It’s Friday evening, and I’m ready to go home to enjoy my weekend with my family; my colleague in Atlanta suggested we get together Saturday morning and discuss the outcome of all the meetings we had during the week. Normally I would not object, but this is cutting into my weekend; after a heated discussion, again he won, probably because I have this feeling of loyalty to the company who pays me to direct the sales force.
Saturday morning after our meeting, he drove me to the airport. The security was very tight, and the suggestion was to arrive at the airport at least 2 hours before departure. Security, you say. I had to shove my driver’s license under their nose, and even then, they did not ask any questions. Do I look old? Do I look harmless? Or do they think I’m ignorant? Don’t answer.
The flight left Atlanta and arrived in Memphis on time; I waited outside the gate area for the next leg to take me to Joplin; then, all hell broke loose.
There were nine of us transferring to Joplin. There was no plane to take us to Joplin. The FFA guys thought it would be safer to keep the plane in Memphis for a routine checkup.
The FAA had been watching these commuter planes very closely, and when they feel like it, they find a mechanical failure and they call the inability to take off. That makes a lot of sense. What is the public supposed to do?
I normally use Joplin for two reasons: one, is close to home; two, the parking is free. Now, where in the world can you find an airport with free parking? Oh, and then because everyone knows me here. Even if I’m late, which is too often, someone will tell the pilots to wait for me, because they know I’m going to get there eventually.
Back to Memphis and still no plane. It’s 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning. The next plane to Joplin is tomorrow morning, Sunday at 6 a.m. The counter person says: there is nothing I can do, wait till tomorrow morning. There was no cancellation announcement yet, the only clue we had was the monitor on the wall, with the words: cancelled.
What is my alternative? Let’s break it down: there I was along with a business man we called Charlie and his wife coming home from a holiday, he screamed the loudest at the counter person; a 65 yr. old women leaving her husband coming home to mommy; a Taiwanese student and her friend making their first trip to the US; a young man who insisted the airline refund all his money for the inconvenience, so he can rent a car to drive to Joplin; a speech challenged man who kept following us around as he spoke to his carry-on bag and a 10 yr. old young man flying solo to visit his father in Joplin. That was a motley crew.
Charlie pounded his fist on the counter and demanded they fly us out to Joplin NOW. By then the supervisor was located working at the counter with her earmuffs on, giving directions all around. Charlie suggested they bring another plane to take us to Joplin, and the supervisor just looked at him with a vacant look.
Finally, the decision was made to bring a plane ready to depart at 8:45 pm, arriving in Joplin around 10:30 p.m. Allowing for traffic, I will arrive home around 1 a.m. Hey, it’s better than staying in Memphis for the night. After listening to all the tragic stories, I was ready to get home. Charlie was irate and he was sure to tell the supervisor his bags “better” get home to Joplin.
When we finally arrived in Joplin, I retrieved my bags; I looked around and found out the Charlie’s bags were nowhere to be located. He screamed, his wife screamed, and I went home.