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My trip home from San Diego
Mar 20, 2018, 9:20 PM
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There was an issue getting me home from San Diego. Enjoy. I might repost for the morning crowd
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip. Yep, my travel back from San Diego was one for the ages. I flew from Charlotte to San Diego via Detroit Friday on a one-way ticket...if Clemson lost the first game I would have come back on a Delta buddy pass Saturday, because Nikki has an uncle who works for Delta. A buddy pass simply means you fly standby on any flight. So by the time Friday afternoon rolled around I already had about 3500 air miles under my belt, along with 15 or so episodes of Parks and Recreation. Well, we all know Clemson won, so I stayed til Sunday. Nikki's aunt sent me a text, and said if I could get to the airport after the game was over, I had a really good chance of getting on a 10:30 PM (San Diego time) flight back to Atlanta, where Nikki would pick me up.
I finished interviews, wrote a couple of stories, rushed back to my hotel, packed, drove to the airport, dropped off the rental car, went through security and had the assurance that there were dozens of open seats. Then a funny thing happened......Auburn fans began to swarm in by twos and threes and pretty soon almost 100 extra people had shown up for the flight - they were folks who made reservations to stay in San Diego a few extra days, but after the butt whipping decided to head for home. So what happened to me? I get bumped way down the list, the door closes and I went from first in line to about 32nd.
No problem. The next flight leaves at 6 am.....and it looks wide open. I was smart enough that I had kept my hotel room key, so I left the airport, went back to my hotel room and slept for three hours before arising at 4 AM to head back to the airport. I get there, check in, and sure enough, here come Clemson and Auburn and West Virginia and Marshall fans by the hundreds, all wanting an earlier flight home. MInd-boggling. I was told, quite candidly, that my chances of getting home by buddy pass were no good until maybe Wednesday. So Deena Turner Smith worked her magic, and called me. She told me that she could put me on a flight, direct, from San Diego to JFK. Which, if you don't know, is in NYC. And then I would have to find my way from JFK to LaGuardia, and catch a flight from LaGuardia to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Greenville. I sprinted across the entire airport, checked into that flight, when she texted me and said, hey, that earlier flight has had some seats open up. So I spring back across the airport, only to find that more Auburn fans have shown up and the doors to the airplane are closed. I spring BACK across the airport, and make my flight to JFK. Barely. Because I am non-rev, I don't get to pick a seat, and yes, I get stuck in a middle seat on an aged plane. Which means, my 6-3, 300-pound man frame doesn't fit. It's impossible. I ask the monk - yes, a monk - on the aisle seat if he will change, and he says, " I am a monk, not an idiot." So they wedge me in, somehow, and the gate agent comes on the plane....she comes straight to me and starts screaming at me. Because I have a bag, and I am going to JFK but having to also catch a flight at another airport, she starts telling me I need to leave the flight and rejoin my bag, that I can't fly "this way." No idea what that was about, but they got me out of my seat and sat me down six times - yes six - before telling me that I can stay on the plane, but my bag will take another flight through Salt Lake. She takes it off the plane, puts another person's name on it, and sends it to..NYC.
I fly five hours, wedged in between an overweight monk and a mother holding a toddler, who has snot running out of every orifice, screams and tries to touch me for five hours. Finally, the nice flight attendant comes to get me and takes me to the galley, where I stand and help with drinks and ice (I've done this ALOT, as Nikki Hood can attest), and she gets my story. Feeling sorry for me, she tells me she has a 16-hour layover in NY, and here is her number, if I get stuck call her and I can stay in her room. OOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
I land at JFK - in shorts and T-shirt - to cold air and snow on the ground. I catch and Uber and ride through Queens with a Muslim who plays loud music and tells me how the Americans have ruined Baghadad. He then tries to drop me off at the wrong terminal, and gets spitting angry when I tell him I need to get to the Delta terminal.
I get to LaGuardia, finally, and I try to make a few earlier flights, but to no avail. I am stuck, cold, hungry and without sleep, while a THOUSAND high school kids in my terminal try to make it back to North Carolina. They are chirpy and happy and talkative, and I want to hill them all. The monk is also looking for a flight, and comes over to ask me a question, and I tell him I am a Christian but not stupid and walk away.
I finally find the late flight to Atlanta, and sit in between a 400-pound woman with breathing issues and a man from the Middle East who takes his sandals off and rests them on his leg, my leg, and scratches dead skin off of them. Two hours I endure the middle seat, while Nikki Hood says just breathe, calm down.
I make it to Atlanta, and the storms roll in. My flight is delayed an hour because of the storms, and then delayed more. It was supposed to leave at 11:40, and we take off at 1:15 AM. Yes, I am now 27 hours into this with no sleep and no real food. We get in the air, and we have to fly to Tennessee to get to Greenville. We arrive at Greenville, drop the gear, and are about to touch down when lightning strikes, the plane turns sideways, and the pilot revs the engie and takes us out of there. I text Nikki, tell her I might be late, and the pilot comes on the intercom and says we might have to head back to Atlanta. He roams around the skies of South Carolina for a while, but we land, and I got home at 3:24 AM.
I am driving to Omaha
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