This is not what you want to hear on the news the night before you fly out of Austin, Texas, so you can get home in time to take your kid trick or treating: “Today’s storm was one of the worst we’ve seen in Texas … houses flooded … roads washed out … people climbing trees to escape the floodwaters … 14 inches of rain fell at the airport … air traffic control tower damaged … check your flights … expect delays … It’s Halloween. You’re DOOMED!!! MUHAHAHA!”
Commence panic attack.
I was at a conference in Austin and had lined up a flight early enough on Halloween to get back for the candy run. My daughter turns 10 this Christmas and you never know how many Halloweens you have left. So I had to be there.
This meant getting out of the hotel by 5:45 a.m. Getting through security quick. Avoiding delays. Praying for good weather. Making a connecting flight in Houston. Flying like we had a mad dog on our tail. And not climbing a tree to escape floodwaters.
This is not what you want to hear from your pilots as they walk up to your gate: “Hmmm … interesting. That’s not our plane?”
I don’t like curious pilots. I don’t like surprised pilots. I don’t like pilots who seem as stupefied as the rest of us nincompoops — the ones wondering why there are no gate attendants and the departure sign says something about Wallahaga, Tenn., not Houston, Texas.
An airline pilot should never ask a schmuck like me, “Is this the right gate?”
That’s when my phone started buzzing. Airline flight notifications. My next flight out of Houston was delayed. Bad weather there. Real bad. The previous flight was diverted. Lucky people were going to Tulsa. Tulsa!?!
Back in Austin, our intrepid pilots found their airplane, only to find that weather was going to delay us, too.
Trick or treating, people! I gotta’ get home.
This not what you want to hear from the gate crew when you finally get to Houston and your next plane finally arrives, three hours late: “Ladies and gentlemen, your plane to Jacksonville is now at the gate. However, we are now waiting on a crew to fly it.”
And I’m thinking, “They’ve done this before, right?” First pilots losing planes, and then planes losing pilots.
I pictured some poor gate attendant asking random people, “Have you ever flown a Embraer RJ145? Do you think you could give it a try?”
This was what you want to hear when you finally touchdown in Jacksonville: “Ladies and gentlemen, your long ordeal is over. Please feel free to unbuckle your seat belts and curse airline travel. Happy Halloween. Next time take the train.”
Somehow I had I made it. A little late, but couldn’t miss trick or treating. Not unless floodwaters chased me up a tree.