Some of you may remember my woes when I was trying to return to the United States from my time in Ireland a few years ago. You'll probably remember that it didn't go well. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, just trust me on this one: it's a great story, but one to hear in person.
Anyway, yesterday I was embarking on my first trans-Atlantic journey since that lovely trip in 2010. It started off very promising. The sun was shining at the Rochester International Airport, my bags had been packed for several hours now, and I had just enjoyed a deliciously filling El Carambas lunch with a friend. Well, we arrive at the airport and unload the bags, when lo and behold, my first flight is delayed by an hour.
To give you a bit of perspective, my itinerary never really gave me much time between flights -- usually between 90 and 120 minutes. I had a flight from Rochester to Chicago, followed about two hours later by a flight from Chicago to London-Heathrow, followed about 1.5 hours later by my final flight to Athens You can see how delays make travelling on that itinerary significantly more difficult to deal with, particularly for trans-Atlantic flights. To say the least, I was a bit nervous.
After browsing the internet for a bit looking at potential options in case, you know, I miss my connecting flight in Chicago, I figured I may as well just go wait by the gate. We board the plane, then are told that our wheels-up time is being pushed back, due to bad weather in Chicago. Great. But, there's not a whole lot I can do, so I contentedly read SkyMall magazine. Twice.
7:31 PM: Finally! The 5:20 flight is leaving the ground now! So we're two hours late for a 1:55 layover... I may be a bit fuzzy in my math skills at times, but that doesn't seem to bode well for me. It turns out that our in-air time was only about 45 minutes (through thunderstorms, mind you), so we were de-planing in Chicago at 8:25. There's a chance, right! After all, my international flight isn't scheduled to leave for another ten minutes, and it's in a different terminal where I'll need to clear security again...
Luckily, British Airways was especially accommodating for me. Their ticketing agent must've seen the desperation in my eyes as I'm running up to the counter at 8:35, hoping the plane hasn't left yet. It hadn't. In fact, he is able to call over to the gate and have them hold the plane for me, and then he escorted me through employee-only areas of the airport, sped me through security, and got me to the gate in about three minutes.
Did I mention that I love British Airways now? I sat down in seat 22K, and within a minute, I am being offered a newspaper and a glass of water. After I have a chance to re-assess my surroundings, I realize that I'm literally the only person sitting in row 22. Yes, I have the entire row to myself. This'll be a nice flight. Top this off with a delicious dinner, several travel bottles of wine, and The Hobbit, and I'm golden.
Arriving in the London-Heathrow airport,I also had a bit of a tight connection, but luckily the plane to Athens was also running a bit late. I boarded without too much difficulty, and about three hours later I set foot on Athenian pavement, minus my checked luggage, which was presumably left behind in Chicago. Oh, the glories of air travel.
Anyway, yesterday I was embarking on my first trans-Atlantic journey since that lovely trip in 2010. It started off very promising. The sun was shining at the Rochester International Airport, my bags had been packed for several hours now, and I had just enjoyed a deliciously filling El Carambas lunch with a friend. Well, we arrive at the airport and unload the bags, when lo and behold, my first flight is delayed by an hour.
To give you a bit of perspective, my itinerary never really gave me much time between flights -- usually between 90 and 120 minutes. I had a flight from Rochester to Chicago, followed about two hours later by a flight from Chicago to London-Heathrow, followed about 1.5 hours later by my final flight to Athens You can see how delays make travelling on that itinerary significantly more difficult to deal with, particularly for trans-Atlantic flights. To say the least, I was a bit nervous.
After browsing the internet for a bit looking at potential options in case, you know, I miss my connecting flight in Chicago, I figured I may as well just go wait by the gate. We board the plane, then are told that our wheels-up time is being pushed back, due to bad weather in Chicago. Great. But, there's not a whole lot I can do, so I contentedly read SkyMall magazine. Twice.
7:31 PM: Finally! The 5:20 flight is leaving the ground now! So we're two hours late for a 1:55 layover... I may be a bit fuzzy in my math skills at times, but that doesn't seem to bode well for me. It turns out that our in-air time was only about 45 minutes (through thunderstorms, mind you), so we were de-planing in Chicago at 8:25. There's a chance, right! After all, my international flight isn't scheduled to leave for another ten minutes, and it's in a different terminal where I'll need to clear security again...
Luckily, British Airways was especially accommodating for me. Their ticketing agent must've seen the desperation in my eyes as I'm running up to the counter at 8:35, hoping the plane hasn't left yet. It hadn't. In fact, he is able to call over to the gate and have them hold the plane for me, and then he escorted me through employee-only areas of the airport, sped me through security, and got me to the gate in about three minutes.
Did I mention that I love British Airways now? I sat down in seat 22K, and within a minute, I am being offered a newspaper and a glass of water. After I have a chance to re-assess my surroundings, I realize that I'm literally the only person sitting in row 22. Yes, I have the entire row to myself. This'll be a nice flight. Top this off with a delicious dinner, several travel bottles of wine, and The Hobbit, and I'm golden.
Arriving in the London-Heathrow airport,I also had a bit of a tight connection, but luckily the plane to Athens was also running a bit late. I boarded without too much difficulty, and about three hours later I set foot on Athenian pavement, minus my checked luggage, which was presumably left behind in Chicago. Oh, the glories of air travel.
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