On the fair morning of January 19th, 2012, Evan and I ventured to the great concrete composition that is LAX.
Our mission was important, grand, admirable: To venture across land and sea to explore the old, historic continent of Europe.
It was the first time Evan was to make the glorious journey to the exotic "Overseas," and our shared excitement was through the roof as we fastened our seatbelts to take off on the first flight of our long trip: LAX to Seattle.
Giddy with joy, we eagerly awaited take off!
...and waited...and waited...and waited...
After a good while, Emily, the woman sitting in the aisle seat of our row turns to us and says:
"Yeah, I just read online that they've declared Seattle in a state of emergency. They got more snow in a day, than they usually get in a year."
Immediately thereafter:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I'm afraid it is not looking too good up there in Seattle at the moment. Earlier today, the whole airport was closed, but later they did reopen a runway, so we thought there might be a chance we could get you guys up there...but now it's not looking that way, I'm afraid..."
(Let me repeat: They had reopened A runway. As in singular. ONE. And they decided to just go on ahead with the schede anyway, instead of letting people make other arrangements. *sound of hand slapping forehead*)
doh.
Then of course:
*sound of a whole plane tumultuously deboarding at the exact same time, trampling each other like a colony of panicked elephants*
Cut to:
Me and Evan sitting in a long line on the floor of a carpeted LAX terminal, waiting for overwhelmed Alaska Airlines staffers to re-book new flights for everybody. Evan bought us Whoppers. The first one I've had in over 8 years. An older woman, whose husband was snowed in with their two dogs and no electricity, told me Evan was a fantastic gentleman. A man in his late 40s told me he was going to Alaska to bury his mother. And we all waited.
Me and Evan sitting in a long line on the floor of a carpeted LAX terminal, waiting for overwhelmed Alaska Airlines staffers to re-book new flights for everybody. Evan bought us Whoppers. The first one I've had in over 8 years. An older woman, whose husband was snowed in with their two dogs and no electricity, told me Evan was a fantastic gentleman. A man in his late 40s told me he was going to Alaska to bury his mother. And we all waited.
While we waited, the screen announced a peculiar change in our already cancelled flight. Uhm, an 18-hour-wait on the plane before it takes off? I was getting worried about the efficiency of this company.
A chick optimized her wait, by doing some, eh, close reading.
Luckily, however, all my worrying about about efficiency and what not was put to shame. After about 3 hours of standing in line, our flight was re-directed to a 4 o'clock flight, so we'd now fly straight to London and from there to CPH, shaving off one stop-over and arriving only an hour or so later than originially planned, despite having waited in the airport for more than 8 hours. Score!
And here is, ladies and gentlemen, Evan, about to board his first cross-Atlantic flight ever!
And here is, ladies and gentlemen, Evan, about to board his first cross-Atlantic flight ever!
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