Not the way to end a trip

For the first time in my seventy one years of living, I am spending the night in an airport. Specifically, the Philadelphia International Airport.

After months of planning, three of my college pals: Steve Boone, Dan Callow, Steve Hodge, and I traveled to Oshkosh, Wisconsin for the Experimental Aviation Association Airshow. If you have an appreciation of airplanes, from July 22 to July 28, that was the place to be.

We arrived in Oshkosh on the afternoon of Tuesday, July 23. Airlines transported us to Chicago O’Hare from Baltimore, Charlotte, and Richmond. Our arrivals into O’Hare were uneventful, and we experienced no significant hitches with our car rental.

Our three days of being overwhelmed at the air show were glorious.

We walked, and walked, and walked. On Wednesday eight miles, Thursday nine miles, and by Friday we wised up—we used the tram.

We explored.

We listened.

We learned.

We interacted with strangers from America and around the world.

We marveled at what Orville and Wilbur and other innovators sparked.

At the afternoon airshows, we were like kids watching the supersonic American fighter jets perform jaw dropping maneuvers. Those gravity defying maneuvers would have caused me to lose my lunch.

My old ears were thrilled to hear the radial engine sounds from World War II planes. Propeller driven fighters, bombers, trainers, and cargo planes were part of that unmistakable sound.

And just to make life interesting, we revisited our freshman year of college. For four nights, two dorm rooms in the Taylor Residence Hall on the campus of the University of Wisconsin at Oshkosh was our place to snore.

We were good boys in our two dorm rooms. Unlike what we might have been fifty years ago, we kept our mischievous whims, goofiness, or looniness under control.

But, we did laugh. We can still make each other laugh, and that is a priceless gift.

I had signed up to run in the Runway 5K with its 7 a.m. start time on Saturday morning. This year, the 5K proceeds were to benefit the Father Carr’s Place 2B. Here is the nonprofit’s Mission Statement:

As a Life Enrichment Center, we are driven by Christian values to provide a sense of community and support for people in need. We strive to foster hope self-worth and self-sustaining life, through housing, food, health care, educational programs and volunteer opportunities.

My pals calculated that if I finished the 5K in thirty minutes, I would be able to shower, finish packing, grab breakfast, and be ready to depart for Chicago by 9:30.

They were correct. I finished in 30:24, and we were loaded into the car before 9:30. Dan did a super job of shuttling me to the 5K.

For this trip, we had rented a Tesla. Dan and Steve Boone calculated a price comparison, and the Tesla wasn’t a bad deal. You should have seen those guys figuring out how to operate the car. Their excitement was like two kids with an erector kit on Christmas morning.

We arrived at O’Hare with time to spare. We determined our rail transportation stops for our terminals. Dan was in United, the rest of us in American. Dan would be the first to fly out. We said our goodbyes to Dan, and those remaining rode a short distance to the American terminal.

The two Steves and I would be flying out within minutes of each other in a 4:45 to 5:00 p.m. time slot.

I should have taken my check-in to American Airlines as a foreshadowing for the rest of the trip. My pre-approved TSA check in number was not on my ticket.

This caused me to go through the normal TSA line twice. Yes, I am not a good traveler without my Commander Supreme by my side.

Eventually, my check-in worked out, and I caught up with the two Steves at a food court near our gates. We ate lightly and chatted for an hour. Then, we realized it was time to get ready to say our goodbyes and wait at our gates.

At my gate, my unsettled feeling continued—no plane was parked at the jetway.

Getting into Philadelphia, I knew I would need to hustle to make it to the terminal for my next flight. When our plane finally arrived, it took time to unload and load back up. Taxiing out to the runway seemed to take a couple of days. Prior to taking off, the pilot said something about making up the lost minutes in the air, but that didn’t happen.

When we landed in Philadelphia, one member of the flight crew made an announcement for passengers to stay seated until those who needed to make a critical connection could exit the plane.

Fortunately, the passengers complied. The young lady beside me was trying to get to a New York flight. We took off for the designated spot where a shuttle bus would take passengers to the correct terminal.

Navigating the back passageways of an old airport is a challenge. The bus driver had to make multiple time-consuming turns and stops, but finally we were dropped off at the terminal. I quickly made my way to the assigned gate.

My plane was still sitting on the tarmac, but the door to the jetway was closed, and the jet had disconnected from it.

