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Mother Nature takes charge and causes
all sorts of problems for folks in The Land
of Cotton and others headed in that direction.
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What’s mostly floating around my noggin at the moment,
however, is our last day in the Sunshine State and the not-so-wonderful
experience we had trying to escape back home to the Land of Cotton. Mother
Nature, it turns out, did all she could to keep us cooling our heels at Orlando
International Airport.
A little context might be helpful.
Like lots of travelers, I get a little anxious on travel
days. I’m the sort of guy who gets to the airport early – hours early. There are just too many unknowns when flying,
especially out of a new and unfamiliar complex.
The bothersome stuff most recently was a jarring mix of
logistical issues – dealing with traffic and finding the airport in Orlando;
figuring out where and how to return a car rental and figuring out where and
how to find the Delta terminal.
And so it was that we were headed out to the airport at
least five hours before our flight was scheduled. The good news, unfortunately,
also turns out to be badly tarnished. There was little traffic and, despite our
GPS announcing it couldn’t locate the airport, we had little trouble finding
it, thanks to a map my brother Larry had given me.
One of my greatest concerns, returning our rental car, took
minutes and couldn’t have been simpler – thanks and a tip-of-the-hat to
Enterprise! There were one or two challenges once inside the airport, but
several helpful clerks and security guards pointed us in the right direction.
So, as mentioned earlier, all this good stuff meant that we
were at our gate and ready to go. The not so good news is we had four hours to
kill. Yikes!
We walked around a bit and checked out the sites – fast food
restaurants, a newsstand, a few retail shops and a duty-free store. We ate a
late lunch, then walked around some more before settling in at our gate to do
some serious people watching.
Our view on the world was mostly filled with a parade of sunburned
folks, sporting Disney ears, T-shirts and tons of fat and cellulite,
euphonically blended with groups of business types in sport coats (the men) and
Vera Wang basic black (the women). Okay, truth to tell, I wouldn’t know a Wang
from a wong, but you get the picture, right?
There was a palpable sense of energy and rhythm about the
place. People coming and going; lives in transition. It was all a little dance
that played out smoothly; that is until Mother Nature took center stage.
The first blip appeared around 5 in the afternoon when the
departure board burped and our flight was delayed. For whatever reason, takeoff
was pushed back an hour, from 7:30 to 8:30. A bit later, a message flashed on a
nearby digital screen that flight times were being changed and that additional
info would be provided when available.
The terminal remained energized, but the smooth little dance
– a foxtrot, perhaps a tango – quickly deflated with all of us stumbling about,
anxious and attempting to figure out what was happening. Families huddled
together, and business types got busy on their smartphones. There was a lot of
standing around and long lines of passenger waiting to talk with agents.
Time stood still and, for a moment, it seemed I had landed
in purgatory, just this side of tourist hell! My life and those of my fellow
travelers were on hold. Delta and Mother Nature were in control; and, for the
most part, they weren’t talking!
It was at this point that Wendy pointed out a nearby TV
monitor that featured video of a swirling storm – slashing rain, hail and
lightning underneath dark and brooding skies – battering homes and buildings. Trees,
street signs, telephone poles and utility lines were literally twisting in the
wind. At the bottom of the screen a map of the area was prominently displayed.
The storm was hovering over, wait for it, Atlanta!
Our already delayed flight was pushed back a bit more, from
8:30 to 8:50; then to 9:10 and, eventually, to 9:30. The flight was now two
hours late and Wendy and I had been at the airport for an exhausting seven
hours.
The news continued to be bad.
At 9:30, when our delayed flight should have been taking off
– and the original flight should have been landing – the squeal of a microphone
silenced the terminal and it was announced that all service into and out of Atlanta
was temporarily suspended.
Isn’t there some old cliché about it being darkest before
the dawn? Well, dawn seemed hours away when, in fact, a ray of light peeked out
only moments later. As I wandered about, I glanced back in the direction of our
gate and spotted Wendy wildly waving. It turned out Mother Nature was growing
tired and it seemed a small window of opportunity had spilled across the Land
of Cotton.
Wendy, I and 150 or so other folks were hustled aboard a
waiting plane, tucked in as the pilots hurriedly pushed back from the gate,
then collectively sighed when it was announced, yet again, there was another
delay. Fortunately it was short.
After 30 minutes or so of simmering on the tarmac, we were
airborne and headed north. Interestingly, the two hour flight only took an
hour. Go figure!
It would take another two hours – waiting, yet again, on the
tarmac in Atlanta; making our way to an offsite parking lot, driving from here
to there – before we made it to our little corner of the world. It was 2 a.m.,
the power had been knocked out in the area and debris seemed to cover the world.
But, at the time, I had to agree with Dorothy. I jumped out
of the car, tapped the heels of my sandals together, and happily announced to
my sleeping neighborhood, “There’s no place like home!”
UP NEXT: My response to Delta’s “How Did We Do?” survey!
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