On December 25th, my friends Matt & Jennifer Gross were informed by United Airlines that they (United) had bumped up their flight by two hours.  Yes.  Ahead.  There was panic and fury but in the end they ended up making it to the flight in time and avoided a near miss on the connecting flight.  I remember thinking to myself 'typical, hopefully nothing like that happens to me'.

The morning of December 26th was cloudy and overcast, but dry.  The temperature was an astounding 76 degrees with 90% humidity.  This was not to last though.  As I finished my last minute packing a tempest was rushing towards the Metroplex from the North Pole.  The last few days had brought it into the States in a line from Cheyenne to Boston.  Browsing the weather, I predicted that my 4:05pm flight would just barely edge out the storm, expected to arrive sometime around 6pm that day.  The plan was that I would be happily on my way to San Francisco by the time the maelstrom arrived.
My wife, Ashley, dropped me off at the airport (Dallas-Fort Worth International) at about 2:00pm.  Having had some epic battles with our other domestic airline, American, I was anxious about dealing with United.....whom did not hub in DFW.  My check in went extremely smoothly, as did my jaunt through security.  I found myself at Gate E7 with about 90 minutes to kill.  As per tradition I pulled up Flightaware, which showed my flight was still 'on-time' and then clicked the magic link to show where my actual aircraft was.  The page loaded.

The aircraft was in Denver.

On the ground in Denver.

A line told me the plane had a slight 'mechanical correction' to be made and would be delayed approximately one hour.

One hour.

Check the weather, quick.  One hour will be cutting it VERY close.
In anticipation of this delay I cornered a United ticket agent and changed my connecting flight in San Francisco (SFO) from the 7:30pm departure to the later flight at 9:15pm, so as not to take any chances.  Smug in my ability to head off problems, I went back to my chair (with plug) and waited on the plane.  It finally left Denver after a 75 minute delay and began the slow journey to Gate E7 as I watched the horizon to the north grow ever darker.  

At 4:37pm, a half hour AFTER I was supposed to have been off the ground, the plane landed (on the furthest possible runway) and finally arrived at Gate E7.  Anxiously I watched people leaving the plane, some complaining about their extra hour on the tarmac at DEN.  As the last person left the craft, the skies open and the downpour began.  At first nothing happened, the plane was cleaned and readied for us and boarding began in a hurry....the United crew seemingly eager to get out of there before the 'bad stuff' hit.

As I walked down the jetway, thinking I still had time to make my flight at SFO, I heard the crackle of the mobile-gate's operators walkie talkie.  

'Lightning strike on northwest perimeter.  All stations ground stop'

No.

NO.

NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Our plane was loaded, everyone on board and now we were stuck because they had not finished loading our bags, nor detached us from the gate itself.  For thirty minutes I watched rain and wind pound the little terminal of the damned and finally, it abated.  The ground crew returned, loaded our now soaked luggage and pushed us back from the gate.  My watch read 7:15pm.  With the time change, I could still just make it assuming I could plead my way through security.  

Per tradition at DFW, our plane immediately took the longest possible route to our runway.  As we approached the merciful spot where blue lights turn to white, we stopped.  Assuming a line to take off, I glanced out my window.  A face from a nearby plane glanced back.  And from several other planes adjacent to us.  We were now in a parking lot.

Our glorious captain came over the intercom to let us know they had to reroute our flight plan due to storm activity and it would take 'about 15 minutes'.  I glanced at the radar.  The wall of storms was rapidly congealing into a single, massing line stretching from Salt Lake City, through Denver, Saint Louis, Nashville, Boston and ending up near Reykjavik.  A continent wide storm.  Few holes remained, I began to sweat.  The little Asian girl next to me kept asking 'why we no take off?'.  "Airline f*ckery" did not translate well.

30 minutes later our captain announced he now had our flight plan, but as it required a substantial detour, we would have to go back to the gate to get more gas.  An important addition to any flight indeed!  At 8:15pm we returned to the gate.  The vanguard of our safety announced that we could get off the plane if we wished, as he wasn't sure of conditions.  My pessimism took hold and I ran the math.  Unless we left in the next 5 minutes, I would almost certainly miss my flight in SFO.  I gathered my belongings and stomped to the front of the plane, asking to be released from my torment.

The kind, pretty flight attendants informed me I was free to go, but my checked bag, alas, was not.  I would have to fine a claim which would get my bag back to me in '3-4 business days'.  I could not allow this to happen so I asked politely if the plane was at least leaving 'soon'.  The captain himself, OH!  captain my captain!, told me indeed we were.  Content, I sat in my seat and immediately called the United help line to reschedule my flight.  After 30 minutes of being on hold, I was forced to pass this task off to my beloved wife, Ashley....as battery power waned on my mobile device.  

After 90 minutes, Ashley was able to reschedule my flight to Auckland (AKL) for 7:15pm the next day, as well as book me a hotel in SFO for my overnight there.

What's that, you say?  NINETY minutes later?  You were in the air, correct?

I'm afraid not.  At 8:45pm we pushed back from the gate again....and again we took a tour-de-taxiway around DFW.  We returned to the same parking lot and again, sat.  The captain came on to inform us not to despair, the hole we had intended to fly through had closed, and the think tank at air traffic control (ATC) were working feverishly to get us through to SFO!  There were only 17 flights doing the same thing infront of us!  

Calmly, I lay my head against the window and stared eastward.  At this time, while enjoying the lightning show over downtown Dallas, I noticed a peculiar, triangle shaped cloud making it's way behind the skyscrapers.  Anxious talking behind me confirmed my suspicious....a category F4 tornado was tearing the f**k out of east Dallas.  We watched in horror, multiple times asking the stewardess if it was indeed safe to be in an aluminum coffin should God decide to swing the tornado our way to assist with takeoff.

