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edenfallingVicky and I got up at 7:00am Monday morning, whereupon I showered while she finished packing and did some cleaning downstairs. We all had a quick breakfast, after which we shut down the cabin (just a temporary shut-down, not a true close), packed the boat, and headed in to the marina. We left the island at 8:09am (running nine minutes late), and then left Cass Lake at 8:35am (running five minutes late), which is pretty good, considering!
Vicky drove all the way down to the Twin Cities, which neither Dad nor I bothered to protest. We dropped in to see Ardis, very briefly, and then went to a card and stationary shop (a 'paper patisserie,' as they call themselves) in Selby-Dale. I bought a very nice roll of wrapping paper, since I am running out of non-Christmas-themed paper. Then I joined Dad across the street at a bookstore owned by Garrison Keillor, which was fun to poke around in. The section arrangements and quotes up on the walls were amusing.
We had a minor mishap on the way to the airport, caused by Dad snipping a couple streets out of his mental map of St. Paul (bad Dad, no biscuit), but we recovered and arrived in good time. I checked my suitcase this time, since I was bringing home two bottles of rhubarb wine and a metal corkscrew. Vicky's plane left at about 3:30pm, and mine at about 5:10pm, so we hung out for a bit until she had to board.
I reached Detroit with no trouble, and then...
Okay, you remember how on the way out my plane had a fuel valve leak and I was delayed an hour and a half? This time was worse.
All Northwest flights in and out of Ithaca are in very small planes -- three seats and a narrow aisle wide, and maybe 15-20 rows long, with one tiny bathroom right up behind the cockpit, and space for only one flight attendant. Also, they are propeller planes. And in Detroit, those flight are always out of Terminal C. Meanwhile, flights to and from the Twin Cities go through Terminal A.
So I landed in Terminal A, headed down the long hallway, crossed through the underground tunnel, and in Terminal C, I checked the monitors to make sure my flight hadn't changed gates or been delayed.
Well, my flight was listed, but it had no gate. Instead, it said HGR, which apparently meant the plane was in the hanger, which is not much help. I asked various gate agents what was going on. They had no idea. One woman suggested that maybe the plane was coming in from an international flight and had been delayed. I said, "It's a propeller plane! They don't make international flights!" (Except maybe to Canada, but that hardly counts.)
I asked why the flight was still listed as departing at 9:25pm, even though it was now nearly 9:00pm -- boarding time -- and we still had no plane and no gate. They couldn't answer.
I asked who would know the answers, since nobody at the gates seemed to know anything that wasn't on the computer screens, which were clearly wrong. "Maybe the people downstairs," the woman said.
"So can you call them?" I asked. "Can you let me talk to them?"
"No," she said. "I have to board my own flight."
(She said this with nearly ten minutes left until scheduled boarding time for her flight. Does it take even three minutes to make a phone call and ask two or three simple questions? Argh.)
Anyway, finally we got a gate and a plane -- this involved playing musical gates with at least two other flights, but whatever -- and the gate agent told us it would take maybe twenty minutes to clean and restock it, after which we could board.
Then they found a problem with one of the tires.
*headdesk*
The departure time was pushed back from 9:25pm to 10:15pm. A couple maintenance techs drove up under the starboard wing in a little red car, unloaded some supplies, and fussed around one of the wheels. Then they stacked some gear in a pile and walked off. For nearly half an hour.
Meanwhile, the departure time was pushed back to 11:00pm. The maintenance guys reappeared, fussed around the wheel, and left again.
I gave up and watched some pre-season football over at another gate. (Giants vs. Cleveland. Not bad, really, though that failed interception that turned into a Cleveland touchdown... talk about your missed chances!)
They pushed the departure time back to 11:30pm.
Finally the maintenance guys came back, fixed the tire and wheel, put their tools back into the little red car, and drove away. At 11:15pm (when we should have been landing in Ithaca), they let us board the plane. Then we had to wait for the maintenance guys to finish their paperwork and hand it to the captain. But finally we got into the air.
About halfway to Ithaca, the captain came on the intercom and said, "We're going to try cutting between two storm cells, because there's really no other reasonable flight path to Ithaca, so pull your seatbelts tight and don't worry."
(This is ever so reassuring when you can see lightning outside your window, and you're thinking to yourself, "We're in a little metal box, kept aloft by electronics. Oh god, we're all going to die!")
But in the end, we reached Ithaca, landed safely at 1:15 in the morning, and I got a taxi home. My suitcase was not lost, nor were my wine bottles broken, so I counted my blessings, unpacked, and went to sleep.
