Murphy’s Law is true. Last Friday, I was scheduled to go visit my sister in Salt Lake City. The day started out just fine, and at 1:10 PM, right on time, my Delta flight took off from San Jose International Airport. 7 1/2 hours later, I landed, in a different plane, at Salt Lake City International Airport. The usual flight time between the two? 1 1/2 hours.
So what on earth happened? Well, let me tell you. My first inkling of doom should have been when, right before we took off, the captain apologized for the unnatural warmth in the cabin, explaining that our plane’s APU (the auxiliary power unit), which supplies power to the air conditioner, was out. As the captain assured us that would not interfere with the flying of the plane, I paid scant attention.
The flight was uneventful right up until about 20 minutes before we were supposed to land. I was woken up from a fitful sleep by the captain’s voice coming over the PA system. He said that due to “microbursts” (also known as “wind shear”) at the SLC airport, the entire airport had been shut down. Now, our plane didn’t happen to have enough fuel to keep circling the airport, so the captain decided to divert the plane to the nearest airport, in Pocatello, Idaho, home of the Idaho State University Bengals. There, we were to refuel the plane and wait until the SLC airport was open again.
So we landed, and I noticed that we were one of 4 planes that had likewise been diverted from SLC. Now this is when the real trouble began. After about 20 minutes of sitting in the stationary plane, the captain came over the PA system again. He said that we would have to, naturally, shut down the engines in order to refuel the plane. However, once a plane’s engines have been shut down, it’s only got two ways of starting them up again. One is by using the “start cart”, which must be some sort of large battery used to provide power for start-up. The second is, you guessed it, the APU. Now, the Pocatello airport is very small; it has only 5 gates. It also has no start cart. So we had a conundrum. We couldn’t fly to SLC without fuel, and we couldn’t refuel without shutting the engines down, but if we shut the engines down, we had no way of starting the plane up again to get back to SLC.
So the captain and the flight crew did some negotiating and rearranging, and they determined that they’d have to move all the passengers on our plane (minus the people who had been trying to get to Pocatello in the first place, and who therefore would not have to go back to SLC) to the other three diverted planes, and just shut down the engines and wait for repairs to the APU.
Problem #1: After fitting as many people as possible into the other three planes (about 70 in the first, 30 in the second, and 4 or 5 in the third), there would still be 25 people left over. These people would then have to re-book connections on two SkyWest flights that were scheduled to come in later that evening: one at 6 PM and one at 9 PM. I was sitting near the middle of the plane, so I figured I’d get into one of the planes for sure.
Problem #2: So they started moving passengers. They shut down the engines, which meant that, with the APU out, there was no air and no illumination in the plane. It was stifling. They took the first 70 passengers off the plane, but said that the rest had to remain on the plane. Why? Well, since Pocatello is, as I mentioned, a very small airport, there are no jetways, only stairs for disembarking passengers. But even so, why would we have to remain on the plane, you ask? Because there was only one set of stairs. So once the first 70 passengers had gotten off the plane, they’d move the stairs over to another plane to load them, bring the stairs back, and begin the whole process again. After about 20 minutes in the still air, they brought the stairs back, and everyone else got off the plane.
This is our plane sitting on the tarmac.
Problem #3: Since everyone got off the plane at the second attachment of the stairs, the order of the seats was destroyed; everyone was milling around, and those who were quick off the draw got on the second plane (30 passengers). I was not, of course, quick off the draw. Then there were only 4 spots left on the last plane, and one family got to take those spots. Where was I? Stuck on the tarmac with the rest of the losers who would have to book the SkyWest connections.
The unlucky ones.
Problem #4: So we trooped inside the airport, out past security and to the ticket counter so that we could book our connections. I got in line, again somewhere in the middle, and as I was watching, the ticket printing machine broke down. The (by now extremely harried) desk agent started hand-writing the boarding passes. She kept getting distracted, every few minutes, by some member or airport staff or other, asking questions. So, 20 minutes later, she’d only helped 5 people, and I was still waiting in line, when someone came to interrupt her again. It seemed a mechanic had been out to look at the plane while we were trying to relocate everyone, and they thought that they’d be able to start our original plane. Hallelujah, right? Wrong.
Problem #5: First we had to wait for our plane, and the other three, which still hadn’t taken off, to be refueled. There were only two fuel trucks at the Pocatello airport, and—wait for it—one was broken. So we trooped right back to the gate, having to go through security (again), to wait to get back on our original plane, which after about 30 minutes we did. This was great, I thought. A 300-seat plane for 11 people? Awesome! I sprawled out on 3 seats and waited for the plane to start so we could get back to SLC. 20 minutes later, the plane still hadn’t started, and the captain came over the PA again. They couldn’t, in fact, get the plane to start, so we’d have to go back to the terminal and book connections on the 9 PM SkyWest flight, since by then it was well past 6.
Problem #6: So we trooped back into the airport (again), out past security (again), to the ticket counter (again) so that we could book our connections on the SkyWest flight (again). When we got there, the ticket printing machine was (surprise) still broken. While the gate agent worked to get it printing again, she gave us all vouchers to the airport gift shop so we could get some food. By then I was seriously considering just renting a car to drive down to SLC, but as it was a 2.5 hour drive there from Pocatello, and the 9 PM flight would be leaving within 1.5 hours (it was 7:30 by that time), I’d still get there faster if I waited for the plane.
