Just for the record, this isn’t a bomb threat. Just kidding it is. But seriously, it’s not.
I had possibly the worst day of my life yesterday. I’m not the kind of person to rate my days as good or bad, but I can sincerely say that it was awful. Everything that could go wrong did, and everyone was extremely unhelpful and wanted to kick me when I was down. I must have had some bad karma saved up and it was thrown onto me all in one day.
I was getting ready to go home (Canada is my home now I guess!) to see my Paulywog (I’m his Lilypad in case you’re wondering). My flight was set for departure at 1:30pm. There were intense storm warnings the night before, which I chose to ignore because what’s more powerful than love? Apparently weather. Weather is more powerful than love. I GUESS I can kind of see why Storm was a decent X-Man (X-Men? X-Woman?) now. I used to think that having the power to control weather would’ve been so lame. Like, if you’re going to be a mutant, have an awesome power like telekinesis or invisibility or something. Not the ability to make it rain.
My mom and brother drove me to the airport and told me that if my flight was delayed or cancelled to call them right away so they could turn around and come get me. We live about forty minutes away from the airport, so it would’ve been a long journey for them to come back and forth if they had already arrived home.
I checked in, my flight was set to depart on time, and everything was dandy. We boarded on time, and we sat there. And sat there some more. And sat there some more, just for good measure. This is when things started to go awry. I looked at my phone and the time said 2:30pm. The captain had made an announcement that we had to wait in line to get de-iced. The power on our plane shut off a couple of times, and on top of that, the runway was shut down. I asked the flight attendant how much longer he thought the wait would be.
“I can’t say. I’m not sure. It depends.”
You’re the worst. I whispered under my breath.
I decided to get off, because I didn’t think I would make my connection in time. These people were hopeless. They were making jokes about putting on a movie while we waited. Missing a connection is no laughing matter! So I de-boarded.
As soon as I got through the exit, I heard an announcement: “Flight blah blah, final boarding.” Flight blah blah was my flight. And it was leaving now. I could still make it. Of course it would leave as soon as I got off. So I ran to the gate, and through security for a second time. I made it, called my mom once I was on the flight, and she reminded me that my connection in Toronto was in Eastern time. I wouldn’t make it. I de-boarded for a second time, told them to remove my luggage, and to cancel my reservation.
I found someone in the baggage area and told him my predicament. He said that until I make another reservation, my bag will be kept in the back. I asked, “What if I don’t make another reservation?”
” Haha! Well then you’ll have to call a number to retrieve it.”
“Is there anyone else I can talk to besides you?” I asked.
“They’ll all tell you the same thing.”
I felt like I had no choice but to take a taxi home. The taxi driver took forever and didn’t really seem to care about my sad predicament. Rude.
When I got home my mom was shocked that I left my bag at the airport, unattended, available for the taking. After I explained how I was mistreated and abused, my mom decided that we should go back to the airport, get my bag, and rip all these unhelpful people a new one.
After trekking through the icy tundra for a third time, we finally arrived at the airport, only to be met by a long line at baggage lost and found. When we finally got some service, the woman told us that my bag was in the storeroom and it would take 2-4 hours to retrieve it. We would have to wait at Baggage Claim 7.
So like the geniuses we were, we decided to kill some time by going to the airport Hilton’s restaurant. We ate some awful and overpriced spaghetti and killed about an hour. I met up with a guy from my flight who I recognized because I liked his peacoat, and we asked him how long he’d been waiting. 4 hours. 4 HOURS.
We were met with some unhelpful security guards and my mom was about to slap a bitch when all of a sudden an angel appeared from heaven.
“I’ll find your bag for you.” She said.
We looked at her in disbelief. She took my baggage number and 15 minutes later, my bag showed up on the carousel. She is my spirit animal, my guardian angel, my everything. She saved the day, and saved me from maybe killing every O’Hare employee that night.