Karma?

You have likely heard of the Law of Divine Reciprocity: What goes around comes around. Karma. And you may remember that in my most recent blog post, I spoke a bit harshly about the airline industry with its baggage fees, lack of food, and silly security policies. So I have to ask myself, "Could it be karma?"

Let me explain. Shulamith took me to the airport in plenty of time for my 7:30 flight to Denver Tuesday evening. She even parked her car and went in with me because her sweet Mathew was due to arrive back from New York at about the same time my plane took off. Everything seemed normal. My flight was listed as "on time." I made my way to the gate, where the monitor showed my "on time" flight to Denver scheduled to board in 30 minutes. Excellent.

Those 30 minutes came and went. And though the monitor still listed the flight as "on time," there wasn't an agent to be seen. Along with several others awaiting the flight, I began to worry. Then I tried to reassure myself. I had a 90-minute layover in Denver, so I should be okay, right?

Wrong.

Minutes passed. Finally, an agent arrived to inform us that our plane was on its way and should arrive in 15 minutes, and they would "turn it around" just as quickly as possible. Okay, fine. Those 15 minutes turned into 30, and the quick "turn it around" was anything but quick. By the time we were off the ground, it was a full hour later than our scheduled departure. This would give me at best only 30 minutes in Denver. Now I was scared. You see, Wednesday was the first day of my new semester at school. I had classes at 8:00, 9:10, and 11:30 a.m. I had to get to Billings.

You may have noticed that I'm not very good at accepting what I can't control. "Flexible" is NOT my middle name. Or my first name. Or my last name. Not sure it's even part of my vocabulary. Any attempt at relaxation during the flight was utterly futile because surely if I worried enough, my anxiety would make the plane fly faster. It was not a pleasant ride. Now you'd think that once we touched down in Denver, I could push my way off that plane and begin my marathon sprint through the "B" concourse from gates B88 to B37 where the plane to Billings would depart.

Nope, wrong again. Because of the fees to check baggage (see earlier post), most of us frequent fliers, myself included, do not check our bags. Instead, we take the biggest bag that qualifies as a "carry on," only these bags don't actually fit on the smaller commuter jets, and must be checked plane side and retrieved at the top of the jet way. So, as I considered that my plane to Billings might be pushing back at any second, I was forced to wait...and wait...and wait...and wait at the top of the jet way for my suitcase. Grrrrr.

Once the bag was retrieved, I made the familiar dash through the airport hoping against all hope that maybe my flight was delayed. If these people only knew that my classes started the following morning, surely they would wait! Wrong again. Panting breathlessly, I arrived at Gate B37 to find no one in sight. My flight was gone. The very last flight to Billings that night was gone. Fighting back tears, I called Gerald briefly to tell him, but of course he already knew because he is our family's would-be travel agent, who tracks every single detail of our flights whenever anyone travels. Had I called him as soon as I had my suitcase, I'm pretty sure he could have told me it was hopeless, but well, in desperation I really needed to make the run for it. Just in case. Just to know I did all I could.

Next, I called two colleagues from my school. I left voice mail for the first, and luckily, the second picked up. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. Once I related my tale of woe and explained that under no circumstances would I be in Billings for my first two classes the next day, she graciously admonished me to "Be safe." Barb, you cannot know what that simple phrase of kindness meant to me in that moment. I was crying yet again.

The next order of business was to make my way to the Customer Service desk where the line was thick and deep and turned out to be 90 minutes long. I was familiar with that line because Lindsey and I stood in it over a year ago with little Emma on our way to visit Celeste, when our delayed flight out of Billings caused us to miss our connection in Denver. But that's another story. At some point during the wait, a United Customer Service Rep. told us that if we were on the flight from Salt Lake City, we would receive hotel and food vouchers because the issue causing the delay was mechanical. I know I should have been thankful, but really, all I could think about was missing the first day of the semester and my students who would show up at 8:00 the next morning to find no teacher.

Vouchers in hand, I headed to Burger King, the only restaurant open that late. Others in my same situation joined me for a late dinner, and we all headed out into the bitter cold (-12 with wind chill) together to wait for the hotel shuttle. It arrived about 20 freezing minutes later and took us on the 30-minute jaunt to the Holiday Inn. Then there was yet another line to check in. Finally, at nearly 1:00 a.m., I was in my hotel room, a quite luxurious one at that. Problem is, I could hardly enjoy it since I needed to catch the 6:30 a.m. shuttle back to the airport the following morning. Fearing I would miss that shuttle, I barely slept.

The rest of the journey was beautifully uneventful. I arrived back in Billings in time to teach my 11:30 class. I wanted to say to my students: "If it looks like I slept in these clothes, it's because I did!" I don't pack clothes when I visit Shulamith because it's easier to just wear hers. Oh, and I don't pack make-up or hair products either because I can just use hers. If you'd like to imagine what I looked like that morning when I met my 11:30 class for the first time, I can assure you it's much worse that anything you are thinking.

Could it be karma? I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I won't be dissing the air travel industry again any time soon.