Airports
After a week's work gig in Detroit, I had to make my way back to the Bay Area for a weekend ultimate tournament. The tournament was held in Santa Cruz, so the BA airport closest to where I needed to be was San Jose. I found a flight through Phoenix to SJC, easy peasy.
I drove to the Detroit airport on Friday evening, and got checked in. It was a warm summer day in Detroit, and I don't think the air was on in the terminal. I guess they're a bit more inured to it than we are on the west coast (particularly in Seattle), but I was sweltering. Waited for my flight (a US Airways / America West codeshare), boarded in US Air's characteristic "reverse pyramid" boarding style, got settled. I had that kickass exit row seat that doesn't have a seat in front of it. Amen. The four-something hour flight to Phoenix was uneventful. Napped a tad, read, listened to the iPod. On approach into Phoenix, I got a good light show; there was one of the daily "monsoon" thunderstorms in action.
When we arrived in Phoenix, it was about 8:30pm. I tried to call my dad, figuring "hey, I set foot in his home state, I should at least say 'hi'." Cell service had something else to say. I never even got enough service for my phone to realize that it had to update the time zone. Another thing I didn't get was food. The concession stands all closed right as our plane deboarded. Gee, thanks. No matter, Clif bars will do, for now; besides, it's time to board. Get on the plane, another exit row (aisle). I can see into the cockpit, well enough to notice a conspicuous absence. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the flight staff finally mentioned that "sorry, folks, we don't have a flight crew--they're en route from another flight which has been delayed because of the dust storm." (To be clear, flight attendants were on board, but no (co-)pilot.) At last our captain and first officer join us, and set about their pre-flight paperwork. Another few minutes later (departure time was scheduled at 9:25, it's now 10:40pm), the stewardess returns to the PA "well we've got some good news and some bad news. We've got a pilot, but because of the delays, we've missed our curfew into San Jose. This flight has been cancelled."
Twice through Phoenix in recent years, and twice stranded overnight. Last time was an ice storm in Dallas that prevented flights landing there. Anyway, I know the drill. Rather than trying to stand in line at the gate (like everyone else deboarding), I headed straight for the service desk a couple of gates away. I was first or second in line, and got my flight rescheduled, but they hadn't heard word yet about hotel accomodations. So I waited on the side. A couple returning from their trip to Cancun were standing near me, also waiting for hotel vouchers. We chatted for a while, watched people huff off (presumably paying for their own hotels, ha!), completely relaxed about the situation. No reason to get too huffy, the service staff were doing their part. A while later, I got my hotel voucher, and headed for the hotel shuttle. Slept just a few hours before I was back up to do it again.
Now this is where I bitch about Sky Harbor. Due to the large number of flight cancellations from the prior night, the number of passengers passing through the airport Saturday morning was huge. Much larger than it would ordinarily be, I think. Security was completely unprepared. There were only two (three?) lanes open out of a possible eight. Lots of people were delayed or in danger of missing their flights because of this. I even heard one of the "gatekeepers" say to someone "I saw you cut the line, you'll have to wait." Wow. Not exactly winning them with a smile, are we? By the way, Lindsay Davenport is really tall.
Then I found out what the code "SSSS" on your boarding pass means. I think it stands for "SSSSpecial", and it means secondary screening. Yay! Oddly enough, I think the extra screening actually got me through security slighly faster than the rest of the people. My things were fast-tracked through the X-ray, and even the extra swabbing didn't take that long. I then sprinted to my (nearby) gate, to find that it had only begun boarding. Oh, good.
I found my Cancunian friends, asked them how they slept, etc. When it was my turn to board, I found someone in my seat. Ok, I was reseated in a middle seat a few rows back. From this vantage point, I could see the (barely) five-foot, 100lb, middle-aged, arthritic Filipina seated in a middle seat in the exit row.
This is where I bitch about US Airways. They actually come to your seat and say the whole spiel about "you may be called on to assist us. You must read the emergency information card, are you OK with this? I need a verbal response..." and then they ask each passenger seated in the exit area individually. All you have to say is "yes", and then you're good to stay in that seat. Now there were other people in that row who could have wrangled the door in the case of a real emergency, etc, but did that tiny woman really need the fin leg room? Damn; do some screening of the people in the exit row, already.
Depart late, fly, arrive San Jose. Now I've got to collect my luggage, get to the rental car shuttle, and book ass down to Boulder Creek and pray that my spot in the tournament hasn't been given away. It's punshingly hot in San Jose, and it's only 9:40am. I melt while waiting for the rental car shuttle. The interior of the car itself is nearly smouldering as I get in. I strip off the work clothes that I had been stuck in for two days running and put on some shorts from my checked luggage. Much better. Ok, now, let's hit the road. Wait, how do I get out of here? I swear that they make you do like eight laps of the fin terminal just to get out of that stupid airport. A second fuck you to SJC, first the curfews where you won't let me land, and the jacked up exits where you won't let me leave. After that mess, the traffic over 17 into Santa Cruz seemed relaxing in contrast.
