Lessons Learned in Terminal C

So, I visited my family in Kansas this past weekend. My dad had open-heart surgery, and I helped my mom move him home from the hospital to recuperate.

My dad is recovering nicely, and the visit was lovely. M handled the kids’ full weekend-schedule with the ease of a professional nanny. Especially if that nanny relied on lots of fast food and had loose policies about TV time.

Kidding. Really, M and the kids did so well without me, I joked I didn’t even need to come home.

M said, “Ha ha. Get home. I need to be in Dallas in the morning.”

I was kidding about not coming home because I missed all my people so much. I couldn’t wait to see them. FaceTime is nice, but I hadn’t tucked my kids in for three nights. I needed the six thousand hugs they insist on giving to stall against bedtime.

That was the plan.

Until what happened in Terminal C.

Mom dropped me off at the airport the requisite hour before my flight. I’m a tiny bit of a nervous traveler because I’m always afraid I’ll do something incredibly stupid like drop my wallet and lose all my money. Or accidentally accept a package from an unknown person. So, when I entered the airport, I had on my game face.

Then I saw it.  And I knew something was very wrong in Terminal C.

Large groups of strangers were throwing up their arms. Women were yelling at their husbands. Young, hip, black men were asking old white women for clarification.

“Really?” the crowd asked each other. “Really? They’re CANCELLING the flight to Houston?”

“YES!” we all confirmed as our cell phones beeped, and we read the incoming email from United Airlines.

Right there in Terminal C: Flight. Cancelled.

Rescheduled for TOMORROW at the same time.

What was this? A Greyhound Bus schedule? How could my full-fare ticket on Sunday only be good to get me home an entire day later? I have four kids to care for, my husband has a job he’s been neglecting. WE HAVE TAPPED ALL OF OUR RESOURCES FOR FAVORS.

I usually don’t get mad because it gives me this horrible sensation I’m about cry and throw up at the same time. I hate it, so my immediate response is to always look on the bright side. Before I could even text M I wouldn’t see him for another 24 hours, I was already humming, “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow” under my breath.

But, wait, it gets worse.

It was finally my turn to talk to the ticket agent. The guy who could help me get home.

Me: Hi. I need to get to Houston tonight.

Ticket Agent: (without raising his eyes from his computer, where he was presumably playing Angry Birds): No flights.

Me: Really? No flights out from Kansas City to Houston at all?

TA: Not until tomorrow afternoon. Unless you want to wait for stand-by. But you won’t get on.

Me: (really wanting to play the four kids and my dad had open-heart surgery card, but worrying it would somehow blackball me with this grinch): I’m willing to fly on any airline and get in at any time. But please, I have to get to Houston.

TA: No flights. You can call Customer Service if you have a complaint. NEXT!

Obviously I didn’t call Customer Service. I called M, who thought I was joking. Then I called my mom to come and pick me up.

Suddenly I was so vulnerable. It was one of those moments when I realized how wrong things can go in an instant. Who knew flights just get completely cancelled? Who knew ticket agents could be so rude? Who knew I would probably end up crying right there in Terminal C?

M found a Southwest flight for me. Before we bought another really expensive ticket, I got back in line and tried another ticket agent.

My voice shook as I explained my situation. (Do I sound really fragile and spoiled in this story? Man, I hope not. And to be clear, most everyone else in the line was screaming at the ticket agents. And by the way, screaming was starting to look like a great idea since those people were getting booked on flights to Houston. Tonight.)

The Ticket Agent smiled and said, “I can get you into Chicago by 9:30 tonight.”

“Chicago is the complete opposite direction,” I pointed out. “Could you get me into Houston by 9:30 tonight?”

“There’s a connecting flight in Chicago, landing in Houston tomorrow morning at 1.”

He had done it. By way of Chicago, I was going to Houston.

Suddenly I was thanking him for profusely for sending me completely out of my way to get me home in the middle of the night.

But I would be home! Yeaaaa! I wanted to hug my new best friend, The Ticket Agent That Could.

Which was so crazy since First, Rude Ticket Agent had made it clear that getting to Houston tonight was impossible.

I gave Rude Ticket Agent a sidelong glance and asked my new best friend, “Why couldn’t he find a flight to Houston tonight?”

“Oh, him?” the Friendly Ticket Agent snarled, “He is very rude.”

Yes. Yes he was.

Now, I’m sitting in Chicago, waiting for my plane to take me to Houston.

Here’s what I learned in Terminal C of the Kansas City Airport: 1. Ticket Agents have a lot of power. Sometimes they’re a little hungry with it. 2. An airline can cancel a flight for no reason. 3. Chicago is not on the way to Houston, unless it’s the only flight, then it absolutely is. 4. Everyone reacts to bad news differently. Most people cuss a lot. 5. Terminal C had some long shoremen (sailors) heading to Houston. I now understand the phrase “cuss like a sailor” a little more vividly. 6. One family that was travelling together had to spread out onto different flights to get back to Houston. That guy’s wife is in Minneapolis right now. 7. If you’re about to cry and throw up at the same time, and your voice is shaking, the Nice Ticket Agent will give you 10% off any future travel with United.

Which is really handy…as long as they don’t cancel your flight.