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Vancouver, Canada
49° 15' N 123° 7' W
Aug 05, 2005 07:08
Distance 3361km

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Finally in Vancouver

Text written in: English

Well, I made it.
 
For those of you who don't know, I HATE flying.  We're not talking about a casual hatred here, like my hatred for George Bush, we're talking about a full on loathing, like my hatred for his son, George W. haha.
 
Still, on with the story.
 
So I started drinking about 10:00am, on August 2nd, as is my way when I am forced to get on a plane.  I refuse to let my fear/hatred of flying from stopping me doing the things I want to do.  But damn it, if I'm gonna voluntarily put myself 7 miles above the earths surface, hurtling along at 1000 Km/h, I want to numb as much of my brain as possible.  If I don't, it tends to morbidly stare out of the window, reminding me what a horribly precarious situation I am in, and how every last single piece of the plane I am on is the only thing standing between me and certain death.  That's right folks, my 'steal the last life jacket, break the nearest window with a small child while racing his mother to the last lifeboat' approach is not gonna help me out much on a plane!
 
So by the time Air France goes down, I was smashed.  I rebooked my flight for 7:30 for the next morning, and just staggered out of the airport.  I didn't even bother with my luggage, I figured they would know what to do.  Upon arriving home, I was somehow talked into going to the bar.  The rest of the night is a COMPLETE blur.
 
I was roused by my alarm clock at 5:35 am, and headed back to the airport for my 7:30 flight.  Upon arriving at the airport, I found out I had been bumped to the 11:40 flight.  I would have been pissed, but hey, a plane crashed there the day before, so what can you do.  It was this exact moment that my ipod ran out of batteries, since some drunk had left it playing all night (me).  I also conveniently didn't have the charger with me, so what do I do - hop a bus BACK downtown, pick up my gear, wake up Gavin for a quick smoke / drink, and hop on a bus back to the airport for the 3rd time in 20 hours.
 
I had a quick 32oz pint at the bar, and headed to the gate.  I figured at this point I may as well ask someone about my luggage.
 
"is this a technical question sir?" the gate attendant said.
 
"is 'where's the damn plane I'm supposed to get on' a technical question?"
 
"It's not here"
 
"I see that, well let's try an easier one, where's my luggage"
 
"what do you mean"
 
"well after everything went down yesterday, I went home, one of your employees told me my bags would get to Vancouver"

there are a couple of quick radio calls at this point.
 
"sir, your bags are probably two of the 800 unclaimed bags sitting in lost luggage"
 
Shit.  I ran.  Plane supposed to leave 11:40, current time 11:36, situation: Screwed.  I made it to lost luggage AND found my bags by 11:40.  I ran upstairs to check in, skipping the entire line with shouts of 'it's an emergency', and briefly described the situation. "Sir, your flight was supposed to leave one minute ago, and you want us to check the bags NOW?!" was the answer I got (fair enough I may add). I told them the plane was not yet at the gate, and why don't we try for fun just to see what happens.  This fact was disputed for a bit before I assured them that I was in fact at the gate 6 minutes earlier, and for sure the inbound was not there.  The guy now decides to oblige me, slaps 2 new tags on my bags - points to a guy standing around, and said, go up to him, say flight 817, and he'll know what to do.  He did. Him and a buddy grabbed my bags and took off running like they had just stolen them.  I ran back through security, and made it back to the gate for 11:48.  The staff were laughing at me, and told me I may have just set the record for leaving the gate, doing all that stuff and still making it onto the plane.  And you know what else, my bags did as well.  They were among the first off the plane in Vancouver.  Show up 2 hours before check in?!  Bugger that, next time I'm showing up 2 minutes before my flight is due to leave.