And, Back Again

Last week I was one of the unfortunate air travelers who ended up in the FAA furlough’s crosshairs.  After surviving 8 hour long weather-induced delays the previous week at Newark, I was excited that the weather called for blue skies for my flights back to Belfast.  And then the sequester hit with full force.  All week long I checked on the status of my flight numbers, checking to see how many would actually be affected by the furloughs; statistics started revealing that most of them were feeling the squeeze of fewer FAA flight controllers in the towers directing traffic.  I woke up on Friday and braced myself for the inevitable delays.  My flight from Lansing to Chicago was remarkable for its unremarkableness.  However, Chicago always seems to find a way to throw a monkey wrench into any flight path, and my Chicago to Newark flight was no different.  First, I could not get a straight answer from anyone as to which gate the flight would be departing.  Finally, fifteen minutes prior to departing, they posted the information.  However, more wait time ensued and the predicted boarding time came and went; eventually a gate agent took the microphone to apologize for the delays and blamed it on congress and then started boarding group 1.  Looking at my boarding pass and realizing I was in group 5 (the last and final boarding group), I decided to head up the group as we were herded into line to wait our turn.  By the time we got on the jet way, it was clear that the plane was near capacity with passengers in seats and that all of the overhead storage space had already been claimed.  Instead of simply being able to gate check our carry-ons and retrieve them at the gate in Newark, we would have to check them to our final destinations.  I received my receipt, and realized that the gate agent had written “Belpast” instead of “Belfast” on the ticket.  Feeling nervous that my bag wouldn’t end up with me at my final destination yet again (I was separated from my bag en route to Lansing), I nagged the ticket agent until he went to change it in the system.  Meanwhile, I started hearing the flight attendants mumble about how it was going to be at least an hour if not more before we left the gate, let alone get airborne.  Realizing that my layover window in Newark was shrinking (thus my window to catch my flight to Belfast – and there is only one flight each day from the U.S. to Belfast), I started reciting every prayer I could remember and also called on my dad to intercede for me, as I was flying on the fourth anniversary of his death.  Something in all of that must have helped, because by the end of that hour I felt the wheels lift off the ground as we ascended into the clouds.  Arriving in Newark required me to stay on my toes.  I found my departing gate, only to have to switch gates after I had settled in, forcing me to retrace my steps nearly all the way back to the gate from which I de-boarded the Chicago to Newark plane.  Again I watched as the designated boarding time came and left, with a plane full of passengers getting rather grumpy at the gate (it was nearing 10:00 p.m. by now).  Eventually, though, we did board but had to sit on the tarmac for 45 minutes while we waited our turn for one of the few FAA flight controllers to give us the OK to take off – but finally made it into the night sky.  Typically an hour delay here and an hour delay there would not be so much of a big deal.  However, the delays on Friday were of epic proportion across the country which caused a trickle-down effect and made traveling miserable:  the squabbling in D.C. held the FAA hostage thus causing airlines and airline flight attendants to turn the friendly skies into the get-me-out-of-here skies.  Landing the next morning in Belfast caused me to be a bit bleary eyed, but I was able to look past my exhaustion when I discovered that both of my bags – the one I had checked in Lansing and the one I had checked plane side in Chicago – had made it to Belfast and were now in my hands.  This week I am plunging head first into writing my thesis.  I am finding myself jumping from one adventure traveling back and forth across the pond to starting up another one, although this one must be completed by August, and I have around 30 journal articles to read and (only) 30 pages to write.  Off to the races I go!