going to announce the flight’s closed, and OF COURSE it’s the second I get to the gate.

“If you’re running for the Boston flight, you don’t have to.  We’ll wait for you,” he announced to the family of four.

“Why didn’t you announce that as you saw me sprinting down here?!” I asked, highly irritated.

“Because I didn’t think of it until I saw you get here.  I’m a guy, what can I say?  I don’t think.”

“Whatever.  As long as I’m here.”

I got to my seat, way in the back, feeling sorry for the guy who got the seat next to me and all my sweaty greatness.  I settled in and took out the reading I had to finish before work the next day, grateful that I had made it.  I had no idea that would only be the first half of my crazy story for the day!

TO BE CONTINUED…

I Found My Calling at the Airport

This next story isn’t quite as action packed as the last one.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s still entertaining, but its purpose is more to explain “where it all began”.  At a very young age I fell in love with traveling.  As the years went by it turned in to an addiction.  That and the fact that I have never (and I mean EVER) gone to the airport and NOT had something bizarre happen means that a good portion of my stories involve traveling.  This next story just goes to show that this is not a recent phenomenon; it’s something I’ve been dealing with my entire life.

My mom has always traveled for work and every chance she had she would let me tag along with her; clearly she is to blame for my addiction.  During one such trip she and I were flying out of Chicago’s Midway airport.  I believe I was only about 11 or 12 years old, I mean this was way back when Midway was only two hallways with one security line; so it had to be forever ago.  Anyway, her and I were on our way to the gate when we passed a ringing payphone (this was pre cell phone days so it was still widely accepted to use payphones).  The ringing stopped me in my tracks.   It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the phone started ringing RIGHT as I walked by, so I felt I owed it to the person on the other line to answer. Without alerting my mom of the change in plans I walked over and answered the phone.

 ("me" on the phone)

Me:  Hello?
Person on the phone (we will call her Betty):  Hello?? Kathy??
Me: Um no.  This is Caitlin.
Betty:  Well is Kathy there?
Me:  No.  Well I don’t think so.  I was just walking by this phone when it rang.  So I answered it.
Betty:  Well I’m looking for Kathy and Joe.  Would you be able to tell me if they are there?
Me:  You know you called a payphone at Midway airport, right?
Betty:  Yeah.  Kathy said to call this number back.

Even though I informed her that her friends were nowhere to be found, Betty continued to describe them to me.  I felt bad and figured I’d already come this far, it wouldn’t hurt to quickly check the nearby gates. At this point my mom’s patience was running out.  With a confused look on her face she walked over to me and asked, “WHAT are you doing?!?” 

What did it look like I was doing?!?  Clearly I was looking for Kathy (about 40 yrs old, medium height, brown hair, pink t-shirt) and Joe (younger guy, 6 foot, blonde hair, black Star Wars t-shirt).  After realizing I wasn’t kidding, my mom reminded me we had a flight to catch and I didn’t really have time to be assisting the random woman who called an airport payphone.

So I let Betty know that she was out of luck and I really had to go.  I suggested having them paged; which she interpreted as me paging them while she held.  So I explained how the paging process works and no, I don’t know the phone number to the airlines but I bet the yellow pages could tell you.  Finally I hung up and my mom and I continued towards our gate. 

As we were discussing and laughing about the whole phone incident we passed something that made me, once again, stop in my tracks.  A 40-something woman with brown hair, medium height and a pink t-shirt was saying goodbye to a 6-ft tall man in a black Star Wars t-shirt that was boarding the plane (this was also back when you could go to the gates even if you weren’t flying).  I went over and tapped her on the shoulder, “Excuse me, are you Kathy?”  She looked at me very confused and answered, “Yes.  Do I know you?”

“No.  But I answered a phone a while ago and Betty is looking for you.  I don’t know if it’s important or not,” I proudly announced.  This news delighted her.  She started screaming down the jetway at Joe to get him to turn back.  He walked back out with a terrified look on his face.  “Joe, this is the girl who answered the phone!  She’s the one who talked to Betty!!” she shrieked.  He was clearly not impressed.  He gave me a thumbs up and headed back towards the plane.  Kathy let me know that she was able to get a hold of Betty but thanked me for trying to help.  Pleased with my good deed, I ran back and caught up to my mom.  All she could do was shake her head and say, “only you.  Can’t take you anywhere.”

If only she knew then how true that statement was!