The stewardess responded to our pleas with assurances and the PRIVILEGE of glasses of water....and after much arguing, being allowed to use the bathroom on an active taxiway that was anything but.  

Time passed slowly.  The storm moved out and a quiet drizzle settled into the most holy DFW airport.  The captain assured us in 15 minute intervals we were about to leave and at 11:30pm we finally began to move!  It was at this time, I noticed we were leaving the runway and heading for the many lights off to our right.  The terminal.

The pilot apologized again, stating that we had reached our three hour limit for being plane bound, and out of concern for our safety, he should....nay, MUST return us to the gate to stretch our legs.  His efforts with ATC had not been fruitful and because of the 22 plane backup, it would take an additional little bit to reach our gate.

But at 12:05am, reach it we did!  ALL HAIL THE GLORIOUS CAPTAIN AND CREW FOR GETTING US SAFELY FROM GATE E7 TO RUNWAY 18R AND THEN BACK AGAIN AND THEN BACK AGAIN AND THEN BACK AGAIN!

The captain nicely informed us to take all our belongings too, just in case we needed something while they re-cleaned the plane.  And don't forget your ticket!  You'll need it to get back on!

Now starting to feel slightly like a Jew just off the train at a German summer camp, I followed my fellow prisoners back up the jetway where I stood in line to inquire as to my odds of just rebooking for the next morning.

As I stood, the announcement came over the airwaves.  United Airlines, in their infinite glory had decided to cancel our flight.  BUT DO NOT FRET!  They swore to schedule a new flight for us 'in the morning', being courteous enough to narrow the window down to the 12 short ours between now and lunch the next day.  When could we book this flight?  A little excitement for us!  A random time it will be added 'before dawn' according to the most hygienic ticketing agent who must have felt like a rabbit in a wolfs lair.  

Satisfied and completely within emotional safety range, I notified my wife that I would calmly be returning to my house for the evening, but one thing first.  A call to United could get me to SFO on a flight arriving from Bush Intercontinental (IAH) in Houston.  I was elated!  Salvation at last!

When would that plane arrive at DFW to pick me up, I asked.  Soon!  They responded, it's about to push back from the gate in Houston.  

I glanced at my watch.  12:25am.  My enthusiasm for this new route melted away.  Most all control melted away. 

My cab ride home must have been awful for the poor man who carried me.  Discussions, at length, of how all domestic carriers were f*ckwits permeated our discussion.  He could have only been too happy to drop me at my home (making note to never come near the place again) at 12:55am.

My exhausted wife greeted me as I immediately recalled United to rebook on the rescheduled flight.  

Not in the system yet!  Call back when they (the ticket office in DFW) open at 3:45am!

Feeling safe in my assumption they would be late, I set my alarm for 4:00am.

2.5 sleepless hours later I called in and promptly listened to their hold music for 65 minutes.  The music repeats after 3 minutes.   They were aware of our problems and were working hard to get us to SFO!  However, no additional flight would be added!

After rage crying my way through their system, I was successfully rebooked on a flight to IAH at 2:35pm, connecting to AKL at 7:15pm that evening.  SWEET RELEASE!

I slept well into the morning, going to lunch with my wife on our anniversary.   A glance at the weather showed Winter Storm Goliath (tm) was still parked firmly over DFW and now extended from SFO to London.  I had to make a judgment call.  With tears in my eyes, I was forced to forsake the good people at United Airlines and rented a car to drive to Houston.  A second tearful farewell later, I left at 1:15pm for the lonely drive to the Bayou City.

Minutes passed like hours.  The rain was relentless and without mercy.  I called United to let them know to cancel my attendance on the flight to IAH and to apologize for my weakness in needing to get myself to Houston.  As time passed I checked on my former flight, and watched in horror as it was delayed 30, then 60, then 90, then 120 minutes due to weather concerns!

In fact, it was still in DFW when I arrived at IAH around 5:30pm, quickly ditching my rental car of the damned and hoofing it to the terminal.  There, the good people of Air New Zealand righted all of United's unfortunate errors in mere seconds!

Our plane boarded on time at 6:45.  I was among the last of the blessed to board it and found a plane almost 1/3 empty.  My former flight from DFW, had just taken off.  I prayed endlessly that they would arrive safely and that ANZ would wait for the poor souls!

It was not to be though, our devlish captain decided that waiting only 2 more hours for connectors was unthinkable.  They closed the doors and whisked us out of Houston and out of the country as fast as they could!  I was forced to endue 15 hours on a plane with only my own row to lay in and audible silence as a companion.  By the time I landed in Auckland, I was beyond reproach in my distress for United's problems with Goliath.  I was only able to sadly trudge through customs, then to the domestic terminal, where I caught my fight to New Plymouth.  Landing around an hour later at my final destination.

My hotel was gracious, as was Budget Rent a Car with my frantic "+1 day" screaming voicemails from the day before and all was arranged for me.  I unloaded my baggage and decided to go wander around my newfound neighborhood.

Part II Shortly.

That being said.  Fu*k United Airlines.  Fu*k their ticket agents, fu*k their planes, fu*k Denver, fu*k rain, fu*k tornadoes, fu*k naming winter storms, fu*k the taxiways at DFW, fu*k the Asian girl that kept asking why we no take off, fu*k that hold music, fu*k my soaked baggage, fu*k all Airbus planes, fu*k ME!

Back to Nick's Trip account