TDR Travel Woes: Hanover to Delaware

By Michael C. Russell | Friday, November 4, 2005

First, the back story.

I currently write for The Dartmouth Review, an independent conservative newspaper that comments on the College and criticizes the administration when it fouls up. Now that I've made myself the lackey of the Review, I've gotten all kinds of cool kick backs, like money, internships, invites to private social events, etc. So back in September, my editor blitzed me and asked if I would like to go to Delaware for an editor's conference in October. I certainly felt honored and immediately answered in the affirmative.

Poor choice.

It turns out the reason they needed me to go was that it was Homecoming Weekend, and in my pea-green ignorance, I had no idea I was going to miss the most debaucherous night of the term.

I was headed to Delaware's beautiful Brandywine Valley with Kale Bongers, the resident wrongfully-accused "racist a**hole" of the Review on Friday, October 21. Our flight was to leave Lebanon airport (about 15 minutes away) at 6:45, so we scheduled a cab to pick us up at 5:45 in front of the Student's Center.

So I, in my infinite wisdom figured the best way to fly was to fly after watching movies till 3 AM in my friend's room. Unfortunately, I hadn't packed or otherwise prepared for the trip in anyway prior to going out and set to it, packing my suit case, collecting all my homework, and most importantly, setting my alarm for 5 AM. I devised an overly complicated system of sharp and heavy objects to place around the snooze button so that if I tried to hit it I would be woken up by the sharp pain. By this time it was about 4 AM, and I decided it was time for an hour-long powernap to get psyched for tomorrow.

I awoke at up 7:45. Damn. But Mike Russell, not to be conquered by something as simple as missing his flight, called up the airport and spoke to 'Carol' on the phone, who said that she could easily reschedule me for the next flight at 10 AM. Awesome.

Now there are going to be several points you want to remember because they come into play later in the story. The first is that Kale, the editor I was traveling with, had caught the flight at 6:45 and was already on his way to Delaware. Remember this.

I arrived at the airport at around 8:30 after calling for a cab and taking a quick rinse in the shower. Now imagine those backwater Fargo-like airports with a couple of benches and a vending machine; that was this airport. There was even a deceiving sign: "Restaurant ->" that led to an empty lot. But no problem; I was only going to be there for an hour, and you don't exactly need much mental stimulation outside of a book for an hour.

After arriving at the airport I tracked down 'Carol,' who said that I could catch a connecting flight from LaGuardia to Philly (my final destination) at 12:25, 1:45, and 3:20. She printed out my ticket to LaGuardia from Lebanon, but as there was a problem with printing the ticket for the second flight, she booked me for it electronically and said I just needed to check in at the desk when I got there. Remember this.

When 9:50 rolled around and there was still no plane I decided to inquire where exactly it was, because I like to keep on top of these things. 'Carol' then informed me that the plane actually hadn't left LaGuardia, yet and that it was experiencing some mechanical problems. Thus ensued a wait of three and a half hours, during which time I set the top three scores at Tetris, until the plane arrived at 1:30 PM.

It is important for me to mention here that I use the term plane in the loosest possible way. It sat a mere 18 people in single seats on two aisles.

Well, by the grace of God, we took off and arrived at LaGuardia with no trouble besides the never-ending turbulence. Now my first two possibilities for connecting flights had already left by the time we landed at LaGuardia (3:10), so when we pulled up to the gate, I had five minutes to get my luggage, find the next gate, get to the next gate, check in, and get on.

I get off the plane and asked the attendant "Where's the flight to Philly?" She looks it up and replies "Gate 25." I do a quick check to determine my present location: Gate 1. Damn. Cue Mike running down the terminal to Gate 25, which he makes with a minute to spare.

Now a break for the conversation at the desk.

"Hello, my name's Mike Russell, I just came in from Lebanon and I need to check in for this flight."

"Hold on one second sir... (pause) Um, I have you listed on a flight to Pittsburgh?"

"No, no. The lady at Lebanon switched my flight."

