“View From Seat 20A” is a new series on the blog, chronicling my travel adventures. Â If you follow me on Twitter, you know that instead of lying on the beach in Guanacaste, I’m back at my parents’ house in PA. Â Here’s what happened.
– En route to vacation. Â Or so we thought –
I am, by no means, a novice traveler. Â I’ve clocked well over 1 million miles flown, can get through security as rapidly as Real Housewife flips her lid, and settle into a deep slumber in seat 20A well before take-off.
My family takes its premier status for granted – short lines to check-in, no baggage fees, and lounge access. Â Getting to the airport an hour and half prior to departure? Â No issues.
Unless it’s on December 22nd. Â And the Continental eliteAccess check-in area resembles the lines at Apple stores for the latest iPhone. Â And there are only 4 agents working the counters. Â No problem, right?
When we finally reached a check-in kiosk with 30 minutes until boarding, we managed to quickly check in my mother, my husband, and I. Â My father’s (ancient) passport wasn’t being registered by the computer, so my husband and mom went ahead to security while I stood with my father to get it sorted out.
The agent in front of us? Â Helping a group of pushy (read: obnoxious) kids who clearly weren’t premier fliers. Â The other agents? Â Nowhere to be found.
Time ticked down as I stomped along the Continental desks, looking for an agent. Â My father, channeling the Dalai Lama, stood patiently at his kiosk. Â After bitching out the agent in front of us multiple times, he finally alerted someone to help.
At this point, boarding was about to start.
The agent takes the passport, punches buttons on his computer, and makes a call. Â He then blurts out “I’m sorry, we can’t check him in. Â There’s not enough time left.”
“But we’re carrying on,” I say. Â “All we need is the boarding pass.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Â There’s nothing I can do.”
“Are you fucking shitting me?! Â You make us wait like idiots at the kiosk for the past half hour, and when you finally get to us you can’t do anything?! Â What the fuck!?!” Â (I think to myself)
Calmly, I say “Get him on tomorrow’s flight. Â Dad, I’ll be back.”
Attempting to maintain some semblance of calm, I rush to the security line where my mother and husband are still waiting. Â “They-won’t-check-him-in-trying-to-get-him-on-tomorrow’s-flight-will-be-right-back” I blurt out, and then dash to the check-in counter for an update.
Dad’s walking towards the exit. Â “All the flights are booked. Â I’m going home – you go on without me,” he says.
Like hell we are. Â At this point, mom and my husband are standing with us, looking frantic. Â “What’s going on????”
“It’s over. Â Call the airline and hotels to cancel. Â I’m going to customer service to try and get our bags.” I say, and storm off.
As expected, there’s a line at baggage customer service. Â I wait patiently, too drained to raise the hell I was waging before. Â My mother retreats to a corner to cancel our tickets. Â My husband calls his mother to update her. Â My father stands with me, silent.
“It was only a matter of time,” I say.
“For what? Â For this to happen?” he asks.
“Yes. Â We’ve cut it close and made it on flights in the nick of time before. Â Karma finally made us her bitch,” I reply.
“Do you think she’ll learn?” he asks, nodding to my mother, the only one of us who tempts fate and arrives at airports 1 hour before departure.
“No,” I reply. Â “But I’m calling the car service and telling her what time we’re leaving from now on.”
The claim for our baggage is smoothly submitted, a relief from the hell that was check-in. Â Tortilla chips and congealed cheese sauce purchased from a nearby vendor and inhaled. Â The driver returns, places our few bags into the trunk, and takes us back to my parents’ house in the outskirts of Philadelphia.
Italian food is ordered. Â A bottle of cabernet sauvignon is opened. Â Midnight In Paris is ordered via OnDemand, and we sit quietly watching the movie and slurping up noodles. Â My father and I stare into our empty wine glasses, the bottle having been drunk too quickly. We decline a second bottle, opting for sleep instead.
It may not be ziplining through the jungles, hiking near Arneal, or laying on a beach. Â But there are worse things than to catch up on books begging to be read, movies yet to be seen, and cozy days and nights in my favorite chair, curled up next to the fireplace, spending time with my family.
And drinking through my father’s excellent wine cellar.
It may not be Costa Rica, but it’s a family vacation all the same.
If you’re traveling over the next 10 days, get to the airport four hours before your flight departs, check-in and print your boarding pass, and carry-on. Â Packing tips here and here.
