The Plight of Flight

Traveling by plane can be such a pain.

Before I say anything else, however, I would like to note how thankful I am for air travel. I've just returned from a week-long tour of friends and family, and I couldn't have done it without an airplane.

Over the course of 7 days I flew from Sacramento to Los Angeles to Orlando to Philadelphia to Sacramento to O'Hare and back. In a handful of hours, I flew from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. When I think of all the pioneers traveling west in the early days of our country, and how many months they suffered to cover the distance my flight covers in an hour, I'm overwhelmed with thankfulness.

That said, flying isn't always a breeze. There are challenges.

First, you have to get your ticket and, if you must, check your bag (also known as paying to have your luggage lost). I refuse to check my bag anymore. I've had too many experiences of bags lost, delayed or destroyed for me to have any confidence in the system.

Then there's security. Thanks to a number of terrorist plots, crazies and idiots, security is tight...as it should be. And yet, there doesn't seem to be any method to the madness of screening. Do you remember the almost-London attack? It was that little event that brought to fruition the 3-oz liquid rule. I flew two days after the London incident with my brother.

Security was tight - everyone was checked, every bag and purse was opened and sorted through. As Mark and I approached security, we realized he had his EpiPen with him, a 9-inch needle to inject a medicine to stop a deadly allergic reaction in case he's stung by a bee. We were both sure this wasn't going to fly, and I, as the protective older sister, was ready to call in whatever lawyer I needed to make sure he had his EpiPen with him at all times.

The security officer opened my carryon and promptly tossed all chapstick, hand lotion and hand sanitizer I had on me. He opened by brother's bag, and Mark spoke up. "Uh, I have an EpiPen in there..." he said. "No problem" the officer said, "it's prescription, it's allowed."

Wait, so I can't bring Burt's Bees onto a plane due to it's potential for evil but my brother can bring a nine-inch needle filled with injectable fluid just because it's prescription? Don't get me wrong, he needs to have that at all times and I would have fought for him. But doesn't that make you think? I fairly certain a terrorist could get a prescription filled for an EpiPen too.

Without a doubt, however, the worst part of flying are the delays.

If you have ever been delayed, you know how frustrating this can be, especially if you have a connection or tight timetable. It's not good for anyone - passengers become especially cranky, pilots have to apologize again and again, flight attendants have to fight fights and put out fires, and no one has a good time.

Such was the case on Sunday night at O'Hare airport. I had an 8:40 PM flight to Sacramento, scheduled to arrive at 11:00 PM. I was starting a new job the next day ( more on that in another post), and I was exhausted. It was the end of my tour de family, and besides having no idea was time zone I was in, I was sick from getting up early, staying up late and traveling by so many planes - flying petri dishes, I call them. I just wanted to get home. I had been sitting in the airport since noon, seeing my family off on their flight to Houston, and as fun as it is to be in the airport for 8 hours, I was done.

Well, there were storms in Chicago that day. Flight after flight was delayed, but mine was so late in the evening, I was sure it would have passed by then. I was wrong. The departure time changed from 8:40 PM to 9:49 PM. A groan could be heard from the waiting area as the new time flashed up on the screen. A few minutes later, the screen flashed again - 10:03 PM. Sigh.

I made my phone calls, grabbed dinner, and came back to yet another new time - 10:25 PM. This means I would land in Sacramento at 12:30 AM on a work night. I called Bob, he said he was going to bed so he could catch a few winks, and I waited.

The screen flashed again - we were being moved to a new gate. A whole flight full of people, grumbling and complaining, stood up and trudged a half mile down the airport to the new gate.

I didn't believe it would happen, but we finally started to board the plane, and quickly. No one was messing around. We got in, sat down, situated ourself and watched the flight attendants scurry around to prepare for a quick take-off.

Just as we were about ready to close the door to the aircraft, the pilot came on the loud speaker. "Folks, this is such and so, your pilot for this evening. We just received information that the plane did not pass the walk around inspection. There are two things on the craft, the blankety-blank and the flubbernut, that are flat. We're going to inflate them as soon as they bring the equipment around, but it might take a little while. Our departure time is now estimated at 11:50 PM. We'll put a movie on for you all and apologize for the inconvenience."

2:00 AM. That was my new arrival time for Sacramento. 2:00 AM on the day I started my new job. 2:00 AM on a work day for Bob. I hate delays.

I did get home eventually. The Pilot, bless him, made up some time in the air, and at 1:45 AM, a plane full of bleary-eyed passengers stumbled out into the baggage claim. I got home safely, always the goal, and was able to catch a few hours of sleep.

Flying isn't always a breeze. There are challenges. I'm still thankful for the way I can zip across the country so easily and visit friends and family so often. However, if we could nix the delays, I'd be grateful.