When Plan B bites

Planes ready to go, but passengers held up in security

Sometimes the traveler is just stuck due to events beyond one’s control. That happened to me a couple of times in 2001 when I went to Greece on my last sabbatical. It was Easter Sunday and cab drivers didn’t want to drive to the airport because they had a delicious lamb dinner and family celebration coming up. They only wanted local fares. So we (my traveling companion Todd and I) found our way to the airport bus and crammed ourselves and our luggage aboard with all the other people who couldn’t get taxis (in addition to those already planning to take the bus). We arrived at the airport before the plane was scheduled to take off but after the official time that the flight was “closed.” We promised we could run for it. Nope. They wouldn’t allow us to check-in. We’d have to wait in the airport for 6 hours for the next flight to the island of Samos. Since earlier that morning when we’d caught a glimpse of some Greek soldiers cooking whole lambs on spits over open fires we’d been happily anticipating our own lamb dinner on Samos. Our only meal option at Athens’ then brand-new airport was McDonald’s. A brand new, two-story McDonald’s. Not what I’d ever choose for a holiday dinner. So we waited, we groused, we napped, we took walks, we ate Big Macs, we groused and waited some more. When we finally walked up to the front door of our hotel on Samos at about 9pm we could smell it: aroma of lamb. Mmmmmm….  I’m not even a big fan of lamb but I was hungry for it. Sorry, the innkeeper said, this is a private party and there is no extra food. Not even a small plate the two of us could share? No. No lamb for you. But he directed us to a local restaurant a few blocks away and we trudged off into the darkness. It turned out to be a fabulous experience. There wasn’t much food left, but the two old Greek men  who made room for us at their table (who spoke no English) shared some of their lamb with us (and offered us cigarettes, which we politely declined, trying to not cough from theirs) while we waited for some attention from the kitchen. We were late to the party; people had been drinking and feasting for hours. There was live music, singing, dancing and general merriment for whole family. Nobody spoke English. We accepted whatever morsels of food they could scrounge up. It was probably the best Greek Easter dinner we could have had.

Several days later, at the other end of our Samos trip we were stranded again but this time its because we didn’t make travel arrangements in advance and there were no seats, not even standing room left on any plane or ferry boat back to Athens. It was the end of Easter break and everyone was going home. So there we were, stranded on Samos for a few days, knowing we wouldn’t get time to tour the Peloponnese. More than once a helpful person suggested that we use the time to take a little trip over to Turkey to visit Ephesus. Good thought. But wait, we’d just come from there. Oh well. Worse things can happen than being stranded on a beautiful Greek island. We walked the hills and took buses to unknown villages that hadn’t been on our itinerary.

My stranding today has no upside as far as I can tell. I boarded my plane in Montreal, knowing I’d have to change planes in Toronto. What I didn’t know (why would I?) was that the U.S. has a deal with Canada allowing a U.S. Customs center in the Toronto airport for people flying into the U.S. (instead of actually going through customs AFTER you’ve arrived in the U.S. — who does this arrangement serve?).  So instead of walking from gate 135 where my Montreal flight arrived across the way to gate 134 where my LAX-bound flight was already waiting, I had to walk down a very long hallway, go up an escalator, wait for my luggage to show up, lug my luggage (no carts were available), have my passport and boarding pass looked at AGAIN, stop and fill out a U.S. Customs form (you know, the ones they usually give you on the plane so you’ll have it all ready when you get into the Customs line), stand in line to see a U.S. Customs agent (who lives in Canada and may not even be a U.S. citizen) who also looked at my passport and boarding pass, then stand in another line to go through airport security screening (AGAIN, I’d already been screened in Montreal). Yes, of course, they wanted to see my passport and boarding pass too, even though we’d all been virtual prisoners since we came off the escalator where the luggage was deposited. Interestingly, I was “randomly” selected for special screening at both Montreal and Toronto. I think its the flying pigs; a middle aged woman traveling with two toy winged pigs must be up to something nefarious. Or maybe its just my lucky day.

All of this was plenty annoying and I became increasingly concerned that I was going to miss my flight. I overheard someone say that her friend was over there and they weren’t even boarding yet, so I was hopeful for a time. But then the line just stopped. I looked behind me: about 100 people and growing. I looked ahead of me: about 150 people also not moving.  And there I was with a middle group between U.S. Customs and Canadian Security with about 50 people. A regular Toronto-U.S. flyer said this was unusal. Finally I came across a lady who’d called her travel agent to see what was going on and learned that there was a worker slowdown on the part of the Canadian security agents; some sort of labor dispute. Flights were delayed because they really didn’t want to leave without a majority of their passengers. Some people just had to miss their flights and be rescheduled onto later flights. Guess which category I lucked into? Every once in awhile Air Canada staff would ask for people to raise their hands so they could tell how many people in line were late for upcoming flights. I didn’t hear any call for the LA flight. When I finally got to see the staffer she said “I called that flight” but I wasn’t up to the place in line where you could hear the loudspeaker when she’d been calling. At least she got me an exit row seat on the later flight. Five and a half hours later.

Urgh.

After a lot of walking around in the secure area I did finally find food that wasn’t fried. The airport has free WIFI and after a bit more walking around I’ve found a place to plug in to recharge my computer and phone batteries. But I must say that I was tempted to go into the Duty Free shop, buy a bunch of chocolate and liquor and drown my sorrows in it. But I didn’t.

I also didn’t cough into the faces of the Canadian security screeners (I’ve been traveling with a cold); I only thought about it. Then I asked my higher power to send them some love. I find it handy to ask my higher power to do nice things for me when I’m not feeling very nice. It takes the pressure off. I can be less cranky.

Although…there is still another hour to go before the originally scheduled departure time for my new flight and nobody knows how long this flight will be delayed. <Sigh> So…remembering what I said about loving Canada in my post last night, I must also remind myself that nobody’s perfect. I’m not expecting to see a bright side to this annoying delay but I’m doing my best to refuse to let what I can’t control to control me. Although I will admit that when I was in the middle of that mass of line standers it did feel like the terrorists had won.