A Vegas virgin books a flight from hell

August 30, 2013 >>

It’s been a stressful couple of weeks. Some crazy family turmoil has wreaked havoc on my normally relaxed August.  But in a last minute change of plans, my on-again-off-again Labor Day weekend in Vegas was suddenly back on again. It's taken 43 years, but I'm finally popping my Vegas cherry.

I twiddled my thumbs through a half day at work. But at 2pm on the dot, I clocked out and dashed home. With my boarding pass loaded on my iPhone and lucky fedora in hand, I jumped a gypsy cab to JFK for my Friday night flight to Sin City. The travel gods seemed to be on my side as I sailed through traffic on the Van Wyck, breezed through airport security and boarded my flight without incident.

And then it all fell to shit.

We pulled away from the terminal on time but then sat on the tarmac for what seemed to be hours (it was actually only about 45 minutes). The pilot announced they were having difficulty with a light on their control panel. I broke out in what I assumed was a nervous sweat, but soon realized the vents were blowing hot air. The cabin temperature was rising as panic began to spread amongst a cabin full of irate New Yorkers. 

Now, New Yorkers are generally good-natured pragmatists. But get in the way of a weekend in Vegas and all bets are off. Especially when most have already knocked back a few at the airport bar and are sweating their balls off.   

It seemed likely a few of the more lubricated passengers might storm the cockpit when the captain finally came on the PA. He explained that the AC had been shut off in order to reset the mysterious, malfunctioning light. His explanation seemed to temporarily appease the group.

We sat in silence (and in our own sweat) for another fifteen minutes before receiving another announcement from the cockpit.

We’re heading back to the terminal. The technicians can’t repair the problem.

People started audibly cursing and groaning. But at least the AC was working again.

Another fifteen minutes passed before the next announcement.  

All the gates are full and we’ll have to wait on the tarmac until a gate opens up. 

I could feel the passengers' collective anger rising. I’m sure this is what the streets of LA felt like just before the Rodney King riots.

We sat for another ten interminable minutes before another announcement.  

Flights are backed up and all the gates are still full. Instead of sitting on the tarmac, we're taxi-ing to a landing pad where we’ll deboard onto the runway and buses will drive everyone back to the terminal.

  

Now people are pissed. The obnoxious young couple next to me (wife continuously answering and reading texts and husband with shoes off adjusting and picking at his crotch like he's got a bad case of crabs or the largest penis on earth stuffed into a mini thong) got on their cell phone and booked seats on another flight. But despite the announcement, our plane sat motionless on the runway for another fifteen minutes. And then we heard the disembodied voice of the captain again.

A gate has opened up at another terminal. So instead of busing you back to your original gate, we'll drive around to terminal 2 where you'll be given further instructions.

At least we weren't going to be emptied out onto the blazing tarmac to play chicken with passing airliners.

As we arrived at terminal 2, my annoying seatmates made a dash for the door, pushing aside mothers holding babies and an elderly woman in an attempt to make their next flight. But they're foiled in first class by the evil stewardess, who won't unlock the cabin door. Karma's a bitch.

Another announcement.

The technicians should be able to fix the problem pretty easily now that we're parked at the terminal. So this flight will likely depart later tonight.  'm just waiting to see if they'd like us to deboard or have you wait on the aircraft while they make the necessary repairs.

I'm pretty sure I've been teleported into an episode of Lost and am now languishing in purgatory. I probably should have taken those ten commandments more seriously. Oh well, I decided I'd just sit back, relax and bask in the glow of the rising tempers around me.

The ground crew has just asked that we deboard this flight as we make the necessary repairs. We ask that you please stay close to the gate for further instructions.  

There was suddenly a flurry of activity as overhead compartment doors swung open and carry-on luggage whizzed by. I sat patiently as panicked party-goers rushed out of the plane looking for alternate flight options. I was in no hurry since I knew the last flight to Vegas was long since sold out. I'd either wait and get on this flight or go home and head out again in the morning.

Another 30 minutes crawled by. Several passengers stake out stools at the nearby bar, drowning their disappointment in beer and Jäger shots.  Finally, we got another announcement.

Attention passengers on Delta flight 1629. We are changing aircraft and moving you to gate 61 where we will begin boarding your new flight at approximately 9:45. We apologize for any inconvenience.

Finally, after several hours of sitting, swearing and being shuffled around terminals, some definitive news. Our flight's angry mob of passengers proceeds en masse to our new gate on the other side of the terminal. My phone is at nearly 10% power but there's not an empty socket to be found. I turn off my phone so there will be enough power left to contact Trish when I arrive.

Three and a half hours after boarding my first flight, I'm finally on my way to Vegas.