Tucson again, maybe...

Well, here we go again. This time I was prepared. I had called the Tucson police ahead of time letting them know I was going to be in town. Should be smooth sailing right…. I swear this is the universes way of telling me you need to be a standup comedian. There is no other reason this should happen to one person.
There’s a reason I don’t fly Delta, I tell myself that every time I travel but for some unknown reason I thought it would be nice to take a quick little jaunt on my good friends down to Phoenix. Leaving Sunday night, should be no problem; big snowstorm, no problem; flight delay, of course not, Delta, BIG PROBLEM. Every time I fly Southwest, I always seem to know what’s going on. I think the reason is the employees TELL YOU! Sunday night was the biggest joke in aviation history, with the exception of that 90 year old guy who wing walks while flying over the Grand Canyon. Let me share with you a small insight as to what transpired this lovely evening:

Flight boards at 7:30 pm. I have done this a thousand times. I am getting really good at this whole airport traveling thing, but something is nagging at me, something I have not sensed since…

Midway through the second boarding group the overhead bins are full. Are you kidding me? Full? How is that possible we still have about 80 people to load. Here is the fun part; the plane is full of people in the aisle so this means we all have to back the truck up and check all the carry-on luggage. Needless to say after finally getting everyone on then off then on again, we are running about 20 minutes late. No worries, Delta and the ONE announcement the pilot has made tells me we are good to go. Good thing, because when I land, it would suck to have a two hour drive to my hotel. Should be no big deal right? Wrong.

Remember the aforementioned snowstorm, well it’s time to play. We need to de-ice the plane now. We have been sitting for 45 minutes now and supposedly we are in line to de-ice. I see the trucks on both sides of the plane, I count at least 9 trucks sitting waiting to de-ice planes so this should be no big deal. I have done this before this should really only be a few minutes, then it’s off to the runway and away we go.

When I was a kid we used to hose down the driveway when it was muddy (we had no concern for the environment or lack of water back then). With my hose I could spray clean an entire 2 car driveway plus the gutter in about 10 minutes. Apparently with 5,000 psi automated nozzles, two bucket trucks, two ground crew and 3 gagillion gallons of deicer it takes 30 minutes to de-ice a small MD-90 airplane. Of course when I was young I did not count the “sit around and talk for 15 minutes before we start doing anything factor”. I swear I had the worst seat on the plane. I could see the entire process:

-pull up to the plane
-stop and wait
-talk to your buddies
-check the nozzle
-talk to your buddies
-do a test spray
-back up
-test spray again
-talk to your buddies
-fake like you’re going to start but then stop to talk on the raido
-test spray
You get the idea.

I am now starting to get slightly irritated, and we haven’t even taxied to the runway yet. It’s now 8:45 and the pilot decides it’s time to take that leisurely stroll to get in line to see if we can think about taking off. I mean, no big deal to him right? We slowly, and I mean like drag your kids through the mall on Black Friday slowly, ease up to what seems like it may be something similar to and resembling that of a runway approach. The pilot finally comes on to assure us we are third in line for takeoff and thanks us for our patience and tells us it won’t be but a few more minutes.

After sitting at a dead stop for 30 minutes while the pilot finished his Sudoku we inch forward and seem to be doing what could slightly misconstrued as next in line. There is still no word from the pilot as to why it is now an hour and change past our departing time, other than thanking us for our patience. No matter, we are moving toward the runway and certain progress, we make the turn onto runway 34R the engines start to whine, the stewardess have crosschecked the cabin (whatever that means, what is a crosscheck anyway?) and we are ready to roll. We ease down the runway slowly building up speed, any second now I will feel the rush of power telling me I am off on another adventure. Any minute now… any minute now… we are a good 250 feet down the runway and it feels like the pilot is window shopping on Main Street. He is just casually sauntering down the runway, no speed, no pick up, no nothing. Finally he comes over the intercom and tells us Salt Lake International tells us they just closed this runway because it is too slippery and it is too dangerous for braking. Now I am no pilot, and I certainly have not had anywhere near the training of the highly motivated professionals at Delta Airlines, but I thought when you were taking off, you needed LESS braking and MORE speed. I thought the purpose of a takeoff, was to reduce the braking and increase the going faster. Who knew?

The pilot jumps on again telling us we now have been re-routed to runway 34L so it shouldn’t be too much longer and we would just go around and get in line to take off. I am running the time in my head and am thinking if we don’t get off the ground soon, we are going to have to de-ice again. We had a lovely 20 minute drive all over Salt Lake International’s runway and taxi lanes, it’s beautiful country on a snowy winter night. If you ever get the chance to be stranded, by all means, take it.

At last we make our way over to the runway when the pilot gently calls overhead telling us we are now second in line for takeoff. I watch as two planes to our left pull in ahead and then turn out of my view. I hear the roar of their engines, they are gone. We should be moving forward…. Then I see a plane come in to land. HMMMM? Curious, I thought we were number 3? Our loving and ever honest pilot now comes on to calmly tell us we need to try and let some of the air traffic clear so we need to let two planes land before we can take off. From my seat I can see them coming in. One, two, three, four, another plane takes off in front of us, five six, seven, still nothing, eight, nine. Nine friggin planes land all while we are sitting there. I am way past patient and have saddled my way over to angry. Still we sit.

The pilot then comes over the intercom and tells us there is a medical emergency on board and we may have to go back to the gate. Its now 10:30, almost three hours past our departure time and NOW we have a medical emergency? Tell you what chief, I am going to have a serious bladder emergency if we don’t get this bucket off the ground, and from the sounds of it, looks like another 100 or so people are as well.
I know what we should do, let’s take another stroll all around Salt Lake International runways to see what is the longest possible trip to the gate. Seriously, we taxied around for another 30 minutes. I am thinking, the emergency can’t be such a huge deal, every other plane on the planet seems to get priority over us so really, what’s a heart attck among friends?

