Corbeau's Holiday Travel Adventure

My flight from Reagan left bright and early at 6:35, so I was at the airport at 5. Unfortunately, so we're all the people who had been trapped there on Friday from the ice storms. It was crazy. I've never seen such a crowd at the airport. A little after 6 I managed to get my bag checked and booked it to the terminals.

The last time I ran in an airport was when I was 16 and we were trying to make a connection at O'Hare. That experience led to my traveler's creed of "Never EVER connect through O'Hare, even if they reroute you through Detroit."

Anyway, I managed to make my flight, only to sit for 20 minutes on the tarmac at JFK, which was still icy and nasty. Since I only had an hour layover, this was a little stressful. Finally they took us to one of those walkways outside, because the wait for a gate would be another 40 minutes. I walked carefully across the ice, but once inside, the race was ON!

You should have seen me. I made excellent time, especially on those moving walkways. I made it to the international terminal just as my flight was boarding, so I even had time for the bathroom. That's how fast I was.

I was so proud of myself for making that connection.

Oh yes I was.

And then we sat inside the plane, on the tarmac, for the next five hours.

FIVE. FREAKING. HOURS.

Forget waterboarding, we should stick terrorists in an enclosed space with a looping Christmas mix until they attempt to break their own eardrums.

At first the baggage cart was delayed because of the ice. Then there was a light out in the cockpit. It's the light that let's the pilot know that the landing gear is down, so it was an important light. But it took two hours to change out. Something about removing a panel.

Then we had to wait for the de-icing truck, which took another few hours. And by the time we finally go de-iced, we couldn't take off because London Heathrow has a very strict curfew and no planes can land between midnight and 6. So they had to file new paperwork which would take another hour and a half.

Fortunately at this point they let us off the plane. Which was good because I starting to freak out. Between the music, the screaming baby (the plane wasn't even moving! What were they doing to that kid to make it scream for hour after hour?) and the fascinating odours coming from the guy in front of me I was starting to lose it.

After we got back into the terminal they gave us free meal vouchers so could have lunch, and then they decided that we would just wait until Heathrow opened again, another 5 hours. But at least we spent those hours in the terminal, where they have tv, and ice cream, and leg room.

We got back on the plane at 6. We were supposed to leave at 6:30, but had to wait another hour for the de-icing truck, apparently the only one for the entire wretched airport.

So my flight, which was supposed to leave at 8:55 am, took off at 7:45 pm.

My new travel motto is, "Never travel on 3 hours of sleep, no matter how many times your friends tell you that you can sleep on the plane."

Hopefully BSA fared better, although the last time I heard from her, she was stuck in Baltimore.