Goodbye, Shit Louis

“I got a threshold, Jules. I got a threshold for the abuse I'll take. And right now I'm a race car and you got me in the red. I'm just saying that it's fuckin' dangerous to have a racecar in the fuckin' red. It could blow.” Vincent Vega, “Pulp Fiction”


Today, boys and girls, I enjoyed what might be the worst travel day of my life. And, surprisingly, it had nothing to do with the flight. At least not so far.

I groggily awoke at 4:30 PST (6:30 MST) in order to meet the car that was going to take me to the St. Louis airport. The driver’s running late, so I call him. It turns out that he thought I was flying out tomorrow. Not too worry, he’ll be there in 15 minutes he says.

Anyone knowing me knows full well I get stressed out before I fly and get stressed out when I run late in order to catch a plane. Simply put, my psyche gets thrown off and I get frazzled. Knowing this makes the rest of the story far better (i.e., miserable).

I get to the airport about an hour before my scheduled departure (note the use of the word “scheduled” as opposed to actual). I get all the way inside before I realize I left my phone in the car. Thankfully, Sam the Driver discovered this as well and he fortunately delivered my phone before I got much further. This would be the end of my run of luck this day.

Phone in hand, I check in and, after a quick trip through security, arrive at my gate about 25 minutes early. Shit, this just might be my day.

After a few minutes, I notice that there seems to be no effort to board people on the plane. And then the boarding agent announces that the maintenance crew discovered some “issues” with the plane but we should be boarding in about 10 minutes.

I have a bad feeling about flying on this plane. But rather than focus on the fact that I have about 40 minutes to hop off my plane and do the O.J. Simpson sprint through DIA, I’m thinking the opposite. “Take as much time as you need, fellas and do a thorough job,” I say to myself.

After 40 minutes, the crew decides that we aren’t going to fly that plane and they give us the choice of waiting for the new plane which is scheduled to depart at 11:30 (it’s now 10:00) or go back to the ticket counter to make different arrangements. I decide to try my luck and see what else they might be able to do.

After a 30 minute wait, I explain my situation to a very nice and helpful United staff person who puts me on the same flight from St. Louis to Denver (now leaving at noon) and changes the Denver - Oakland leg of my trip and, in doing so, puts me in first class for my troubles. Hello free alcohol. You know, this might actually be my day, I start to think to myself. This will be the last positive thought I have while in St. Louis.

Before heading back through security and to the gate, I decide to grab a quick bite from the local fast food burger place. I am greeted by the manager, a nice woman named Verlinda who is missing half of her teeth. I am swear to god. The rest of her teeth look like corn niblets and are brown and rotting out. When she talks, her mouth reminds me of a jack-o-lantern that just ate a large tootsie roll (assuming a jack-o-lantern could do so). This is the last time that anything strikes me as somewhat entertaining for the rest of the morning.

I hurry back to the gate just in case the replacement plane shows up and find, not surprisingly, that nothing has changed. After 10 minutes of waiting and shooting annoying glances at the TV screen which is broadcasting the Alito hearings, they announce that the 12:00 plane to Denver has been postponed indefinitely. I am starting to have another bad feeling about this.

I rush back to the ticket counter, explaining that the plane was cancelled and inquiring whether there were any other carriers that I could fly on that would allow me to make my connecting flight in Denver. Another very helpful woman makes this change and, as I prepare to head out, I notice one of my bags is missing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I scream in my mind. How the fuck did I lose my bag?

After several minutes of panic, I decide to quickly retrace my steps and hope that I find where I might have left it. I only have 40 minutes to catch my new flight, so I’d better make it snappy. So I run back to the same gate and go through the same security line for the THIRD TIME in order to find my missing bag.

I duck my head into every bathroom looking for my bag, hoping no one mistakes me for some sort of peeping Tom. It’s nowhere to be found and my heart is really racing now. I am in full blown panic mode right now. What’s in my bag? What happens if I can’t find it? Can I live without its contents? As I brace myself for the reality that I will never see my bag and travel clothes again, I end up at my original gate when I see it standing there where I last remember seeing it. So much for the vigilant St. Louis airport security. Nice work folks. My bag was sitting there for about half an hour and no one from security came and removed it. What’s wrong? Doesn’t it look suspicious enough for you?

As I start to head back to the main terminal, I notice I have about 30 minutes to get to the correct terminal, make my way through security, find my gate, and get on my plane which departs at 12:40. I do a quick inventory and then I discover that I’ve lost my ticket. Goddammit, what the fuck did I do to deserve this day? Trying to think quickly, I deduce that I had to have left it on my third trip through the security line. I am now sprinting through the airport, before I arrive at the security gate. Bingo, I was right.

I get my ticket conduct another quick inventory (which I am now doing every 3 minutes, or so). Phone and earpiece, iPod, laptop, wallet, carry on bag, jacket? Check. Time to head to the gates that serve American, hop on my plane and relax.

On my way to the gates that serve American, I discover that I don’t have a boarding pass yet because the ticket was issued by United. So I have to go through yet another goddamned line. Fuck me. I basically jump to the front of the first class passenger line (fuck them, they can wait) and yet another nice ticket agent quickly helps me and I am back on my way towards what I hope will be a quick trip through the security line.

Not so fast there, David James. The security line is longer than the list of Courtney Love prescription meds. There’s no way I will make my plane now unless I impersonate a pilot or TSA agent. Pushing the envelope yet again, I jump into the first class line, plead for a favor and - to my surprise - they let me into the first class passenger line. There’s only 5 people before me. I’m almost home free.

Unfortunately, one of those people is a woman who I would best describe as a pedestrian, Midwest version of Paris Hilton (minus the lazy eye). She’s dressed to the hilt, wearing earrings, boots and a rhinestone belt -- all of which individually set off the metal detectors. “ Jesus Christ, have you never been to an airport before in your life you stupid twat?!” I ask myself as I put aside violent fantasies of strangling her with her metallic belt. Taking her free time, she finally manages to make it through.

It being my not-so-lucky day, though, I have been randomly selected to submit to an extensive search of my bags and, apparently, body cavity. I’m not sure if you’re enjoying copping a feel Mr. TSA Agent, but at least buy me a drink first. Or at least make it snappy. I have 15 minutes to spare and I have no idea how close the gate is. After 5 minutes of an ineffective and superficial search, I am free to head to my gate. During that search, I temporarily lose track of my laptop (which was removed from the bag but which the TSA agent failed to move to the special search area), which by my count is lost item number 4 of the day.

Fortunately, my gate is only 100 feet away and I finally make it to my plane with a whole 10 minutes to spare. My adrenalin pumping and heart still racing, I conduct another quick inventory of my possessions. Everything seems to be here, but wait … I cannot find the earpiece that goes with my phone. Oh well, back to the TSA security check area. Unfortunately, I get bad news this time as they cannot locate my missing phone device. I’m sure it must be back at the United ticket counter but, after some quick calculations, I figure there’s no way that I can make it there and back in time. Fuck, I just bought that thing. I wonder if I can expense it to Savvis? Oh well, I’ll just tell myself that it made me look like a wanker.

Oh well, at least I made it on to my plane. Assuming we don’t crash or run into any other delays, I might actually make my connecting flight in Denver. I figure that the worst has to be behind me. Right?

Tomorrow - “The Joys of American Flight 5502” (or “Let Me Introduce You To My Seatmate, Bigfoot”).