"Hmm, it seems she cancelled all your other flights. I'm sorry you're not on this flight"

"... What? Is there anything you can do?"

"I can put you on standby for this flight."

"Oy, fine, thank you."

Well, needless to say, I don't make the standby, but they tell me I can get on the 6 PM to Philly. So I take them up on the offer and decide to go up to the food court and get something to eat, since I've had nothing but a bag of Lays potato chips at Lebanon. I decide on some General Tso's chicken, because if there's one thing New Hampshire lacks, it's foreign people, and I was craving some ethnic food. Well I was so annoyed that no amount of MSG was going to convince me to take more than two bites.

I killed the next two hours by calling home, checking my blitz and setting up the shuttle that I was going to take from Philly to the hotel in Delaware. At 5:45 I return to the Gate in high spirits to await my final flight of the day. Alas, our God is not always a benevolent God.

The lady at the desk informs us that "All passengers connecting to international flights at Philly, you will miss your flights. This flight is delayed till at least 8:30 or 9 o'clock." I was on the phone with my friend Eugene at the time, to whom I would like to apologize; I never have said most of those words so loudly in my life.

I told Eugene that I had to call him back because I was far too frustrated to talk, and my phone was running out of power. So I walk the quarter-mile (literally, it's posted) to the other end of the terminal where I can plug in my phone. My parents then tell me to check to make sure they didn't just cancel the flight, and ask if they have to find my way home somehow. I tell them I'll do this and approach the ticketing desk and ask about the status of the flight. She tells me the flight started boarding five minutes ago, and oh by the way, you'll never make it.

Well I wasn't going to be beaten, so I ran my tail off and was doubled over by the time I made it to the gate. Of course this was unnecessary because the plane was on the tarmac for another 45 minutes. But I met a nice guy named Steve; he's from Cherry Hill and has two kids. Swell guy.

The arrival at Philly was uneventful and my shuttle arrived about an hour after I did � timely by this day's standard.

I arrive at the hotel at around 10 PM and approach the desk. (For those interested, the dinner for the conference began at 6 PM and ended at 9 PM; I batted a thousand, seriously.) So I approach the desk:

"Hi my name's Mike Russell, I'm here to check in."

"Mr. Russell we don't seem to have you listed."

"Hmm, well you might want to check under Kale Bongers, he's the guy I'm staying with."

"Mr. Bongers seems to be checked into a King-sized single."

Cue the other lady behind desk: "Oh yeah, he said you weren't coming."

The hunt was on.

I found Kale. I've never seen anyone laugh so hard, nor have I ever I wanted to punch anyone so hard. We go up to the desk and attempt to sort this all out. However it seems that the hotel rented out our room, along with every other double they have, so we're going to have to share a room. By the way, Kale's an '07 so you know what's next...

"You're a freshman you can sleep on the floor!" Complete with hand gestures.

I then turn to the manager and ask him to at least send up a rolling cot. Fresh out tonight. Awesome. So I go to the concierge desk, where I ask for my luggage and she asks how it went. I tell her and she says that she won't let that happen and sets me up in a room, on the executive floor. This lady's up for sainthood.

So since my bag of Lays and piece of General Tso's chicken didn't really provide enough calories for the day, I ask where I can grab some food. She says "Here, why don't you just order yourself some room service, sweetie." I order myself some very nice complimentary room service and head up to my room to decompress. Remember.

Well, the rest of the night was not so dramatic. I just ate some less than exquisite room service and watched some television.

The remainder of the trip was stressful, though not as bad Friday, so if you want to find out about Sunday's misadventures, just ask. But I leave you with one last piece of irony. When Kale and I went up to the desk on Saturday to switch from our two rooms into one, we're informed that I have a charge on my room, a nice $36 room service bill, complimentary of the hotel.

In conclusion, if you didn't laugh, good, because neither did I. This story is not to serve as a humorous anecdote but as a warning to the rest of you: beware of editors bearing gifts.

TDR Travel Woes: Hanover to Delaware

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