And of course, the representative from American ignored my request to call the jet back.

I walked over to another desk where two American employees had the responsibility of working with grumpy passengers who had missed their connections.

Another passenger was trying to get to Richmond too. He decided to rent a car. This nice young man offered me a ride to Richmond. In the chaos of my travel weary mind, I pondered the proposal for a few seconds, and politely declined.

I turned my attention to the young lady who would be responsible for rebooking a flight for me. Since, American would not take the blame for this miscue, they offered me no hotel room for the night.

I told her I wasn’t going to take my angry frustration out on her, but that I would at some point let American Airlines know what I thought about this shameful performance.

Our youngest daughter, Elizabeth had been tracking my movements, and she had screen shots of all my departure times. These screen shots noted both flights to be on time. Clearly, those postings didn’t match what I and others were experiencing in real time.

I was booked on a 6 a.m. flight out of Philadelphia to Charlotte on Sunday morning, I started looking for a place to get something to eat. I found one place open. I purchased a muffin and a bag of chips.

When my munching was over, I moved to a countertop near my gate and set up my laptop. For the next several hours, I caught up on emails from home and work, and I tried to write.

At one point, a large group of passengers from a very late plane marched through the empty corridor.

In my roaming, I came across other stranded passengers who had found creative, but uncomfortable ways to try and sleep.

Occasionally, a single weary passenger would make a repetitive pattern of walking through a section of the terminal.

Cleaning crews fell into three categories: vacuuming carpet, cleaning and restocking restrooms, and running a high speed floor machine over worn terrazzo and tile floors.

The guy who did all of the vacuuming was on a phone call. Nothing violent or threatening was being said, but the ‘f’ word was frequently the foundation of his vocabulary.

Toward dawn, I walked the terminal some more, and I came across a group of TSA agents prepping for Sunday morning.

Slowly, the early morning workers for food stands began to appear, but I opted to wait until I arrived in Charlotte to find some nourishment.

Several minutes before 6, we started loading the plane. I was in the second to last group to load. I found my seat.

During the last minutes before departure, I noted that the flight wasn’t full. So, I asked a flight attendant if I could move to an empty row across from me for a window seat, and he obliged.

For most of the flight to Charlotte, I was comatose. I welcomed that much needed sleep. Once off this plane, I had a fifteen minute walk to my next gate. The terminal where my plane would depart was torn up in a renovation project. The ceiling tiles and floor coverings were gone.

I found a food stand with breakfast items. I purchased a sausage, egg, and cheese croissant and washed it down with a bottle of apple juice. Oh, how I needed that.

The jet from Charlotte to Richmond was a tiny commuter, a CRJ900, two rows with two seats in each row. Again, I slept a deep sleep.

The descent into Richmond brought into view familiar landmarks. Soon the jet’s tires scuffed the runway, and the pilot nudged the plane toward the terminal.

Waiting for me inside was a special treat, our son Andrew, and his two daughters. I was thrilled to see them, and the girls told me they had a treat in the car for me—a doughnut from Country Style Doughuts.

Even better, my checked bag was in the American office. Interesting that my checked bag made the original flight from Philadelphia. I wonder if that means American Airlines cares more about baggage arriving on time than human beings arriving on time?

I’m not sharing this next story with you to brag or boast, but it might barely help to make a point.

Earlier today in the 5K, I was very close to the final turn heading toward the finish line.

There was a young lady to my left. All of a sudden, she stopped running. She appeared to be a middle schooler or maybe a freshman in high school.

I gently encouraged her to finish out the race. I told her to slow down and pace with me. I also conveyed that she could pace with me and then sprint ahead to the finish line. For whatever reason, she listened. As we approached the finish line, I reminded her to sprint, and she did.

When I crossed the finish line, the young lady found me, and thanked me.

Makes me wonder what might have happened to my missed flight if someone from American Airlines had taken an extra minute to think through the outcome for the passengers who were hustling through the airport to make a connection.

My gut tells me if the decision maker had put a five minute hold on the plane’s departure, I would not be sharing this story with you.

I wonder how many disappointing life experiences might have been made better or avoided by taking the time to pause and think.

Whether we want to admit it or not, time is at the crux of everything we do. Time is the most valuable thing in the world.

In the days I have left, I pray I can become better at using my time wisely, not just for me, but also for those I encounter along the way.