It's been quite a day, to say the least. Since it's 1:30 in the morning and nothing has gone quite how I planned it to, this will likely be brief (or maybe not). What follows is Charlotte's Travel Saga, Part One, or: How I Left My House at 11 AM and ended up at La Quinta Inn LAX 22 Hours Later.
My flight left SFO on time, 1:24 PM, bound for LAX. I sat next to the two cutest little girls on the plane, sisters, one was going into 6th grade and one 2nd. They kept asking what I was going to do in Hawaii (that's where they were going after their connection). Adorable.
In LA, there was a minor speed bump: the plane I was on was getting in late from Beijing and would be delayed about half an hour. My layover was already three hours, but since I had gotten in early and would now be departing late, it ended up being about four hours. Which was fine, but felt like it would be long.
It was long. The only problem was, as we crept closer to the supposed departure time (6:30), we started to notice that something was not quite right. Flights were not leaving. Any of them. Finally we had a representative come on the speaker telling us that the United computers had crashed and we had to wait it out until they were online before we could do anything--check-in, change seats, board the plane. A quick google search told me this was not just an LAX thing; this was nationwide. Awesome.
As the hours crept by and I slowly realized I would likely be able to watch the Giants game after all (with a 7:10 start time), it became more apparent that I was also likely not going to make it to London anytime soon. At least not in time to make the walking tour of the city we were supposed to have tomorrow (today?). I was with 3 other girls who are also in my program, 1 of whom I'd met but the other 2 I hadn't. They are LA locals, so their Plan B was going home for the night. I had no such plan. (One of the girls actually had a panic attack because of the delays and such; I guess I should call myself lucky.)
I went to charge my phone and watch the Giants game down the terminal a bit and sat next to this young couple watching a movie. Around 9:30 or so (yes, this was 3 hours later), the girl's excited brother came running over to say the computers were back. We were in the money. The flight to Sydney that had also been grounded at the gate next to ours was starting to board. I almost skipped to the gate in excitement.
It was short-lived. The United representative came on the speaker again and said that because of how long we had had to wait, the crew members were not legally allowed to run the flight anymore--the flight was cancelled. Since the other girls hadn't transferred, they were instructed to collect their bags, go home, and call an 800 number to be rebooked. Since I was in the middle of a connection, I was instructed to go to the customer service table and talk to an agent, who would rebook my flight and give me a hotel voucher for the night. I said goodbye to the girls and went to the counter.
The line itself was about as long as a busy day at the security checkpoint--long, but when it moves quickly shouldn't be much trouble. Problem was, it didn't move quickly. I was relatively towards the front, probably around the third bend of people, and I was standing there for two. hours. This was the worst part of my day, hands down. There were TWO agents behind the counter, just two, and for whatever reason it took them a minimum of 15 minutes to help each customer. There must have been almost 100 people in this line. It was agony. I felt particularly sorry for a young couple with twin newborns in a double stroller. They'd been there for 8 hours, just like the rest of us. People started getting testy. At one point the line of angry people formed a little mini-riot and started yelling; I felt like I was on the Titanic, when they bust down the gate that they're locked behind. Truthfully, I was a little scared.
Finally, FINALLY, I reached the front of the line, and right then a third teller decided to show up, and she helped me. I don't know how it happened--I overheard at least five people in front of me get told that there was no flight out until Monday--but she was able to book me on a flight leaving tomorrow at 3:55, arriving in London on Sunday morning. It was the last available seat. I was praising Jesus for that one; looks like reading The Screwtape Letters in line really helped me out.
Anyway, ticket and hotel voucher in hand, I headed over to the La Quinta Inn LAX, a place I never thought I'd be checking into at 1 in the morning. Or ever. The line was yet again out of control; apparently that's where every airline had been sending their customers. I met a man trying to get from Oklahoma to SFO (Go Giants) who missed his flight by 15 minutes, a woman coming back from Beijing (that same plane that was supposed to be mine that got in late) who missed her connection to Portland, and an Australian guy about my age who had flown from Sydney to Beijing to here (same flight as the woman) and then missed his connection to Philly. It was madness.
Ultimately, I made it. When the man behind the counter handed me room 828, I knew my luck had changed. Despite the security guard in the hallway, this place actually isn't too bad. I think it's also the first time I've ever stayed in a hotel completely alone--look at me all growing up. I can't imagine what's going on back at the airport. The way that line was moving, it was looking like it'd take people at least 3 hours to get through them all. I feel very lucky to have gotten that last seat; looks like I may actually make it to London after all (I was worried there for a bit). Here's praying for a much easier experience tomorrow, but hey, at least it was an adventure. I can promise you lots more over the next month.
Stay tuned!
-Charlotte
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