Part 1b: London to HOME!

When last we met, I had successfully made it to London.  One night at Ben's and a few hours at my hostel the next night (I arrived shortly after midnight and had to leave the hostel at 5:15 am to take the Underground to the airport) and I was one step closer to being home.  At the hostel, I met this guy named Richard who also had to go to the airport.  So we spent the hour long subway ride together, and got separated by security lines in the airport.  See, everyone on my flight got tucked away in a line that went all through the security area.  I waited for three hours.  It was nuts.  Then, the airline effectively held us hostage (aka wouldn't let us board our flight to Detroit) until 20 people (the number of people they had overbooked the flight by) voluntarily gave up their seats on the flight with a guarantee of a flight "before Christmas, probably" and 500 pounds and all expenses paid in London during your wait.  Not a bad deal if you're a family of four and don't mind an extra few days in London.  But I wanted to get HOME.  So we were held two hours until enough people gave up their seats.  Oy.

We made up an hour of that delay in the air, so when we got off the flight, there was still hope to make my connection in Detroit to get to Chicago (Midway) where my family+Donnie was already waiting for me.  I had 55 minutes to collect my bags from luggage claim, go through security again (why they can't just transfer my bags for me is beyond me), and then make it to the gate.  DOABLE.  Except that my bags were the last two (literally) to drop out of the airplane and while I was waiting, I watched the minutes on my watch tick by.  There goes my boarding time.  And there goes my departure time. 

They rebooked me on the ONE remaining seat in the ONE remaining flight that was going to O'Hare instead of Midway.  Whatever, my family can drive, fine, book the ticket, I need to get HOME.  "Oh... I'm sorry ma'am..."  "WHAT?!"  "It appears that that last seat is in First Class.  You wouldn't have to pay any extra, but it is in First Class.  Is that a problem?"  "Free wine the entire flight?  Extra leg space?  A flight attendant who hangs up my coat the moment I get on the plane?  No.  I demand a flight on another day in second class.  I refuse to be treated like I have extra money."

So, I got onto that flight and we boarded on time and I got my wine and all was good.  Then, 15 minutes later we were still sitting there and we get an announcement from the pilot.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are getting word from O'Hare that the landing conditions are not good at the moment so we're going to be delayed 15 more minutes.  At this point, I'm about to fall asleep from my one glass of wine and the flight attendant convinces me (well, I wasn't in need of much persuasion) to have another glass of wine.  But I just started drinking it and the pilot announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, looks like they're delaying us another hour and a half.  I'm going to have you get off the plane so you can be more comfortable.  We'll reboard in an hour."  Well, what was I supposed to do with the wine?  The attendant said, "Well, if you want you can give it to me and I'll dispose of it for you... or you can do the right thing and not waste wine and drink it quickly now."  We were fast friends.

At this point, I was in the airport and I was a little drunk and I ran off in pursuit of a direct flight to Champaign that was listed on the departures board and it was not delayed but it was on the other end of the airport, so I ran there, hoping to get on to that flight instead.  There, I met a fascinating and inspirational woman who blessed me at the end of our conversation, was told very rudely by some Delta lady that she could not help me and gave me an 800 number to call, and ran all the way back, only to board the plane again, get some water from the attendant (I was purple from running, still kind of drunk, and I had taken DayQuill about an hour before all this started - oops!), and passed out.  Then we landed and I walked out of the airport and ...

THERE WAS MY FAMILY AND THERE WAS DONNIE.  Donnie said that, since my fam had seen me for Thanksgiving, he got dibs on hugging me first.  It was one of those barfy romantic reunions where we ran to each other and I flung my stuff everywhere and he spun me around and it felt so normal right away, to be together.  Also, I think I got some snot on him but oh well.

Then we went on to collect my luggage.  But, that's funny.  Because actually, my luggage wasn't there.  Nope, still in Detroit, maybe. 

But I DIDN'T CARE (except actually I did because it had all my Christmas presents in it) BECAUSE I WAS WITH MY FAMILY AND MY DONNIE.  Also, Delta/Northwestern, for once in all this madness and chaos, had their acts together and the suitcase was delivered to my grandma's house in Urbana not even 24 hours after I got home.  That's what I call service.

All in all, with these silly extensive travel delays and mix-ups and lost bags and canceled trains, I got home a total of 8 hours later than anticipated.  Not too shabby.  And at that point, I was just ready to get home and do whatever it took to get there, so I didn't mind the extra few hours.  My wonderful family members were troopers, waiting for hours at the Hilton Lounge eating pretzels and reading airport magazines, and driving me safely back home to my puppies.

Next entry -- Part 2: Home Sweet Home

... sometime soon.  :)