---------------
Today I slept late, after which I spent an hour talking with Susan on the phone, and then went into town. I picked up and deposited my paycheck, read a couple magazine articles, ordered two books through interlibrary loan, bought groceries, and found a perfect birthday present for my dad.
It has been, overall, a very good week. :-)
Vicky drove all the way down to the Twin Cities, which neither Dad nor I bothered to protest. We dropped in to see Ardis, very briefly, and then went to a card and stationary shop (a 'paper patisserie,' as they call themselves) in Selby-Dale. I bought a very nice roll of wrapping paper, since I am running out of non-Christmas-themed paper. Then I joined Dad across the street at a bookstore owned by Garrison Keillor, which was fun to poke around in. The section arrangements and quotes up on the walls were amusing.
We had a minor mishap on the way to the airport, caused by Dad snipping a couple streets out of his mental map of St. Paul (bad Dad, no biscuit), but we recovered and arrived in good time. I checked my suitcase this time, since I was bringing home two bottles of rhubarb wine and a metal corkscrew. Vicky's plane left at about 3:30pm, and mine at about 5:10pm, so we hung out for a bit until she had to board.
I reached Detroit with no trouble, and then...
Okay, you remember how on the way out my plane had a fuel valve leak and I was delayed an hour and a half? This time was worse.
All Northwest flights in and out of Ithaca are in very small planes -- three seats and a narrow aisle wide, and maybe 15-20 rows long, with one tiny bathroom right up behind the cockpit, and space for only one flight attendant. Also, they are propeller planes. And in Detroit, those flight are always out of Terminal C. Meanwhile, flights to and from the Twin Cities go through Terminal A.
So I landed in Terminal A, headed down the long hallway, crossed through the underground tunnel, and in Terminal C, I checked the monitors to make sure my flight hadn't changed gates or been delayed.
Well, my flight was listed, but it had no gate. Instead, it said HGR, which apparently meant the plane was in the hanger, which is not much help. I asked various gate agents what was going on. They had no idea. One woman suggested that maybe the plane was coming in from an international flight and had been delayed. I said, "It's a propeller plane! They don't make international flights!" (Except maybe to Canada, but that hardly counts.)
I asked why the flight was still listed as departing at 9:25pm, even though it was now nearly 9:00pm -- boarding time -- and we still had no plane and no gate. They couldn't answer.
I asked who would know the answers, since nobody at the gates seemed to know anything that wasn't on the computer screens, which were clearly wrong. "Maybe the people downstairs," the woman said.
"So can you call them?" I asked. "Can you let me talk to them?"
"No," she said. "I have to board my own flight."
(She said this with nearly ten minutes left until scheduled boarding time for her flight. Does it take even three minutes to make a phone call and ask two or three simple questions? Argh.)
Anyway, finally we got a gate and a plane -- this involved playing musical gates with at least two other flights, but whatever -- and the gate agent told us it would take maybe twenty minutes to clean and restock it, after which we could board.
Then they found a problem with one of the tires.
*headdesk*
The departure time was pushed back from 9:25pm to 10:15pm. A couple maintenance techs drove up under the starboard wing in a little red car, unloaded some supplies, and fussed around one of the wheels. Then they stacked some gear in a pile and walked off. For nearly half an hour.
Meanwhile, the departure time was pushed back to 11:00pm. The maintenance guys reappeared, fussed around the wheel, and left again.
I gave up and watched some pre-season football over at another gate. (Giants vs. Cleveland. Not bad, really, though that failed interception that turned into a Cleveland touchdown... talk about your missed chances!)
They pushed the departure time back to 11:30pm.
Finally the maintenance guys came back, fixed the tire and wheel, put their tools back into the little red car, and drove away. At 11:15pm (when we should have been landing in Ithaca), they let us board the plane. Then we had to wait for the maintenance guys to finish their paperwork and hand it to the captain. But finally we got into the air.
About halfway to Ithaca, the captain came on the intercom and said, "We're going to try cutting between two storm cells, because there's really no other reasonable flight path to Ithaca, so pull your seatbelts tight and don't worry."
(This is ever so reassuring when you can see lightning outside your window, and you're thinking to yourself, "We're in a little metal box, kept aloft by electronics. Oh god, we're all going to die!")
But in the end, we reached Ithaca, landed safely at 1:15 in the morning, and I got a taxi home. My suitcase was not lost, nor were my wine bottles broken, so I counted my blessings, unpacked, and went to sleep.
---------------
Today I slept late, after which I spent an hour talking with Susan on the phone, and then went into town. I picked up and deposited my paycheck, read a couple magazine articles, ordered two books through interlibrary loan, bought groceries, and found a perfect birthday present for my dad.
It has been, overall, a very good week. :-)
