Made it back to the District. My first class is in a couple of hours, so this is a perfect window of time for me to recount the bizarre yesterday. Disclaimer: I have several blog ideas brewing, so be prepared for a burst of posts.
My flight was originally scheduled to leave Chattanooga at 4:20 pm and arrive at 6 pm. After the meteorological 'meltdown' (or should I say, icedown?) we Southerners had on Monday, I suspected these plans would go awry. I just didn't know to what extent.
Anyway, I get an automated update around 8:30 am, letting me know my flight has been delayed to 5:10 pm. Not too bad given the national circumstances, I thought. 15 minutes later: 5:40. As I'm driving downtown: 6:25. These 3 calls within one hour, each one urging me to get to the airport as if my plane were leaving at 4:20 just in case. Not looking good. The afternoon was relatively quiet, but to be sure, I drove myself to the airport around 2:30. My mom was on clinic duty and had been scheduled to serve for some time; otherwise she would have taken me per usual.
I check my bag. New leave time: 6:15 pm. Fabulous. At least I had my iPod, Kindle, and laptop, and fortunately the airport was exempt from EPB's requested powerdown. My mom treats her last patient around 4:30 and comes to get me at the airport. By this time, I had received another message with 6:59 as the new departure time. So we decide to go to Sweet Basil for a quick dinner. How I love that place. On the way there, I get yet another call: 7:35 pm now. As these times inched closer to the later evening hours, I'm beginning to wonder if I'll roll in around the time I rolled out a few weeks ago: 5:45 am. Just in case, we get back to the airport around 6:30. And thank goodness we did.
About 20 minutes later, my fellow Chattanooga Hoya Alexis texts me, "They're boarding!" My mom and I were just downstairs in the rocking chairs, so we dash up to security and say our goodbyes. I am told by 3 TSA officials, "They're boarding! You better hurry!" Yes, I can see that, thank you. I did make a personal best for time needed to pass through security. I'm the last one on the plane, but we still sit there for about 20 minutes after stowing carry-ons before the lights are dimmed and we prepare to take off. Or so we thought.
All of a sudden I felt a rush of chilling air. Why is the cabin door open? Why aren't we leaving? The lights come back on, and a lady comes over the intercom to inform us that this trip is our plane's maiden voyage, and they have to check out some things that they thought had already been checked out but apparently were not. Should only take 20 minutes, she says, but we have to de-plane WITH all of our stuff. At this point, I'm a tad exasperated. As we disembark, a few employees barked at us not to leave the gate. Where did they think we would go? Our airport has a whopping 5 gates, and nobody was going to pass through security again. Well somehow 20 minutes turned into about 5 (did everything get checked that was supposed to be? We will never know, but I was hoping yes), so we are lined up in alphabetical order to reboard. Not sure why we had to do that, but at this point, all I care about is getting on that plane and arriving at my dorm at a non-obscure hour.
The ultimate kicker? Well it's not really that big of a deal, but I still found it curious: since we had to deplane, our flight attendant had to give the entire safety demo over again. Same people, same ears, repeat the schpiel. I really don't understand that logic. However, we did not have to repeat the process, so I was thankful for that.
That's my story. I am grateful that we all made it here safely, but there are days when you're exposed to bureaucratic oddities, and you can't help but wonder who in the world wrote the rule book. A more introspective, less snarky birthday blog to come.
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