I thought I had posted my final entry last Friday; but, as faithful readers who are also on Facebook know, our trip home was so eventful that it has to be recorded here in all its gory detail.
We rose bright and early Saturday, setting out for NOLA at 8 a.m. About 45 minutes from the airport, I received an email saying our departure was delayed from 11:20 to 11:45. Since we had to connect in Atlanta and had under an hour to do so, I was concerned. As we were checking our bags, I learned the flight was further delayed, to 12:05, so I called Delta's service line to explain that I was pretty sure we'd miss our connection.
The very nice lady I talked to assured me we'd have plenty of time, as the plane was due to arrive at 2:00 and our connection didn't depart till 2:45 (that's wheels-down). I patiently noted again that we were a group of 26, were seated in the rear of the plane, had one person in a wheelchair and didn't know what our departing gate was. Since they close the doors 10 minutes before departure, we'd be left with 20 minutes to deplane (a process that would take at least 15 minutes) and hotfoot it to our gate at the busiest airport in the country. She acknowledged it might be tight, and was able to identify the gate, but we would have to take the underground train. If I notified the gate agent on arrival would they phone our departure gate and tell them we were on our way so they'd hold the flight? She thought that was a fine idea. I wondered if she ever actually travels.
Meanwhile, our drivers returned from turning in the rental cars to report that Enterprise intended to charge us for damage to one of the cars -- a barely visible wear-and-tear scratch that could easily have been there when we picked it up.
In the gate area, the departure time was moved back to 12:30, and as far as I was concerned, all hope of making the connection was lost. I spoke to a very friendly gate agent who assured me that the weather was awful in Atlanta and nothing was going in or out, so our flight to LGA would certainly be delayed at least 90 minutes. Ever the skeptic and knowing flights would be moving as soon as the weather cleared, I began tracking our connecting flight, which was coming from Caracas, Venezuela. When I saw it had landed early and the connection to LaGuardia was showing an on-time departure, I approached my new friend at the desk again.
She was very surprised, but confirmed what I showed her on Delta's website, then showed me the manifest for the flight to Atlanta reflecting a count of 34 people going on to LGA. She assured me that Delta would hold the flight for 34 people, because, "They don't want to have to rebook all those unhappy people." Right.
At long last we boarded our flight and departed at 12:45. As soon as we touched down at 2:46 I powered up my phone to check the status of flight 802 to LGA. Worst fears confirmed: the plane had left the gate and was awaiting taxi. I spread the word to the gang, then John, Brian and I sprinted to the Delta service desk. Thanks to Forbes in his wheelchair, we were able to move to the front of the line.
Cheryl, who was to become our BFF over the next 2 hours, was helpful and patient, but was sorry to say we'd have to stay overnight in Atlanta. When I asked for hotel vouchers, her initial response was that only the man in the wheelchair could have one, but she caved pretty quickly when I replied in astonishment, "Really? Are you serious? Let's start over."
For the next two hours, with the gang sitting on the floor or loitering nearby, Cheryl explored options to get us home. After initially finding a 6 a.m. flight to LGA on Sunday, she was able to find 25 seats on a flight to Bradley at a more civilized hour, so we snapped them up (Carin had to get back on Saturday night, so we found her a standby seat and she made it home late that night). Cheryl told us that we could claim our bags, but it could take up to three hours to do so; otherwise they would be routed on to Hartford. Everyone agreed they could get along without them for one night. Just one night....
On to hotel accommodations. John and I figured out we could get by with 10 rooms with people bunking together, but my new friend Lamin, who was simultaneously working on rooms, regretfully told me we'd have to split the group up. I told him that wasn't a good idea, and maybe he should try again. Miraculously, he found the rooms we needed at the Renaissance, a very nice hotel just a shuttle ride away.
What about meal vouchers? Sorry to say, Delta just stopped giving them on January 8, three days ago. Okay, we'll deal with that after we get back.
Off to the Renaissance, where everyone was thrilled with comfy beds and multiple pillows. Two of the rooms (those assigned to more than two people) turned out to be junior suites -- Score!
Sunday morning, off to the airport again. Smooth check-in, on-time departure, nearly on-time arrival at BDL...Almost home!
Except that Emma was the only one of our group whose bag actually made it to Hartford. Cue the collective groan, as people's patience was beginning to wear thin.
Have you had to deal with delayed bags lately? As much as the rest of the flying process has been automated and streamlined, this piece is stuck in a time warp. I explained to the baggage agent that we were a group of 25, with 26 errant bags; he laboriously hunted and pecked our saga into his computer (connected to a dot-matrix printer, if you can believe it), while I asked if there might be a faster way to deal with this than having each person stand at the desk for 10-15 minutes, but he didn't have any ideas. Eventually (after nearly two hours), someone had the brilliant thought of writing all the information down so he could key it in later. That was a fine idea, he thought, and let us go, assuring me the bags would be in on the next flight, which he said got in at 7:30. (I worried that he wouldn't have the info entered in time for our bags to make the flight.)
Silly me, I assumed he meant it got in from LGA at 7:30, but when I got home and started tracking bags I discovered that there is no direct flight between LGA and BDL. My bags, along with a bunch of others, was "expedited" to Cincinnati, others to Detroit, to await flights to Hartford on Monday. Eventually we were all reunited with our suitcases full of stinky clothes by late afternoon to early evening Monday.
