To Hell with Hartsfield Airport
OK, I know it's not exactly the safest thing to say. I'm aware of the implications--the post-nine-eleven stuff. But I'm a loyal American, and understand this: My wife and I were delayed landing, burned fuel, and were finally re-routed to Augusta--where we waited 90 minutes to refuel and head back to Atlanta . . . after two airport closures and the departure of our scheduled flight.
Now that's not so bad.
Continue to understand: This was Thursday. And after missing our flight to my sister-in-law's hometown for her wedding, we were abandoned (no food, no hotel, no flight, no blanket or pillow, after 8 hours of airplane confinement) to suffer the night away until our next flight.
For which Delta eventually lost 50% of our luggage.
You are beginning to understand why I use the expletive?
Imagine now that you are using the corner of a laptop case as pillow and you are shivering against paper thin, poly-whatever "carpet" and concrete. Carpet that smells like shoe soles and rubber luggage wheels. Imagine that CNN is endlessly piped through speakers which you can never seem to escape, and every twenty minutes the same airport security announcement blares away any hope of a restless sleep.
Imagine, further if you will, that you meet Joe Lieberman at nine o'clock the next morning in Dulles. Imagine that (although you think he's a Republican in Democrat's clothing and you'd like to tell him to help the party you loyally support rather than sabotage it) you say nothing, thanks to lack of sleep and a wife who all too well understands your id, and who with a flick of body language encourages your silence.
Imagine, next, that after an exhausting trip you return--via Delta and through Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport--only to miss your flight home to San Diego by a minute or two.
Now some of you might rightfully point out this is not Hartsfield Airport's fault. Touché. Yet forgive me if, subsequent to this injurious weekend, I hesitate to fly through it again.
All of which makes me wonder, is there a story in this somewhere?
(R J Woerheide)
Now that's not so bad.
Continue to understand: This was Thursday. And after missing our flight to my sister-in-law's hometown for her wedding, we were abandoned (no food, no hotel, no flight, no blanket or pillow, after 8 hours of airplane confinement) to suffer the night away until our next flight.
For which Delta eventually lost 50% of our luggage.
You are beginning to understand why I use the expletive?
Imagine now that you are using the corner of a laptop case as pillow and you are shivering against paper thin, poly-whatever "carpet" and concrete. Carpet that smells like shoe soles and rubber luggage wheels. Imagine that CNN is endlessly piped through speakers which you can never seem to escape, and every twenty minutes the same airport security announcement blares away any hope of a restless sleep.
Imagine, further if you will, that you meet Joe Lieberman at nine o'clock the next morning in Dulles. Imagine that (although you think he's a Republican in Democrat's clothing and you'd like to tell him to help the party you loyally support rather than sabotage it) you say nothing, thanks to lack of sleep and a wife who all too well understands your id, and who with a flick of body language encourages your silence.
Imagine, next, that after an exhausting trip you return--via Delta and through Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport--only to miss your flight home to San Diego by a minute or two.
Now some of you might rightfully point out this is not Hartsfield Airport's fault. Touché. Yet forgive me if, subsequent to this injurious weekend, I hesitate to fly through it again.
All of which makes me wonder, is there a story in this somewhere?
(R J Woerheide)
posted by Robert Woerheide at 11:15 PM
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