11 pm, we finally arrive at our gate, the stewardess comes on this time to tell us, it wasn’t really a medical emergency, but a nervous passenger who wants off. REALLY? ARE YOU SERIOUS? SHE’S NERVOUS!!!! Well then, by all means, let’s just inconvenience the other 148 passengers who have now sat through three hours of frustration. No big deal.

We have taxied so far and been out so long, we have to refuel. What kind of mileage do these things get anyway? We are now told, it will be just a few moments before we are on our way, but if anyone needs to use the restroom please feel free. It was like the running of the bulls.

At 11:30 we start to push back, only there is a twist. We have pulled into the wrong gate, and we can’t get out normally. We have essentially pulled into a dead end and have to be pushed 14 gates backwards so there is room to turn the plane around. Not really sure those little tank things are meant to back planes about 3 ½ miles. After the pilot gets the plane rolling again, guess what? Oh yeah! De-Icing! It’s my favorite, and by now, I am fairly certain I have a new career option, I have seen it done so many times. Again with the 30 minute de-icing (see steps above) and we are off right? I mean it’s now midnight; we started this lovely journey into insanity and frustration four and a half hours ago. Well you’d be wrong. It’s now time to sit at the deicing pad for another 15 minutes while, well, nothing happens, nothing from the pilot, the stewardesses, the trucks, CIA, FBI, sesame street, Dora, nothing. Nobody is doing anything, except the planes next to us. I see three, count them three planes pull up, deice and leave. (they must have washed driveways in their youth).

Finally at 12:20 we motor on over to the runway and sit ready for takeoff. Just shy of five hours on the plane and we have moved about 500 yards from where we started. The pilot tells us we are clear for takeoff and this time, truly this time, we are leaving our wintery wonderland. The flight attendant starts in on the drinks available, snacks this, peanuts that, headphones this other and I am thinking, I better get the whole can instead of that dumb sippy cup size thing they usually give out. To top it all of get this; they tell us the snacks they are serving are $2. They have chocolate, and other snacks, but please remember they don’t take cash, it's credit only. This is what I get for flying Delta, five hours taxiing around Salt Lake international and Delta can’t even cough up the M&M’s unless we pay.

Unbelievable.

I won’t even tell you about the rental car….

Whatcha going do when they come for you?

Last week was another lovely work trip. SUPPOSEDLY one state this time.

I flew into the lovely and quaint town of Phoenix AZ with the intent of driving about two hours down to Tucson, closing that branch, coming back to Phoenix, close that branch, and then up to the thriving metropolis of Flagstaff. Well, as per usual the rental car is a mess, so I have to upgrade. Let me give you this small hint. Once you find a decent place to rent cars, DO NOT SWITCH. The new company will totally hose you and then expect you to be stupid enough to stand there and take it. By the way, they are not really happy when you walk away mid rental and tell them you are going next door. Judging by the nasty language of the 20-something rental agent (who will probably die in his mothers basement) they down right hate it.

Fast forward two and a half hours of driving (by the way, if you have to pee in Phoenix and think you are just going to "hold it" until Tucson, dont.

I arrived at our illustrious Tucson location only to find I had to hunt down someone with keys, because the person we thought had keys did not. Once inside I once again saw first hand the foul nature of humanity. When you are let go from a job you would think you would try to retain some bit of dignity. Nope, not these people, it was dump trash, throw files, leave every possible thing on the floor. This place was so messy my 15 year old's room looked clean in comparison.

Its getting late, I realize this because my tummy is yelling "Food now, or we put this bad boy in reverse Jack!" So, i trot down to the local fast food establishment quickly choke down enough calories for the average 3A Marching Band (GO JAGS!) and proceed back to the branch.

By this time, it's dark. I realize at this point, the other 4 suites in this small strip mall style building are empty as well, and the landlord in a money saving effort has decided to turn off ALL the lights. No parking lights, standing lights, building lights, NOTHING! I am starting to get a bit freaked out.

I finally get things all boxed up, ready to load. I am starting to load everything in my Chevy Malibu (imagine what I started with if the Malibu was my upgrade!) If you are wondering, you can fit 19 boxes of files, 6 boxes of supplies, three 19" monitors, two laptops, one desktop, two boxes of paper, a small duffel bag, a 24 port switch, a wireless router, a small firewall, one box of cat5 cable, and a 135 lb printer all in the car, and still fit a dashingly good looking facility manager. Props to Chevy!

Meanwhile, amidst the fun of playing tetris with all my boxes the following took place. I take one box out, load it, go back and get another. Take a box out, load it, go back and get another. Take a box out,load ... "STOP! PUT THE BOX DOWN AND STEP AWAY FROM THE CAR!!!" Apparently when you have your car backed up on to the sidewalk, and you are in the very dark part of the Tucson business district, it may in some way give the impression to Tucson's finest you may be stealing.

Well by this time, its almost 11 O'clock at night, I am exhausted, and as always, I think I am pretty funny. The pride and joy of Tucson didn't see it that way. After some extremely poor choices for answers on my part, and going through almost every paper I had, including multiple things from my wallet, and a 15 minute spot where I was sitting cross legged on the ground, Andy Griffith decided to let me go. He apparently thought he had saved the city from the terrors of, well, me.

So as I recall this story, was I arrested, no. At no point was I encased in handcuffs. I was however, detained. I wanted to run, I wanted to be the bad boy, but lets face it, After 40 you really don't run, you saunter. Even the Tucson police can usually catch the criminally sauntering.