After our family enjoyed various vacations via road trip, my daughter and I planned a much-anticipated trip on our own to the United Kingdom.
Our travel was to begin with a 9 a.m. flight to Chicago. Then, the airline rescheduled us for a flight at 5 a.m. And so began our saga.
We arrived in Nashville in time for our connecting flight to Chicago. This isn't so bad. We grabbed our luggage and headed to the international terminal. The serpentine line wound through the departure area. TSA experience was …TSA.
Finally on board! My tech-savvy daughter couldn't turn on her television. A courteous flight attendant responded to her request for assistance.
“Well," she confided in hushed tones, “It is probably broken. This airplane is crap.” Just what you want to hear as you head out over the Atlantic.
We arrived at Heathrow along with our luggage. All was right with the world.
Our return trip was more of an adventure. Heathrow crowds made the O’Hare masses appear sparse. Eventually, we were on our plane. All went well until we hit Chicago. One flight after another canceled.
The boarding area was overwhelmed with passengers for three consecutive delayed flights. Then flight “A” boarded. Flights “B” and “C” began to feel hopeful. Then came the announcement that flight “A" passengers” were being taken off the recently boarded but now canceled flight.
Flight “B” was moved to a different gate. I noticed a high school choral group with chaperones. Bless those chaperones traveling with a group of teens.
We waited. The choral group began serenading the airline crowds with Harry Belafonte’s calypso version of “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)". Thanks to them, the mood lightened and, several hundred passengers joined in song. Bless those teens.
Finally, we boarded the plane for Nashville. With the tight schedule in mind, we scrambled to the first available seats. Of course, we each got a middle seat. My daughter sat between two people who she, in her 20s, described as “really old.” Turns out they were married but didn't want to sit next to each other (cue to ominous music OR is this the secret to a long marriage?). Prior to takeoff, “ Marge” reached over my daughter, accidentally hitting her and yelling various instructions to “Norm.” This scenario repeated itself throughout the entire flight. “Marge” and “Norm” bellowed at each other while “ Marge” inadvertently battered my daughter while reaching over to “ Norm.” And so it continued.
Almost 30 hours after leaving our hotel in London, we arrived at 1 a.m. to be embraced by the humid, welcoming air of Louisiana.
True to the title of this tale, our travel plans for the near future will abandon flying and head out “on the road again.”
— Wisbar lives in Baton Rouge.
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