I'm at the Pittsburgh airport, Concourse D. I’ve
gotten to know it quite well over the last 24 hours. Yesterday, I arrived at
the aiport around noon, waited in the security line, took the train to the
departures terminal and found my gate a good hour and a half before take-off –
like a responsible traveler. Gate D80. Our departure time came and went while
we were being provided with updates from our gate agent roughly once every ten
minutes. I wandered. I found a Starbucks as well as some nice tables with
comfortable chairs, and stood in line behind a besuited businessman who
sheepishly asks for a lattice of extra caramel on his iced latte and turns to
me and says this caramel is the highlight of this day. Back to D80. Our last
update was just to tell us when our next update will be. It is now three hours
past the original departure time. The problem is not in Pittsburgh; the problem
is in New York City. Weather. I’m not even trying to go to NYC, simply through
it to Frankfurt. But in NYC, nothing is going in or out. Eventually, our flight
was cancelled. I was rebooked for an early afternoon flight the next day to catch
the exact same flight from JFK 24 hours later.
Now, seasoned travelers will know that this
type of cancellation entitles the travelers to practically nothing. (When there
is a mechanical malfunction, some maintenance problem that even just delays a
flight, you might be eligible for compensation as those are technically the
airline’s fault. That's what happened to C and myself a few months ago, during
our saga of a return from California.) This means that this time, even
though I needed to find accommodation for the night, the airline could offer me
at best a „distressed rate“ at one particular hotel (which may even have been
full, considering the number of passengers who were delayed until the next day)
– and that’s all. Even that distressed rate would have been a blow. But
luckily, serendipitously, my mother – who had dropped me off at the airport a
mere 6.5 hours previously – was still in the general area doing work, and she
could simply pick me up again.
We had a lovely evening and a relaxed morning together,
and here I am again – but now I know the terminal. I go to the faster
alternative security checkpoint, which I didn’t do yesterday. I don’t fight
with the water fountain that insists on pouring water horizontally, at an angle
that doesn’t agree with the neck of my reusable water bottle. Instead, I head
to the water-bottle refilling station that I found late in the afternoon
yesterday. I go back to the same Starbucks to get a cup of tea – the gentleman
behind the counter looks at me. I look at him. „Were you here yesterday?“ –
„Yes. Were you?“ He was kind yesterday and is kind again today, giving me an
extra tea bag in case my journey today gets delayed again and tells me I can
just come back and they’ll give me a cup of hot water for that teabag. I won’t
tell him that my backpack is stuffed with Peets coffee.
For now, I’m enjoying my tea and then I’ll it's back to – believe it
or not – D80, where I sincerely hope, pleasant as this has been, that it does
not all begin again.
