Making the most of it
February 2nd, 2022
I was excited, because today was the day I was finally flying to Mexico! I’ve been waiting for this trip for so long, and today it was finally happening! Also, it’s currently 11:30pm as I write this from a dogshit hotel room in Houston, Texas…
You see, there’s no direct flights from Orlando to Oaxaca. My first flight was from Orlando to Houston, then I had a one hour layover, followed by a second flight from Houston to Oaxaca. Coincidentally, both flights were scheduled to be two hours and forty one minutes. What are the odds of that?! Anyway, that’s not what happened.
The first leg went off without a hitch, safe for the fact that I didn’t get to finish Dune because they had to make it so friggin’ long. I only had about ten minutes left when the flight de-boarded, and the damned flight attendants wouldn’t let me stay on the plane after it was parked to finish it. Bastards.
It was about a nine minute walk to my next gate, so I strolled over and plopped down, ready for a fifty one minute wait. After about forty five minutes, they announced a delay. Here we go. Rather than depart at 4:45pm as scheduled, we were now taking off at 6:45pm. Fuck. I hate waiting around.
And elderly woman sitting nearby asked what the announcement was, so I broke the frustrating news to her. We chatted for a moment and I learnt that she’s just about completely deaf, so she couldn’t hear the gate’s PA system. Her name’s Ruth, I’d guesstimate she’s in her mid-80’s, and she’s been to Oaxaca every year since 2005. This is her first time travelling alone, though. She works for the federal government in the education department, and goes down to Oaxaca to bring books for their local libraries. She was a real sweetheart, but really bad at hearing and using technology.
After chatting for a couple minutes, I eventually went back to my phone screen; the ideal place for wasting time. An hour went by, then another, and the 6:45pm flight was changed again to 7:45pm. Great. They offered a bit more information this time around: apparently, the pilot and crew were on a delayed flight from Dallas, and would only be landing at an undesignated later time. Again, I explained to Ruth what was announced, because she can’t hear shit.
A little while later, they informed us that the pilot from that earlier Dallas flight had landed, but he clocked out and went home, so they were on the lookout for a last-minute replacement pilot. I picture an airport employee just running around asking anyone in a pilot hat if they wanted to grab an overtime shift. To be honest, I’m not sure why one of them couldn’t just give us a ride, but OK. As you can probably guess, the flight was eventually delayed until the following day. Hence why I’m writing this from this godforsaken shithole hotel in Houston. There’s no hot water and the TV doesn’t turn on.
Funny enough, I’ve had this happen once before. In all my travels, I’ve had only one flight postponed until the next day, ONE time, while travelling from Oklahoma City to Miami, with a layover in, you guessed it, Houston! In fact, they put me up in this exact same shithole hotel that time, too. I’m starting to really dislike the Ramada Intercontinental East.
This is where things get interesting, though. After announcing the delay, the airline sent me a link as a text directly to my phone, where I could make a hotel reservation. It took me all of two minutes to do, but as I was collecting my things and getting ready to head out, I noticed that Ruth was not having the same luck. Not only was she not great with that dang touch-screen phone, but this wasn’t a connecting flight for her. She’s from Houston, therefore she wasn’t offered a free hotel like I was. Locals were just told to go home. However, Houston is a big city, and she lives 60 miles from the airport, and took an $80 Uber there. Plus, the flight was delayed until 7:00am the following morning, meaning she’d get home in time to turn around and come right back. I couldn’t let that happen to my gyal.
As I tried helping her, a hero named Callie, a middle aged woman approximately my mom’s age with a yoga mat sticking out of her carry-on, jumped in. Callie and her husband Dan, as it turns out, are also travelling to Oaxaca, for their daughters wedding. After chatting, I learnt that their daughter is an artist who moved there two years ago to open an art studio. They put me in touch with her so I can get some art recommendations when I eventually get there! Callie and Dan are from Oregon, formerly from Pittsburgh and Indiana, and Dan works in juvenile reform. They both seemed like really good people who do really good things.
Luckily, Callie took the helm of Project Ruth by speaking to customer service agents and getting on the phone with airline representatives. Another older couple, approximately the same age and profile as Callie and Dan, briefly joined the effort to help, but saw how things were going with customer service, and opted to slip away before getting too committal. Many hours later, I would end up right behind them at the hotel check-in line. It’s kind of like when someone zooms around traffic with maximum effort, only to end up right next to you again at the next red light.
After about two hours of downloading apps on an elderly woman’s phone, calling customer service reps, and waiting around for hotel shuttles, we got Ruth all set up at another hotel down the street. I waited around for a shuttle, and after dropping everybody else off, I finally got to the hotel, 7 hours after landing in Houston. After a final excruciating forty five minute line at the hotel front desk, I’m now in my room.
According to my credit card policy, I have $500 to spend on food and accommodations if a flight gets delayed, but my hotel’s been covered by the airline and it’s after 11pm, so there’s nothing I can order. I figured I could just grab something from the mini bar, but there isn’t one. What a waste of a potentially free ball-out meal! Instead, my only option was a Dominos pizza with three waters, because all I’ve consumed today is a bag of chips and a beer. I had to pay cash, because they don’t accept Canadian credit cards, meaning I probably won’t get reimbursed for that, either. Also, when the food arrived, instead of the three waters, they gave me one Fanta. I don’t drink soda. Today can suck a dick.
It’s almost midnight and my alarm is set for 5:00am. I’m meeting Callie and Dan in the lobby at 5:45 so that we can share a taxi back to the airport.
All in all, today was filled with mostly frustration, but it’s been a minute since I made organic connections such as these, and there’s a silver lining to going through an ordeal with other humans that was kind of nice. Ruth and I exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up next week in Oaxaca to check out an exhibit on Mexican murals. Callie and I also exchanged numbers, and I may end up going to their daughter’s wedding. For a day of eating shit, I also made new friends, gained a story to tell, and watched 95% of a pretty decent movie.