I did make the tournament. But that's another post.
I drove to the Detroit airport on Friday evening, and got checked in. It was a warm summer day in Detroit, and I don't think the air was on in the terminal. I guess they're a bit more inured to it than we are on the west coast (particularly in Seattle), but I was sweltering. Waited for my flight (a US Airways / America West codeshare), boarded in US Air's characteristic "reverse pyramid" boarding style, got settled. I had that kickass exit row seat that doesn't have a seat in front of it. Amen. The four-something hour flight to Phoenix was uneventful. Napped a tad, read, listened to the iPod. On approach into Phoenix, I got a good light show; there was one of the daily "monsoon" thunderstorms in action.
When we arrived in Phoenix, it was about 8:30pm. I tried to call my dad, figuring "hey, I set foot in his home state, I should at least say 'hi'." Cell service had something else to say. I never even got enough service for my phone to realize that it had to update the time zone. Another thing I didn't get was food. The concession stands all closed right as our plane deboarded. Gee, thanks. No matter, Clif bars will do, for now; besides, it's time to board. Get on the plane, another exit row (aisle). I can see into the cockpit, well enough to notice a conspicuous absence. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the flight staff finally mentioned that "sorry, folks, we don't have a flight crew--they're en route from another flight which has been delayed because of the dust storm." (To be clear, flight attendants were on board, but no (co-)pilot.) At last our captain and first officer join us, and set about their pre-flight paperwork. Another few minutes later (departure time was scheduled at 9:25, it's now 10:40pm), the stewardess returns to the PA "well we've got some good news and some bad news. We've got a pilot, but because of the delays, we've missed our curfew into San Jose. This flight has been cancelled."
Twice through Phoenix in recent years, and twice stranded overnight. Last time was an ice storm in Dallas that prevented flights landing there. Anyway, I know the drill. Rather than trying to stand in line at the gate (like everyone else deboarding), I headed straight for the service desk a couple of gates away. I was first or second in line, and got my flight rescheduled, but they hadn't heard word yet about hotel accomodations. So I waited on the side. A couple returning from their trip to Cancun were standing near me, also waiting for hotel vouchers. We chatted for a while, watched people huff off (presumably paying for their own hotels, ha!), completely relaxed about the situation. No reason to get too huffy, the service staff were doing their part. A while later, I got my hotel voucher, and headed for the hotel shuttle. Slept just a few hours before I was back up to do it again.
Now this is where I bitch about Sky Harbor. Due to the large number of flight cancellations from the prior night, the number of passengers passing through the airport Saturday morning was huge. Much larger than it would ordinarily be, I think. Security was completely unprepared. There were only two (three?) lanes open out of a possible eight. Lots of people were delayed or in danger of missing their flights because of this. I even heard one of the "gatekeepers" say to someone "I saw you cut the line, you'll have to wait." Wow. Not exactly winning them with a smile, are we? By the way, Lindsay Davenport is really tall.
Then I found out what the code "SSSS" on your boarding pass means. I think it stands for "SSSSpecial", and it means secondary screening. Yay! Oddly enough, I think the extra screening actually got me through security slighly faster than the rest of the people. My things were fast-tracked through the X-ray, and even the extra swabbing didn't take that long. I then sprinted to my (nearby) gate, to find that it had only begun boarding. Oh, good.
I found my Cancunian friends, asked them how they slept, etc. When it was my turn to board, I found someone in my seat. Ok, I was reseated in a middle seat a few rows back. From this vantage point, I could see the (barely) five-foot, 100lb, middle-aged, arthritic Filipina seated in a middle seat in the exit row.
This is where I bitch about US Airways. They actually come to your seat and say the whole spiel about "you may be called on to assist us. You must read the emergency information card, are you OK with this? I need a verbal response..." and then they ask each passenger seated in the exit area individually. All you have to say is "yes", and then you're good to stay in that seat. Now there were other people in that row who could have wrangled the door in the case of a real emergency, etc, but did that tiny woman really need the fin leg room? Damn; do some screening of the people in the exit row, already.
Depart late, fly, arrive San Jose. Now I've got to collect my luggage, get to the rental car shuttle, and book ass down to Boulder Creek and pray that my spot in the tournament hasn't been given away. It's punshingly hot in San Jose, and it's only 9:40am. I melt while waiting for the rental car shuttle. The interior of the car itself is nearly smouldering as I get in. I strip off the work clothes that I had been stuck in for two days running and put on some shorts from my checked luggage. Much better. Ok, now, let's hit the road. Wait, how do I get out of here? I swear that they make you do like eight laps of the fin terminal just to get out of that stupid airport. A second fuck you to SJC, first the curfews where you won't let me land, and the jacked up exits where you won't let me leave. After that mess, the traffic over 17 into Santa Cruz seemed relaxing in contrast.
I did make the tournament. But that's another post.
posted by Sanford Owings at 4:46 PM
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