The trip that wouldn’t end…

Recently I decided to take a page out of my brother-in-law's playbook (probably a bad sign right there) and help Amy and Sydney drive to see friends in Tennessee. I would fly back home for the week, and then fly back out to meet them and help drive home. Amy and Sydney would stay in Tennessee for the week, but I could not take time of from work, so that was the bright idea we came up with.

We left last Friday afternoon and drove as far as Memphis before stopping for the night. We then drove the rest of the way to her friend's house on Saturday. All in all it was not too bad a trip, despite getting a late start and hitting rush-hour squarely in the brake lights. (Envision getting 10 miles in an hour and fifteen minutes.)

I was tired from the drive to Tennessee on Friday and Saturday as well as the excitement of seeing friends and keeping up with a sleep-deprived Sydney. As a result, I was glad to get on the plane and settle in for the trip back home from Nashville. It is a quick 2-hour hop from Nashville to DFW, and I was traveling lightly with just my laptop, the clothes I had worn to church that morning and then changed out of, and a few cosmetic items I didn't have duplicates of at home like my toothbrush and deodorant. Everything else, including the rest of my clothing for the trip and even my contact solution, I left with Amy so I could be baggage free.

A little over an hour into the flight, we started banking significantly. From previous experience I knew it was not a good sign. Sure enough, the captain came over the PA system and explained that we were going to have to hold for a while because storms were surrounding the airport and there was only one narrow corridor for planes to approach. Traffic was stacking up and it would be a while.

About half an hour later, the captain explained that we had used up the fuel we had for holding, and we would be diverting to Austin to refuel. Again from previous experience, I knew this meant at least another hour delay. Since our flight had been scheduled to arrive at 9pm before the half hour holding pattern, this all of a sudden meant my father-in-law who had offered to pick me up was going to have a late night. Sure enough, about an hour later we (and 10 other American Airlines aircraft) had been refuled by the folks in Austin and we took off again headed for Dallas. About 15 minutes later, the captain announced that due to all of the diversions, traffic was really stacked up and we were again having to hold short until we could be squeezed in. Another round of groans, and another half-hour of circling. We were then cleared to proceed to DFW only to be told 5 minutes later that another line of storms was shutting DFW down for at least an hour. This time we diverted to San Antonio!

Once on the ground in San Antonio at about 11:15pm, the *engage sarcasm* OH-so-helpful ground personnel *end sarcasm* told us four things. First, the crew had passed their allowed duty time, and was being forced to get some rest before going anywyere. That I can understand, if not gladly. Second, there was "a convention" in town and they were not able to find any hotel rooms for us. In the entire city. Of San Antonio. This is not a small town we're talking about here! I'm highly skeptical. Third, airport security was making it clear that we had to clear out beyond the security checkpoint and could not stay in the terminal area. Fourth, they handed us a little slip of paper with several paragraphs of information and an 800 number to call "in the morning" to see about being re-ticketed. I don't know what the slip of paper said, because it was entirely in Spanish...

Summary: Welcome to San Antonio! We have no place for you to go, but you sure as shootin' can't stay here! Call us in the morning and we'll see what we can do to get you where you wanted to go. Goodnight!

I'm getting worked up writing this, so I think I'll have to keep you waiting for the rest of the story. Rest assured, though, it gets better. Or perhaps I should say worse...