Flying By the Seat of Our Pants

Let me sum up my recent trip to Champaign, Illinois, from Charleston, South Carolina:  I believe I traveled further than Flat Stanley without seeing anywhere near as much, and I also suspect that my luggage traveled even further than I.

The third leg of my flight to Champaign was delayed while we changed planes due to suspected brake problems.  That took 20 minutes.  Waiting for some official to sign off on the log book so we could take off took another hour and ten minutes.

That, I was to learn, was nothing.  Here are a few of the highlights from the return trip:

-- A change of the second leg of the flight from LaGuardia to Miami, due to NYC weather delays which would prevent me from making my New York to Charleston connection.  When I asked about alternatives, the 12:20 to Miami was suggested, boarding passes printed, luggage rerouted, at which time I was told, "Oh, that flight has been delayed.  It's in the hangar being held due to mechanical problems."

-- A change to a later Miami flight (2:00 p.m.) which was then held up on the ground for one-half hour due to problems with the audio-visual system – that's right, the television sets that American Airlines forces us passengers to watch (with or without sound) during the two hour flight.  And of course, this critical item had to be checked off by some bureaucrat before we could fly.  Causing me to get to the gate in Miami two minutes after scheduled take-off of my Charleston connection.

-- At which time I was put on a flight to Dallas/Ft. Worth, taking off two hours later, and leaving Dallas/Ft. Worth at 8:15 the next morning.  Without my luggage, I was to learn later.

-- Sitting next to an extremely wired young man, who was jumping around and singing – sans iPod – in a very large and crowded, sardine-style, flight from Miami to Dallas/Ft. Worth.  Which was, of course, delayed.  This was due to the federal marshal being called in to eject a passenger.  His crime was refusing to turn off his cell phone when told.  As he and his wife deboarded, he cheerfully yelled, "I guess we're just toooo drunk to fly tonight!"

-- And of course, inevitably, the lost luggage.  Could be in Miami, could be in … Charlotte???  The people at the 1-800-lost-luggage number had no idea why, two days later the bag had still not been returned to Charleston.  Could be because it was a small airplane and they had to get all the passengers' luggage on first.  No, they can't call Dallas/Ft. Worth to inquire about it because the people on the ground at Dallas/Ft. Worth are very busy.  And "we are just the liaison between the passenger and the airline".  Please, PLEASE get those folks at American a dictionary.

By the way, I noted at one point during one leg of the many legs of my flights that I had inadvertently left my cell phone on, leading me to wonder if I just may have come close to being responsible for the crashing of a plane.  One wonders.