Fear of Flying

With all due respect to the author Erica Jong, and in full disclosure, this missive will be nowhere as erotic or exciting as was her 1970s tome by the same name.

But nonetheless it will likely elicit more sympathy as we’ve all been there at one time or another. This week, we conducted our annual company retreat in Kansas City (okay I know the 21^st century buzzword is “summit” and not “retreat” but bear with me) , which for those of us in the Northeast translates into paying for a steep non-stop fare, or economizing and biting the Chicago bullet – meaning a connection at either O’Hare or Midway airports.

I won’t take up your time regaling you with my travails over the years flying into, out of, or connecting through the Windy City, but let’s just say one experience had me spending the night on top of a table in a conference room after a 5-hour delay and another found me firmly wedged in between two couches after three consecutive flights were cancelled. The latter ended with the ticket agent simply walking away despite howls of protest and threats of bodily harm from stranded passengers.

For those keeping score at home, I proudly continued my Chicago streak.

As storms of various forms of precipitation (snow, rain, hail and even tornadoes) pounded America’s heartland earlier this week, the pessimist in me was resigned to the fact that my return trip to the Big Apple would take a bit longer than the stated departure and landing times on my tickets.

And it didn’t disappoint.

Exactly 11 minutes after I checked in for my KC to Chicago sojourn, the ticket agent informed me there would be a two-hour delay, which immediately meant I would miss my connection at O’Hare. Okay, so I figured there would be a number of other Chicago to New York options to choose from.

Apparently so did about 2,000 other delayed passengers.

I was able to secure a seat on a stand-by flight which was then immediately delayed for an additional two hours before receiving permission to proceed. The pilot then informed us we were number 17 for takeoff. So I took out a good book and like any of my 50 or so adventures in Chicago, simply waited it out.

When we finally arrived in New York my transportation adventures continued. The car service left a voice mail that because of my flight’s continually changing times, they could not reserve a vehicle to get me and that I would have to go it alone in getting a ride home.

A trifecta!

Next year, I’m going to propose some other locales for our company get together.  Or at least one that is serviced by Amtrak or Trailways.

Setting up tables and chairs in my backyard also comes to mind.