Babies on a Plane

Well, I'm still alive, but I think we're all a little worse for wear at this point. The airline industry really managed to screw us over – but what else is new?

No sleep Monday night...I got out of the shower to discover that I couldn't read (or rather, all the letters on the page kind of ran together so I couldn't make them out). Which of course meant I was about a half hour away from a major migraine. I took a happy pill and hopped into bed, hoping I could sleep, but no such luck. Ouch.

We started out on Tuesday morning at the crack of dawn. Upon arrival at the airport, we discovered, yay, our flight had been canceled! US Airways claimed "mechanical problems"; I call "the plane wasn't full enough for them." The next flight to Philadelphia would still have been okay, but it was badly delayed. Plus, apparently it was raining in Philadelphia or something? If you live in Philadelphia, I say you live in a bad bad city.

So, we got diverted to Harrisburg. I don't know where that is, but I can tell you where it's not...in Philadelphia, where my flight to Venice was taking off at 5:50. We landed in Harrisburg at about 5 to refuel. After lots of fiddling around, we finally took off again for Philadelphia at about 6 (did I mention the flight to Venice took off at 5:50? and that there's only one flight to Venice each day? And if we missed this one flight we'd miss our cruise?). Then we circled and circled and circled Philadelphia. Finally got on the ground at 7.

Allow me a digression to say that, well, US Airways sucks. It sucks a lot. Its personnel are rude and grumpy, and they take out their problems on their passengers. (Yes, Ms. Flight Attendant, we understand that you weren't supposed to be working that day. We get it. That sucks. Meanwhile, could you try not biting off the passengers' heads? Maybe?) The worst part was that we were concerned about missing our flight to Venice, but they were uniformly unhelpful...they claimed they couldn't find out information about the flight, but I don't buy it – I've been on tons of other flights that were running late, and they made announcements about people's connections. They did say there would be a liaison waiting when we left the plane to direct us and to provide us with a cart to drive us over to the gate.

There was no one waiting, and there was no cart. There also was no information. So, I turned into a monumental bitch, shoved my way to the front of a line, and the attendant had no idea what was going on. He told me the gate but didn't know if the flight was still there or not.

I took off, leaving my family looking after me in bewilderment. I ran like I've never run before. I'm pretty sure I heard the theme to Chariots of Fire playing. I think I must have looked totally majestic and not at all like the family in Home Alone when they're all lurching through O'Hare.

I ran through terminal after terminal, from A to B to C, looking for someone to drive me but finding nothing. And then, suddenly, I was at the gate. The very deserted, very dark gate.

Where a lone flight attendant was closing the door to the walkway. "STOOOOOOOP!" I screamed.

We got on the flight. :)


The flight was nice. We pulled out from the gate right after we boarded, but we sat on the runway waiting to take off for about 2 hours. I think I even slept for about three hours.

Oh, by the way? Offering a choice of movies between RV and Shaggy Dog? That doesn't really count as a choice. They did also have House Hunters on for a while (best. show. ever.), but suddenly the channel changed to golf. Ugh.

Well, anywho, we arrive in Venice, and it's lovely. The descent in was truly incredible.

I've driven down in several times before, but this is the first time I've flown in – the view of the Alps, and then the fields and vineyards and terra cotta roofs and the sparkling sea beyond...it's fantastic.

Then it was time to pick up the luggage. I know you know how this story ends, and I kind of knew it too, but after that miraculous save of our flight, I was clinging to a little sliver of hope.

Of course the bags weren't there. And of course this is Italy, and of course service sucks, and of course no one at the airport was terribly helpful. We filled out a claim and are desperately hopeful that the bags will come at some point.

I felt okay about it, even going a day wearing the same clothes I've been wearing since Tuesday morning at 6 (eeeeeeeew!)...even without any makeup...with no hairbrush...no good walking shoes...no hair conditioner (do you know what happens to my hair without conditioner? It is currently staging a hostile takeover of the ship. I think it's winning!)...um...where was I? I don't think I'm that okay with it after all. See, I know what happened...they just didn't have time to get the bags on our plane, given that the connection was so tight, and so our bags will be on the flight that arrives tomorrow.

Except that I talked to the concierge about it so she could track our bags for us. When we told her our bags didn't make it, she said, "Oh, you must have been on US Airways." Gee, how did you know that? "It's always US Airways. The cruise before this 460 people didn't get their bags!" Oh, you mean at the airport? "No, they never got them. Who knows where they are!"

She didn't seem to think we would be seeing our luggage. Like, ever again. Apparently US Airways sucks for bags and the Venice Airport sucks even more. Bye-bye five pairs of jeans. Bye-bye new cute shirts. Bye-bye all my evening gowns (and bye-bye being permitted to attend the ship's formal events...formal events such as, um, DINNER). Bye-bye to all the baby's clothes and diapers. Maybe she can be potty trained in the next day or so. At 8 months. It could happen, right?

Anywho...so that's put a bit of a damper on everything. I'm trying to be a grown-up about it, move past it if the bags don't come and make the best of it I can. Maybe I can find some clothes in Croatia if the bags don't arrive tomorrow ('cuz who doesn't love them some hot Croatian fashions?). And I totally didn't cry when I got out of the shower and tried in vain to comb through my 900 pounds of hair with only my fingers.

Here's hoping for good news tomorrow!