Why I Hate Traveling

Figured might as well do some in-transit blogging.

So, got to the airport super early to check in. First thing I rediscover is the ramp guys damaged the internal frame of my suitcase last time I traveled (totally spaced this) and the convenient retractable handle is jammed and won’t extend. So I have to hunch over a bit like Quasimodo to roll it along. No problem, the airport isn’t busy and I’m still relaxed. That lasts until I talk to the Delta check-in agent. She is looking at her screen and tutting. I may not be a master of social clues, but that doesn’t look good at all. And it isn’t. My first flight is running late and will leave me with a tight connection in Atlanta. She pulls out a map of the Atlanta terminals. I’m deplaning at an A gate. My connecting flight is leaving from an F gate. She shows me a map. I’m not joking, the two gates are the farthest apart in the whole airport. How far are the gates away? Well, let’s put it this way – – they run a train between them. The only way the gate could be further away was if it were in a different airport. Man, I’ve got 28 minutes. And I’m in the ass end of the plane, so I will be last off. If I miss my flight, I’m stuck in Atlanta till the next day with no luggage. Fuck.

Decisions, decisions

She begins looking at options. She offers to send me to Minneapolis then on to Amsterdam, flying past Manchester and then catching a flight back to the UK. It will add tons of time to my travel (and no guarantee those legs will go smoothly). Every option sucks. Now, they’re also taking volunteers to take later flights so it’s overbooked. Is she trying to convince me to move my flight to solve two problems? She does find me a window seat 11 rows closer, which will help. I have to make a decision.

So, what do I do? I gamble, baby! I’m sticking with my original flight and hoping we make up some time. We usually get tailwinds heading east. Technically, Delta has given me a 28-minute connection which falls below the minimum acceptable. Stay tuned for updates, kids. Of course, anyone who knows me knows I’m tempting the gods. My former hobby/addiction of gambling would have gone a lot better if I was actually lucky. Check out Late Night Offerings to Mammon for a taste of my luck.

Just checked with the gate agent, Eleanor; she’s worked her magic and moved me up 9 rows. I’m in 15B — unfortunately, it’s a middle seat, but every bit helps. She says the plane should make up time and the latest update has my connection at 32 minutes.

Wish me luck!

Could things get worse? I Hate Traveling Pt. 2


5 thoughts on “Why I Hate Traveling

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