The rage inspired by Delta has finally dissipated, and I've caught up on sleep. What should have been an easy, early flight out of Rome that left plenty of time to make it home by 3 pm, with a side trip to my sister's friend's graduation party ended up in a 30 hour travel ordeal, fueled on zero sleep since the three hours on Friday night and as much Diet Coke (not nasty Coke Light!) as could physically fit into my stomach. I missed America.
I showed up to the airport at 4 am Rome time, ready to check in. Online check in had failed, so I figured I'd just go to the desk. Well, the desk has no record of my reservation. What? This was taken care of way back in December, when there was that scheduling snafu caused by a random extra four-hour layover in Detroit. The ticket counter lady says she's just KLM, I have to wait until Delta's ticket counter opens, 6 minutes away by shuttle and not until a full hour after my flight leave. After a few frantic phone call home (I don't even want to know how much those calls are going to cost), I finally got the ticket lady to book me on the noon flight to JFK. Ok, 8 hours in the Rome airport. Tolerable. I ran into a few Centrisiti who looked horrified to see me, since we met an hour after I was supposed to have left. The Delta guy managed to confirm the reservation, so time to wait until 9:30 when pre-check in starts. For a country that doesn't really get lines, there sure were a lot of them now.
I made it safely on the JFK flight, no delays. Ran into a few more Centristi, who were also sympathetic to my sleep-deprived plight. Dear Kirsten let me borrow her phone to call home, for which I am eternally grateful. The JFK flight passed without incident - they even had Diet Coke since they were run by Delta! I could barely sleep on the plane (my seat didn't recline and I was still stressed), so I ended up watching the Green Hornet, Tangled, some movie with Lauren Graham about a kid in the psych ward, as well as Castle, 30 Rock, and the Parks and Rec about Twilight.
JFK was a mess getting through to the domestic terminal. Efficient, but painful. Line for customs, reclaim bags, walk past a guy who asks what food I brought (olive oil and paprika pringles) and who decides that my snacks and souvenirs are not a threat to national agricultural security, redrop backs, train to terminal 3, through security again in a building that had no air conditioning, then a four hour wait until departure. Manageable. I got some Burger King with American ketchup and a giant Diet Coke, and sat down to wait until my flight show up on the board and I can go to my gate. Finally, about two hours before take off, I head down to look at my flight, which has been delayed by 45 minutes. Great. I headed over to the gate (after being sidetracked and going to B23, not 23 and actually in terminal 2) and discovered that this building also lacked air conditioning. Back to the first place, which had a place where I could sit down, connect to the internet, vent my frustration on Facebook, and scrap a bit to reduce stress.
Come time for expected boarding, I went over to my gate to discover it won't depart until "9:45" EST, that planes have just been cleared to land, and they'll get us on as soon as our plane lands, deplanes, and gets cleaned and catered. Around 9:50, the planes gets here; 10:10, maintenance arrives. 10:30, we finally get on the plane to discover that it's a bitty little commuter plane, and everything has to be gate checked. After my bag of souvenirs is pried from my hands and the rage replaces my exhaustion, I spent the next half hour while we wait for "supplies" (which I suspect was either toilet paper or chips for first class, neither of which was worth the wait on a late night flight) wondering if, should the plane take off with my souvenirs still sitting next to the plane, I would get arrested if I get up and make them go back for it. The loaded it on (and I still had plans for filing for immense damages should so much as a book cover get bent out of place), and I went to sleep. Around 11:15, I wake up again and realize we still haven't moved. 11:45, and we finally take off. It was the most harrowing take off I've experienced - it seriously felt and looked more like we were launching into space above the Atlantic (or maybe it was a bay - geography is difficulty from this type of view). You could feel addition g's when we turned. Passed out again, and we landed at 2:45 CST. 30 hours later from my first arrival at the airport.
I am never flying Delta again. Nor will I use a travel agency ever again, since somehow there were two reservations that canceled each other out (I still haven't figured out what happened yet). I will never, ever fly through JFK. And quite frankly, I wouldn't might not leaving the country for another decade. Traveling should be fun. This, not so much.
I'll post my newest pages later.
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