I must close with a huge tribute to my fellow mission trippers. Through all of this they were patient, trusting and good-humored. No one whined or had a meltdown. No one got angry. I couldn't have asked for a finer group of people to spend the week with, let alone stagger home with. They're the best!
We rose bright and early Saturday, setting out for NOLA at 8 a.m. About 45 minutes from the airport, I received an email saying our departure was delayed from 11:20 to 11:45. Since we had to connect in Atlanta and had under an hour to do so, I was concerned. As we were checking our bags, I learned the flight was further delayed, to 12:05, so I called Delta's service line to explain that I was pretty sure we'd miss our connection.
The very nice lady I talked to assured me we'd have plenty of time, as the plane was due to arrive at 2:00 and our connection didn't depart till 2:45 (that's wheels-down). I patiently noted again that we were a group of 26, were seated in the rear of the plane, had one person in a wheelchair and didn't know what our departing gate was. Since they close the doors 10 minutes before departure, we'd be left with 20 minutes to deplane (a process that would take at least 15 minutes) and hotfoot it to our gate at the busiest airport in the country. She acknowledged it might be tight, and was able to identify the gate, but we would have to take the underground train. If I notified the gate agent on arrival would they phone our departure gate and tell them we were on our way so they'd hold the flight? She thought that was a fine idea. I wondered if she ever actually travels.
Meanwhile, our drivers returned from turning in the rental cars to report that Enterprise intended to charge us for damage to one of the cars -- a barely visible wear-and-tear scratch that could easily have been there when we picked it up.
She was very surprised, but confirmed what I showed her on Delta's website, then showed me the manifest for the flight to Atlanta reflecting a count of 34 people going on to LGA. She assured me that Delta would hold the flight for 34 people, because, "They don't want to have to rebook all those unhappy people." Right.
At long last we boarded our flight and departed at 12:45. As soon as we touched down at 2:46 I powered up my phone to check the status of flight 802 to LGA. Worst fears confirmed: the plane had left the gate and was awaiting taxi. I spread the word to the gang, then John, Brian and I sprinted to the Delta service desk. Thanks to Forbes in his wheelchair, we were able to move to the front of the line.
Cheryl, who was to become our BFF over the next 2 hours, was helpful and patient, but was sorry to say we'd have to stay overnight in Atlanta. When I asked for hotel vouchers, her initial response was that only the man in the wheelchair could have one, but she caved pretty quickly when I replied in astonishment, "Really? Are you serious? Let's start over."
For the next two hours, with the gang sitting on the floor or loitering nearby, Cheryl explored options to get us home. After initially finding a 6 a.m. flight to LGA on Sunday, she was able to find 25 seats on a flight to Bradley at a more civilized hour, so we snapped them up (Carin had to get back on Saturday night, so we found her a standby seat and she made it home late that night). Cheryl told us that we could claim our bags, but it could take up to three hours to do so; otherwise they would be routed on to Hartford. Everyone agreed they could get along without them for one night. Just one night....
On to hotel accommodations. John and I figured out we could get by with 10 rooms with people bunking together, but my new friend Lamin, who was simultaneously working on rooms, regretfully told me we'd have to split the group up. I told him that wasn't a good idea, and maybe he should try again. Miraculously, he found the rooms we needed at the Renaissance, a very nice hotel just a shuttle ride away.
What about meal vouchers? Sorry to say, Delta just stopped giving them on January 8, three days ago. Okay, we'll deal with that after we get back.
Off to the Renaissance, where everyone was thrilled with comfy beds and multiple pillows. Two of the rooms (those assigned to more than two people) turned out to be junior suites -- Score!
Sunday morning, off to the airport again. Smooth check-in, on-time departure, nearly on-time arrival at BDL...Almost home!
Except that Emma was the only one of our group whose bag actually made it to Hartford. Cue the collective groan, as people's patience was beginning to wear thin.
Have you had to deal with delayed bags lately? As much as the rest of the flying process has been automated and streamlined, this piece is stuck in a time warp. I explained to the baggage agent that we were a group of 25, with 26 errant bags; he laboriously hunted and pecked our saga into his computer (connected to a dot-matrix printer, if you can believe it), while I asked if there might be a faster way to deal with this than having each person stand at the desk for 10-15 minutes, but he didn't have any ideas. Eventually (after nearly two hours), someone had the brilliant thought of writing all the information down so he could key it in later. That was a fine idea, he thought, and let us go, assuring me the bags would be in on the next flight, which he said got in at 7:30. (I worried that he wouldn't have the info entered in time for our bags to make the flight.)
Silly me, I assumed he meant it got in from LGA at 7:30, but when I got home and started tracking bags I discovered that there is no direct flight between LGA and BDL. My bags, along with a bunch of others, was "expedited" to Cincinnati, others to Detroit, to await flights to Hartford on Monday. Eventually we were all reunited with our suitcases full of stinky clothes by late afternoon to early evening Monday.
I must close with a huge tribute to my fellow mission trippers. Through all of this they were patient, trusting and good-humored. No one whined or had a meltdown. No one got angry. I couldn't have asked for a finer group of people to spend the week with, let alone stagger home with. They're the best!
