Adventures in Cincinnati

I had a good two or three posts for last week, but Blogger and I kept having scheduling conflicts. Anytime I was able to blog, Blogger was down. Anytime Blogger was up was a time I wasn't on-line. Go figure. And then I had to travel to Buffalo on Thursday, thus preventing me from blogging until today, when I'm back in Colorado. So the next few posts were originally supposed to be up last week. But not this one. This post had no presence in my mind until I landed in Cincinnati Thursday night.

Last week in general wasn't grand because Mark left ahead of me for Buffalo since when the flights were booked, it was possible I would be working last week and not able to get the time off. As it turns out I wasn't working, and I spent the week husband-less and hearing about his great time with his family in Buffalo. Doesn't make for happy days. Thus I was very eager to be getting on the plane Thursday evening. Because I wanted to get to Buffalo as quickly as possible, I invoked a few nasty clauses of Murphy's Law.

The plane for the flight out of Denver was 45 minutes late getting to Denver. And then a weather cell decided to hang around the airport, keeping us grounded on the runway for another 45 minutes. Add in all the usual delays of deplaning and planing, and we got off the ground almost two hours after we were supposed to. It's a good thing that I called Mark as soon as I heard the plane was late getting into Denver. I only had an hour to make my connection in Cincinnati, so I had called to give everyone a head's up that Bad Things May Be Afoot.

We land in Cincinnati probably just as the plane bound for Buffalo took off. You'd think Delta would've held that plane, seeing as how it was the last one that night and wouldn't it be cheaper to hold a couple planes for a half hour instead of putting a hundred or so people up for the night? But no, they sent all those last flights out of Cincinnati on their merry ways. As soon as I turned my cell phone on when the plane landed, Mark called to tell me that they had already called Delta and were told that I would be staying in Cincinnati that night and would get on a flight the next morning to Buffalo--via Atlanta. This stroke of genius by Delta had me arriving in Buffalo at 1:10PM. And the whole purpose of my visit was for a wedding that started at 1PM. My mother-in-law yelled at Delta after learning this and got nothing but attitude back, including the gem "Well, if she doesn't like this new itinerary, she can fly back to Denver." I tried yelling at the Delta people and was told that every other flight to Buffalo on Friday was booked, including competitor comparably priced flights. When the Ice Queen Ticketing Agent brushed me off, while holding my bag hostage (they said I could get my bag, but it would take a lot of time and effort and would make it more difficult for me to get my bag on the right flight on Friday), I decided to just accept my fate of missing the wedding.

I should mention that I was hopped on Dramamine at the time. And the original formula to boot, not the non-drowsy one. I should also mention, to borrow a line from the fabulous movie Clueless, that I was surfing the crimson wave and all the various accoutrements necessary for such an occurrence were safely stashed in my bag. The one I couldn't get to. Not to mention the fact that my glasses were in there as well, right along with my contact solution. Were it not for a kind-hearted passenger staying at the Hilton with me that night, I would've been both blind and very unsanitary on Friday. As it was, I was only blind.

Fortunately, said kind-hearted passenger graciously offered to help me around Cincinnati so I didn't have to squint continuously. And it turned out she was on a 9:15 DIRECT flight to Buffalo. Funny how Delta had no problem getting her on that flight when it was supposedly booked for a piddly peon blind menstruating customer like myself. But, like the dutiful flier I am, I went right up to the gate for the Hated Flight to Buffalo Via Atlanta anyway. I asked the agent there about getting me on the 9:15 flight, prepared to do battle. The agent, however, took about ten seconds to confirm she could indeed get me AND my bag on that flight. And as she printed out my boarding card, I finally squinted at the letters behind her and realized I wasn't at the Hated Flight to Buffalo Via Atlanta Gate at all. I was at the Cancun gate. I almost asked to get on that flight instead.

So I made it to Buffalo by 11AM on Friday, raced to Mark's parents' place, hurried through a shower, and made it to the wedding on time. Where I had to last through a two-hour Catholic wedding on four hours sleep, a barely remembered breakfast (total cost of $12, and Delta only gave me a voucher for $4), and yet another dose of Dramamine pumping through my system. Life is never dull.

Oh, and guess how many empty seats I counted on that booked solid flight to Buffalo. Four. I don't know who at Delta decided to *#$% around with me on Thursday night, but he's going to be a character in a book who comes to a rather embarrassing and unfortunate end.