We left our house at 7 am yesterday, plenty of time to get to O’Hare airport for our 10 am flight to Denver, and then to Portland.

Then the phone rang.

Not a number I recognize, so I let it go to voicemail.

Sure enough, there’s voicemail, from Orbitz, who we booked our plane tickets through.

“Ummmm…. United Airlines, um, cancelled your flight. And, um, you’re on the 11:56 flight, landing at 12:13 in Portland, and, ummmmmm hope you got the message, ’cause it’s earlier than your connecting flight. Ummmmm yeah. You’re confirmed for 8:56.”

Whuh?

So we call Orbitz, and apparently, we’ve been booked on a flight that leaves an HOUR EARLIER than our original flight, and we’re not notified until it’s too late to even think about getting to the airport the federally-prescribed at-least-45-minutes-before-takeoff, much less the extra hour to get through check-in and security.

And so it began. We’re transferred to the airline, and the United representative at the call center in India was completely unhelpful. All she can do is read things off a computer screen, and advise us that, “Due to technical difficulties,” she cannot transfer us to a supervisor or anyone else who can help us. The original flight was cancelled due to “ramp service,” she says, which is, “the servicing of the ramps.” Clear as mud.

I drove like a bat outta hell through morning rush hour to get to the airport, where we stand in three different lines to find out that we can be put on “Rolling Stand-by” for the 10:15 flight, with guaranteed tickets on the 8:00 pm flight.

If we don’t make the 10:15, we’ll be standby on the 12:30. Great. We step up to the desk to make sure we’re on the list and are told by the oh-so-helpful-and-friendly gate agent, “I can’t help you with anything right now, because I have to go to another gate. I’ll be in trouble if I’m not there. Wait until the next crew shows up, an hour before the next flight.”

Yup. Lunch is some scarfed Chinese food, and then back to the gate. Funny thing, the same oh-so-helpful-and-friendly gate agent is behind the counter again — what happened to that other gate?

If we don’t make the 12:30, we’ll be standby on the 5:30. Uh-huh. Bored now.

Yippee! They call our names for the 5:30! We ask them to comp us a couple of the snack boxes on the flight, and the oh-so-helpful-and-friendly flight attendant snarls, “No. Like I told everybody else, you can purchase that for $5 or purchase something in the airport.”

We eat crappy airport pizza while waiting to board.

But then! Then we’re sitting on a plane! With wings, and everything! Granted, we’re on the exit row, both in middle seats, but they’re seats!

I plug in my iPod headphones while they’re doing all the pre-flight crap and close my eyes.

“He-LLO!” I hear, and open my eyes. Perky blonde oh-so-helpful-and-friendly flight attendant is standing expectantly in front of our row. “Excuse me?” I say, taking out an earbud.

SIGH. “Could you take those OFF? I just went through a whole spiel about what it means to sit in an exit row and I need verbal confirmation that you will carry out the duties printed on the safety card.” Venom is practically dripping out of her mouth.

“Yes, I will, thank you,” I say, resisting the urge to add, “I HAVE BEEN SITTING IN THIS AIRPORT ALL DAMNED DAY BEING TREATED LIKE CRAP BY YOU PEOPLE AND IF YOU DON’T WANT ME TO BEAT YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN ARM YOU WILL GET OUT OF MY FACE AND WALK AWAY RIGHT NOW,” because my mother taught me manners.

So the plane sits at the gate for awhile. We assume it’s because they’re dealing with any other standby passengers. They show a safety video. It’s looking good. We back away from the gate. The engines start up.

All the lights blink and there’s a weird noise.

We sit on the tarmac for the next hour. There’s some electrical problem, we’re told.

We go back into the gate and sit for another hour and half.

We’re told to get off the plane, because they don’t know how long it will be. Then we’re told, there’s a new plane, go get on that.

At this point, we’re so fed up with the insufferably rude and obnoxious flight crew and the uncertainty of the faulty equipment, so we go to the gate with the 8:00 flight, which has now been delayed until 9:30 and get our boarding passes back for that flight. Our friend Chip shows up, and some other Chicago area ministers, and we’re chatting in the gate area and board for a 9:30 departure. Over at the other gate, where the other flight’s new plane is, there is still a large, angry and tired looking group of people, and we’re congratulating ourselves on our cleverness.

We’re even gloating a little bit.

And you know what? Gloating just pisses off the universe.

Because everything is looking good on this new flight, and we’re in comfortable seats, together, even, and then we pull away from the gate and they start up the engines and the lights blink and there’s a weird noise.

And we sit on the tarmac for a half hour or so, and the plane has an electrical problem. It is a different plane than the first one, really. And we pull back to the gate, and sit there for another hour, and it’s now about 11:00 pm Chicago time.

And then, yay! It’s fixed! So we’ve pulled away from the gate again, and we’re taxiing to the runway, and we’re passing an amusing sign about compasses and deviant magnetic fields, and we’re. . . stopping.

And sitting on the runway for another hour, while we’re rerouted due to thunderstorms on the way to Portland.

We finally take off at around midnight. We catch what sleep we can, and we finally land at 2:30 am Portland time. (That would be 4:30 Chicago time)

Miracle of all miracles, our luggage is waiting for us, unmolested and whole.

We get a cab to the hotel, we check in, and we collapse into bed around 3:30 am Portland time.

Total time elapsed from our front door: 22.5 hours.

If I never fly United again after the return trip (which I DREAD), it will be too soon.

uuaga 2007