Why is it that lately my travels seem to be plagued by flight delays, cancellations, running across airports trying to catch flights, and excessive anxiety? Is it because I jinx myself by writing about it? This is twice in a row it’s happened now. I talk about how I hope things will go smoothly and then BAM – cue the chaos.
There I had sat, in a glow of happiness and excitement on my flight from Edmonton to Denver. Everything had gone relatively smoothly that morning. Alarms didn’t fail, showers where hot (or at least after restarting the failing system), the Uber showed up on time, customs was uneventful, and we boarded our on-time flight with Starbucks in hand.
And even during our layover in Denver, we sat in blissful ignorance, sipping beers at Sunset Loop (highly recommend this seemingly hidden surprise bar behind one of the Starbucks in terminal B). Totally unaware that in a few short hours we (along with the rest of the plane) would be frantic and panicking as 160 of us all fought to make our exceedingly tight connections.
We’d boarded our on-time flight from Denver with high hopes of making our 50 minute connection in Houston. We even had a lovely chat with the woman next to us – a two time survivor of Hodgkins Lymphoma who was moving back home after helping her daughter solo parent her grandchild while dad was away on military tour.
But then things took a turn for the worse as the plane door remained open…well after we should have been pushing back.
It was snowing. But, we were also in Colorado. Snow was familiar to them. A wonder then, how once we FINALLY got moving, it took them ages to de-ice the plane.
Then more delays as we waited for our turn to take off, stuck waiting on the tarmac with nothing more to do than refresh our flight app over and over trying to decipher whether or not there was some chance we’d make our flight.
But things weren’t looking promising.
And it wasn’t until an hour had passed that we were finally granted permission to take off. And after an engine rev, the smell of burning rubber filling the plane, and a very rocky ascent (and a bit of a descent that had us debating whether we’d have to make our last phone calls), we were in the air. (And would hopefully safely stay that way for the duration of the flight.)
The soft chatter amongst fellow passengers picked up as we neared Houston, even prompting the flight attendants to make an overhead announcement on what we were to do, upon arriving in Houston, if any of us needed to rebook our flights. I could hear the hopes of the family in front of us dashed as they watched their notifications inform them that their flight had already departed and now had to rebook their own flight for the next day. The woman next to us was also struggling to comprehend how she was going to make her flight that was due to depart 10 minutes after we touched down. (We felt bad to have to be the ones to tell her that sadly it looked like she was going to have to rebook as well).
But as we were contemplating our likely change in plans, wondering what fun was to be had on a Saturday night in Houston, we got a notification that our flight to San Salvador was also delayed. Our hopes quickly rose back up as we sat calculating how much time that would give us to run to our gate before boarding closed. It was only 5 minutes (which was better than the -15 minutes that we thought we had though!). I opened the airport map and studied our run route to the gate. It wasn’t far. An immediate right turn after the jetway, a left at the first main intersection, then it was the first gate on the left down that hall. Possible. It was totally possible.
As soon as the plane landed, and the world’s longest taxi to the gate occurred, we were ready. Even as we watched our notifications indicate “final boarding” was in process as we stood eagerly awaiting the door to the open, we maintained hope. We were close to the front too (thanks to A for thinking ahead and pre-booking our seats as close as he could get to the front to help us with our quick connection), so were ready to run.
And run we did, with a fellow passenger, also trying to make the connection, in tow. And what an all-out relief, as we tumbled into our finish line at the gate, gassed and out of breath, when we saw the open doors and the gate attendants informing us they were holding the flight for us. Celebratory cheers ensued, shared with the woman who ran with us. We had made it!
No overnight stay in Houston for us! (Although I’m sure that could have been fun.)
Next stop… San Salvador!
Happy Travels!
Teryn Warnke 
Leave a comment