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For some reason about midway through the con I started having digestive troubles, the exact nature of which I will spare you. It did not interfere with my enjoyment of the con or the people I got to hang out with--not only was my "Does Scientific Illiteracy Get a Pass in Media SF" panel rollicking and fun, but there was the signout, which was more fun, and then an evening playing pool at the Great Dane with an often-changing swirl of cool people. But by Monday night I was not only tired, I was feeling rotten. If anything, I felt rotten-er the next morning, but in a businesslike way I finished packing, went up to the Governor's Club and knocked back a cup of hot water, said more goodbyes, and headed off to the airport to catch the first of my two flights back to San Francisco. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vylar_kaftan and her sweetie were on the hotel shuttle and both flights, so there was good company. And good company was a good thing because...sheesh.
The flight from Madison to Minneapolis was fine. Some turbulence in the air which slowed us down slightly, so when we got in to Minneapolis a few minutes late and saw that a) the gate for our connecting flight to San Francisco was twenty feet from our arrival gate and 2) our 2:25 flight was delayed by twenty minutes, it seemed that the Fates were lining up to make life easier for us. For certain values of "easier", of course. I should have known better.
After something like ten delay updates from Orbitz, a gate change, we pulled back from the gate and flew off to San Francisco at 10:25pm. Rather than reaching our destination at 4:30, we got in at 12:28. What happened? First, apparently, there was something wrong with the pilot's chair which required fixing; I don't know if it was a safety thing or a comfort thing, but it had to be done (I want the flight crew comfy and safe, thanks). It couldn't just be taken care of, however; ultimately they had to replace the chair. And then there was a light that went on that had to be checked out... The delays were meted out in 20-45 minute increments at first, then an hour, then in two hours. They did, around 5, give out meal vouchers for the meal-inclined, although $6 doesn't cover much of anything. Finally around 6:30 they announced that they had a new plane for us, please go to another gate far-far away. So the 200-odd of us loaded up and trotted through Minneapolis Airport to the new gate. There, we learned that, with the new plane,we were getting a new crew (the old crew had been on duty past their legal time, or something. It would only take two hours to get the crew in... At 8 pm, with everyone but the First Officer on deck, they loaded us into the new plane. By now, perhaps not surprisingly, the Natives were getting restless. I understand this, although I was still feeling too crappy to be very restless myself, but the poor gate crew and flight crew were not the people screwing up, here; they were the people on the front lines with insufficient information.
They took us off the plane at 9, because we were still waiting for a First Officer. More meal vouchers were handed out, for the voucher-inclined. And then offered us the option of returning to the plane again, because a First Officer had been found and would be arriving at 10. I had basically been sitting in a light doze for all those hours; I tried to eat something, decided that was a mistake, and drank a bit of water instead.vylar_kaftan was very solicitous and helpful and offered to bring me soup or food or something, but really, all I wanted was to sit and doze over my book.
Obviously, a First Officer was finally found, and we flew away from Minneapolis, and I am in my own bed listening to my own dog snore this morning. I like to think that, within the limits of my physical ick, I kept up my good humor throughout; most of the passengers did. A few got loudly, volubly upset and yelled at the various crews (who were as fed up with the whole deal as the rest of us, clearly...they went out of their way to find the numbers of Delta's customer service offices for people who wanted to complain). But mostly there was esprit du terminal, a French expression I just made up for the bonding of 200 strangers waiting for a plane they are not certain will ever depart.
vylar_kaftan and her sweetie were on the hotel shuttle and both flights, so there was good company. And good company was a good thing because...sheesh.The flight from Madison to Minneapolis was fine. Some turbulence in the air which slowed us down slightly, so when we got in to Minneapolis a few minutes late and saw that a) the gate for our connecting flight to San Francisco was twenty feet from our arrival gate and 2) our 2:25 flight was delayed by twenty minutes, it seemed that the Fates were lining up to make life easier for us. For certain values of "easier", of course. I should have known better.
After something like ten delay updates from Orbitz, a gate change, we pulled back from the gate and flew off to San Francisco at 10:25pm. Rather than reaching our destination at 4:30, we got in at 12:28. What happened? First, apparently, there was something wrong with the pilot's chair which required fixing; I don't know if it was a safety thing or a comfort thing, but it had to be done (I want the flight crew comfy and safe, thanks). It couldn't just be taken care of, however; ultimately they had to replace the chair. And then there was a light that went on that had to be checked out... The delays were meted out in 20-45 minute increments at first, then an hour, then in two hours. They did, around 5, give out meal vouchers for the meal-inclined, although $6 doesn't cover much of anything. Finally around 6:30 they announced that they had a new plane for us, please go to another gate far-far away. So the 200-odd of us loaded up and trotted through Minneapolis Airport to the new gate. There, we learned that, with the new plane,we were getting a new crew (the old crew had been on duty past their legal time, or something. It would only take two hours to get the crew in... At 8 pm, with everyone but the First Officer on deck, they loaded us into the new plane. By now, perhaps not surprisingly, the Natives were getting restless. I understand this, although I was still feeling too crappy to be very restless myself, but the poor gate crew and flight crew were not the people screwing up, here; they were the people on the front lines with insufficient information.
They took us off the plane at 9, because we were still waiting for a First Officer. More meal vouchers were handed out, for the voucher-inclined. And then offered us the option of returning to the plane again, because a First Officer had been found and would be arriving at 10. I had basically been sitting in a light doze for all those hours; I tried to eat something, decided that was a mistake, and drank a bit of water instead.
vylar_kaftan was very solicitous and helpful and offered to bring me soup or food or something, but really, all I wanted was to sit and doze over my book. Obviously, a First Officer was finally found, and we flew away from Minneapolis, and I am in my own bed listening to my own dog snore this morning. I like to think that, within the limits of my physical ick, I kept up my good humor throughout; most of the passengers did. A few got loudly, volubly upset and yelled at the various crews (who were as fed up with the whole deal as the rest of us, clearly...they went out of their way to find the numbers of Delta's customer service offices for people who wanted to complain). But mostly there was esprit du terminal, a French expression I just made up for the bonding of 200 strangers waiting for a plane they are not certain will ever depart.