The "Fun" Continues...

And by "fun," I mean not fun.  Not even a little fun.  Not fun at all, actually.  It's a good thing I like airports.

I'm not really sure why, but I decided that because I had nothing else to do for Spring Break, I would go home to the good ol' NoDak. There was no particular reason for me wanting to go, and nothing to do there, but I felt like it.  So Mom and Dad booked me a ticket that would (theoretically) arrive in Fargo on Tuesday night at 10:53 pm, and I'd leave the state on Saturday morning at 6:10.  A short trip, but worth it.  I had all sorts of plans for the time that I'd be home, and not nearly enough time to do it all in.

My flight was scheduled to leave on Tuesday night at 7:42 pm.  A Frontier flight.  Please keep in mind that Kenny warned me not to fly Frontier, because he used to work for them.  He also told me not to buy a cheap ticket, because that only exacerbates the problem.

Suffice it to say I went completely against his advice and did both.  Yes, both. Kenny,  you can freely say, "I told you so."

I wanted to be adventurous and to save a little cash on the trip, so I chose to take the Skyride Bus to DIA.  Usually not a problem.  The forecast for here had snow in it, but it didn't sound like anything toooo major.  Pasha planned to come and pick me up at my house and drop me at the bus stop as soon as his piano test was done.  Great plan, except that at a little after 3:00, it started snowing.  Hard.  And his bus coming from Boulder was late. Very late. 

I thought everything would still be fine, though. After all, my bus wasn't scheduled to leave the park and ride until 4:51 pm.  I still had plenty of time.  Except that I didn't, because that's how late everything was running.  Along with the snow, traffic was wretched, and no one was getting anywhere quickly.  I began to run my options over in my head.  I could drive to the park and ride, but I'm not allowed to park there for free because I still have ND plates.  I had already missed the bus that came before 4:51, because it only comes once an hour.  I could take the toll road to the airport, but then I'd have to park my car at the airport and pay a daily fee.  Or I could wait.  After all, Pasha shouldn't be that much longer.

Well, he arrived at my house at 4:45.  Because that's how bad the traffic was in the weather.  He said, "There's no way your bus is making it on time, either."  I called RTD to double-check that theory, and he was right.  We had plenty of time.  Except that it took us 15 minutes to go 4 blocks in town.  Not even kidding.  It was wretched.  I called once again, and still had time.  Too much time.

The bus that was supposed to have arrived at 4:51 arrived at 5:41.  No lies.  I knew that there was no way I was making it to the airport, but remained optimistic.  Maybe, just maybe.  No.  The highway was awful.  Traffic was killer, the weather was killer, life was killer.  I had no hope.  When I arrived at the airport at a little after 8:00, more than 2 hours after my scheduled arrival time, I went to the ticket counter and said, "I was supposed to be on the 7:42 flight to Fargo, but my bus just arrived 2 hours late."  The lady made a phone call and said, "Okay, well, get going.  They haven't left yet."  

I half-ran to my gate, only to find out that we still didn't have a plane or a crew.  Whew.  Made it in plenty of time.  After about an hour, they began boarding us.  Yaaaaaayyyy!  Mom and Dad had been in Fargo for hours already, waiting for me, keeping in contact to see if/when I'd be leaving.  They were probably just as excited as I was, if not more.  

So after boarding, we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And then when they tried to start the engines, one wouldn't because of too much ice built up.  So they knocked it free with brooms (high-quality maintenance there), but it wouldn't hold, so they called a de-icer over.  But before the de-icer made it over, they decided to cancel our flight.  After we had sat on the plane for about an hour, give or take a few minutes.  

Awesome.  So I called everyone and told them, and went to stand in line to talk to a gate agent.  Let me tell you how long that line was.  I can't even tell you, except that it took over 3 hours to get to the front.  And the rumor mill was grinding the whole time.  And during that period of time in my life, my cell phone died.  And my charger was in my checked baggage.  That was a problem.  A big one.  Now, I had nothing.  No way of contacting people.  

When I finally made it to the front of the line, I found my options.  I could get on a flight at 7:42 pm on Wednesday instead of Tuesday, or I could call and try to get a refund.  I decided to do both.  I'm officially checked in to leave DIA tomorrow night, one day later than I was originally scheduled for.  Which isn't so bad, except that no one knows that, because I can't call them and tell them.  And I went to go and get my checked bag to get my phone charger, but they wouldn't let me until tomorrow because there are just too many bags.  

So here I am, hanging out in DIA.  It's almost 4:00 in the morning, and I'm waiting for the first bus out of here, which leaves at 6:15 so that I can go home, charge my phone, and call my mom and the refund people.  The problem is that because my phone is dead, I have no alarm clock.  I'm afraid to fall asleep because I don't want to miss the bus.  And I have some decisions to make.  See, I'm scheduled to leave ND so early on Saturday morning that a trip my not be worth my time, unless I can't get a refund at all.  Then, I may as well go, just so as not to lose out on my $220.  Except that then Mom and Dad have to pick me up.  Again.  

What a mess. 

Someday soon, I'll tell you why I really like airports.  Just not today.  I don't like airports today.