Another story...

Well, as I said in my previous post, other than my return trip from San Juan, my trip to PR was fantastic. Here's the other story...

After spending a lovely morning and lunch in Old San Juan with SA and her cousins (the kids are too freaking cute), I was off to the airport. Arriving a good hour before boarding time, I had time to relax, make a few phone calls and wander. (An hour is about the upper limit to the time I can spend in an airport without wanting to jab a needle in my eye.) Unlike my flight to PR, my return trip was not direct - there was to be a short layover in Miami before jetting off to DC. And that's where things went, as Lewis Black so eloquently puts it, awry. We actually landed in Miami 15 minutes early. I thought to myself, "Oh, this is great. We'll get in a little early, then I don't have to rush to my next gate," as my connecting flight was in a little more than an hour. American Airlines apparently had other plans...

We sat on the runway for 45 minutes. That's right, sat. Didn't move, no info, just that the gate we were supposed to be going to was still occupied by a plane and there was no other gate free. Mind you, Miami International Airport is HUGE. I really mean huge. It was hard to believe that there were no gates available. But that's what we were being told... so we sat. Everyone in the plane getting anxious as it was obvious that I was not the only one with a connecting flight, time quickly ticking away.

Finally, after 45 minutes, we began to move, slowly, toward a gate. We parked in gate A21. My connecting flight was leaving from gate D34. There is literally over a mile of airport to cover between them. And by the time I actually de-planed, I had less than 10 minutes to get there. Needless to say, I hauled ass as hard as I could... falling on the escalator (no clutz jokes from anyone, please), knocking people over, stepping on feet, and screaming apologies along the way. Well, while I can run a 10 minute mile, I cannot do it weaving between people, with luggage, going up and down escalators in an airport in which I've never been before. There were times I wasn't sure I was even going in the right direction.

Needless to say, I missed my flight. By 8 minutes. Dammit. Making things worse, the next flight to Dulles was not until 4pm the next afternoon (it was slightly after 8pm at this point). But the guy at the gate assured me that my hotel, dinner and everything would be covered as this was the airline's fault and not weather related. All I needed to do was go to the ticket counter and talk with them to get everything in order. This was not as easy as it sounds. I waited on a long ass line of people, who, like me, missed their connecting flights because we were just sitting on the runway. After an hour of waiting on line, I was told at the ticket counter that the delay was weather related (apparently there was lighting earlier in the day, which delayed some planes, which caused us to get stuck) and that the airline would not be covering hotel or anything else for that matter. After trying to explain it to me again and again, I still did not get why other planes being delayed by weather made my plane, which landed EARLY, be classified as weather related. If that were the case, every flight delay could be reasoned to be weather related.

Well, they were kind enough (*sarsastic sneer*) to give me a discount coupon for a nearby hotel and booked the first flight out of Miami the next morning, which, unfortunately, did not fly into Dulles, but into Reagan. But at that point, I was not going to spend the day in the airport, waiting for an afternoon flight, which would likely be delayed due to weather again as the forcast was predicting the same kind of thunderstorms and lightning that caused me to miss my flight in the first place.

I did finally make it home. Missed a day of work. BC was very generous to not only pick me up for work the next day (I unfortunately made him wait for 20 minutes, as I locked myself out of my apartment - not a good week, as we can see. I'm still really sorry about that, BC), but also to drive me down to Dulles to pick up my car (which promptly got a flat the next morning - again, not a good week). I was very greatful.

The moral of this story: plan for the worst; and American Airline SUCKS!