Problem #7: So I took my gift shop vouchers to the gift shop, and got myself some dinner: a bag of pretzels, a bottle of Diet Coke, and what was perhaps the worst ham and cheese sandwich ever made. I mean it. In the history of sandwiches, that one had a special place. Now, lest you think that I was pulling my hair out by that time, let me assure you that I had been thus far very good-humored (if I do say so myself) about the whole situation. I figured I could get upset and make the whole situation worse for myself, or just wait it out patiently. I chose to wait it out patiently. Well, eventually the SkyWest flight arrived, and we went through security (yet again) to get on the plane; which, as an Embraer Brasilia prop-plane, was quite a downgrade from our original Boeing 737-800. Of course, the fact that it had a working engine was a big plus. Finally, we took off, and after a short 30 minute flight, we landed in SLC. Problem over, right? Wrong.
Problem #8: When they had been relocating passengers from our plane to the other three, they had just randomly and indiscriminately taken the luggage from our plane and put it on the other three planes. As a result, by the time I took off from the Pocatello airport, I had no idea where my checked bag was. When I landed in SLC, of course not having seen my bag among the ones on the carousel, I joined the huge line of passengers from my original flight in front of the Delta baggage services office to try and track down my bag. By the time I got up to the counter, I was informed that my bag had not arrived yet at the SLC airport. By this time, I was starting to get a little irritated, but they assured me that they’d deliver it to my sister’s place, most likely first thing in the morning, so that there would be minimum inconvenience. OK, I thought, this is no big deal. So I gave them my sister’s home address and various contact phone numbers, and went to her place to go to bed.
Problems #9, 10: The next morning, I woke up a few minutes before 7:30, so that I’d be awake to answer the phone or go downstairs to pick up my luggage. 8:00 came and went, and there was still no sign of my luggage. So I took out the little form with the file reference number they had given me the night before, and I called the 800 number on it to try and figure out where my bag was. After being on hold for a few minutes, I got through and immediately realized that I’d been directed to a call center in India (while the agent spoke flawless English, he had an accent and pronounced my name perfectly the first time). What the hell could someone who was in no way affiliated with any airport, who was moreover halfway across the world, do to help me with my bag in the USA? Nevertheless, I explained my situation, he did some checking, and found that my bag was still not in the SLC airport. He said all he could do was send telexes to the three airports I’d been through to look out for my bag, and I’d have to call back in 6-8 hours. 6-8 hours?! I hadn’t taken a shower in 24 hours, I had no clothes, and by now I was starting to work up a full head of steam. So I thanked him politely, hung up, and fumed.
Problems #11, 12: I got to thinking, and I figured, if I could find out what those other three diverted planes’ flight numbers had been, I could figure out what their final destinations were, and then have more airports to check to see if my bag had gotten there by mistake. So I called back to India, was put on hold, and got a different person, who said he couldn’t look up flights without their numbers. So if the Delta employee couldn’t help me out, who the hell was I supposed to call to figure it out? I hung up, more frustrated than before, and decided to try and call the general access number to see if someone, somewhere else in their system, would be able to track down the bag, since God knows the people in the baggage services office were useless. So I called the different number, and guess where I got connected? You got it. India. This time, the lady I talked to was completely unwilling to help me out, and told me I really needed to call the baggage services number. I tried to explain that I’d already called them, to no avail, but she was not interested in listening to me. So I finally got fed up and hung up on her. By this time I was ready to punch holes in walls, knock some heads together, and in general cause mayhem.
Having realized the futility of trying to call any of Delta’s general numbers, which would only connect me to a call center in India, I called 411 to get the Delta baggage services office number in the SLC airport. The operator said he didn’t have a number for that office, but he could connect me to the Delta ticket office and maybe they could transfer me. I said yes, and 75 cents and 30 seconds later, I heard the off-the-hook signal, followed by a message saying that the number I was trying to reach had been disconnected. Perfect. Fricking perfect. So, as a last ditch effort, I called the SLC airport and asked to be connected to the Delta baggage services office. This time I got connected to a valid number, but no one was picking up. I hung up and called again, and finally I got a hold of someone. I explained my situation (for the 4th time), and he said my bag was still not at the airport, but he’d do his best to find it. He also mentioned that calling the centers in India was worthless (as if I hadn’t already figured that out the hard way), and told me to call back later.
By this time, I was just desperate for a shower, so my sister kindly drove me to the local grocery store and the local Old Navy, where I stocked up on enough clothes and toiletries for the weekend, on the off chance that they couldn’t find my bag at all. Finally I was able to take a shower, which did wonders for my mood, and we went to lunch with some friends. After lunch, we decided that we’d just swing by the airport in person to look for my bag, because we figured that was the only way to get anything done. We went back to my sister’s place to pick up my baggage claim tag, and just after we arrived, we got a call from the airport saying they’d found my bag and it would be delivered within 15 minutes. So finally, finally, I had my bag, some new clothes, and peace of mind.
The rest of the weekend was blissfully uneventful, and I made it back to California with no incident on Monday. What’s left? For me to call Delta up and royally bitch them out for their completely useless customer service people. Maybe I’ll get something free out of it.