Then there was the Denver trip where I wanted to cross white water rafting off my 30 before 30 list. Stanley, Hongya, and I were early and hungry, so we shot past the airport to a nearby Chipotle, where we took our sweet time enjoying our sub-$7 burrito bowls. Before we knew it, someone noticed that we had gone from early to truly down to the wire, and we raced back to IAH.
I'll never forget standing helplessly in the security line as the intercom was announcing the last call for our flight. I was texting Albert that he might be going solo. I still laugh thinking about Hongya sprinting to the gate first to presumably attempt to stick his foot in the airplane door to keep the cabin from closing. Stanley and I arrived at the gate a minute later, only to see the look of defeat on Hongya's face as we witnessed the jetway pull away from the plane in slow motion. The three of us waved our arms frantically at the window like something out of a sitcom, hoping that the pilot would maybe take pity on us.
And it worked. The jetway unexpectedly reversed, and the gate agent opened the gate door, chastised us, and we were ushered onto the flight with a ton of shame but with even more glee. I think of that gate agent often -- I wish her all the best things in life. But I'll take 0.33 of the blame on that one, even though Chipotle really has some elite guacamole.
Then there was the trip that created a future Guinness record, with Maxwell wallowing in his trauma eventually becoming the youngest person in recorded history to ever purchase flight insurance. It was an incredible vacation, especially looking back on it fondly now as we were treated like kings at Lady Luck Casino in Blackhawk. Free food, free drinks, free hotel room, free money with us hitting the bonus with all the numbers at the craps table a couple times that weekend.
But if you know anything about me, you also know that the final craps run is the greatest, as I need my backpack on and the adrenaline of potentially missing a flight to maximize my rolls. Maxwell was getting a little worried, but I was in double digit territory in terms of visits to Blackhawk and knew we were right on schedule. We cashed out, hit the road, and began the windy two-lane drive through the mountains back to the airport.
Suddenly we come up on a cement truck backing up onto the road, stopping traffic in both directions. I did not know that a vehicle could inch so slowly and still be considered moving, but Maxwell will forever be scarred by the incessant beeping noise as we watched the minutes dwindle off the clock.
I crazy-taxied our way to the airport and returned the rental car. This was back in the day before Spirit could afford its own app apparently, so the rest of the guys went to get in line at security while I went to the Spirit ticket counter to get our paper tickets printed. And as luck would have it, they were unable to print our paper tickets at the desk within a half hour or something of boarding. Maxwell, Stanley, and Xiao had screenshot their tickets in the backseat while I was speeding through traffic with Justin navigating.
Screenshots weren't supposed to work either, but somehow they were accepted through security, and Xiao embarked on an exasperated run through an imaginary pedestrian bridge instead of taking the train to the gate like a normal person, and he held up the plane until Maxwell and Stanley joined him. We still reminisce about that epic ped bridge story to this day. Meanwhile, Justin and I were stuck thinking about how to get home to our exceptionally loving and understanding wives. I'll accept responsibility for a fraction of this incident.
So between these three mishaps, two cancelled flights, countless delays, and lost luggage in Hong Kong, I thought the worst had to be behind me. I thought.
For the sake of simplicity, all times will be Pacific Time. Ophelia dropped me off at IAH at 2:30am for my 3:30am United flight to Los Angeles. Immediately after checking in my luggage, there was an announcement of a global IT outage that has caused all flights to be grounded. Of course. Why not an unprecedented worldwide issue? I start texting the group, and a bit later, Peter and Titus corroborated the chaos at the Austin airport.
Ophelia and I are different in a lot of ways, and one of the most glaring is the type of friend we are. My better half is the more detailed type, as she will know everything about her friends, from their grandparents' nicknames to their kids' favorite dinosaurs. I'm the opposite. I don't even know what any of my friends really do for work. Recently a couple people have asked me what Justin does, and I gotta say, I have no idea. I only spend 5+ hours with him a week in the same golf cart or on the same basketball court -- how would that even come up?
I just know how to read people, and I can tell what my friends are thinking and feeling. Their vibe, if you will. And I could tell that Titus was already about to mentally throw in the towel on the entire endeavor, so I told Peter to keep his spirits up. It was an emotional rollercoaster of a day, but this was the brief moment where I thought I would be the only one of the trio on our flight to Tokyo.
The situation started to look quite bleak. Every screen in the airport was just the Windows blue screen of death, and there was only the occasional repeated announcement with a promise of an update at the top of the next hour.
When the United gate agent miraculously started the boarding process at 5:45am, there was a joyous round of applause. Peter and Titus were boarding in Austin simultaneously, and both planes got in the air with an ETA to LAX of about 10am. At this point, our connecting Delta flight was still on time, so I was scouring the interwebs looking for a backup plan to get to Tokyo.
Then the flight gets delayed a half hour. A sliver of hope arises, at least for Titus, who was able to check his luggage in Austin all the way to Tokyo. Peter and I would have to pick up our checked bags and recheck them. My checked bag is basically 50% my clothes and 50% moisturizer cream to smuggle into Asia for Phil. At this point, I assume Peter and I will be finding an alternative route to Japan.
The flight delay doubles from 10:30am to 11am, and I assume I'll be soloing the rest of the way to Japan. The Austin flight lands at 9:35am, and Peter runs to get his bag while Titus scurries to the gate. I'm getting the play-by-play from them while resigned to the fact that I'll purchase a 12pm ANA flight instead.
My plane lands at 9:50am. Multiple scenarios are playing in my head:
1. Best case, the flight gets delayed another hour, I pick up my checked bag and recheck it, get to the gate in a timely manner
2. I ditch my checked bag and just focus on getting to the gate, purchase clothes and necessities in Japan
3. I lose all hope in making the Delta flight and rebook a later flight
I settled on option 2, just leaving my poor luggage behind with my clothes and a lifetime supply of moisturizer cream for Phil, but we don't move on the tarmac for an eternity. My plane is motionless on the tarmac while Peter got his luggage, checked it in, got through security, and joined Titus at the gate.
Between landing at 9:50am and exiting the plane at 10:50am, it felt like the longest hour of my life. I've Doctor Strange'd every scenario at this point, and just when I'm mentally saying goodbye to my luggage and Phil's moisturizer, hope is renewed. The flight is delayed until 12:10pm. Hallelujah.
All options are improbably back on the table. I'm finally off the plane at 10:50am. I pick up my luggage at 11:02am. If I want to try to check in the luggage last minute, I'd have to do that at terminal 3, but I'm at terminal 7, so scrap that thought. I try to go through security at terminal 7, but they turn me and my giant luggage away. I return back to baggage claim, take the clutch extra duffel bag out of my luggage, transfer everything in there, and leave my Samsonite stranded there.
I get into the terminal 7 security line, go through x-ray machine, but, you guessed it, my duffel gets flagged. I get an update from Peter and Titus that the plane has arrived and my "TIMER HAS STARTED."
I have to wait behind 6 other bags for my turn, and they make me trash Phil's moisturizer. I text an apology to Phil, but in my mind, I have done it. Mission impossible accomplished. I've made it through security at 11:22am with time to spare, now I just need to find gate 32A in terminal 3.
None of the signs show anything close to my gate number or even my terminal number. I wander for a couple precious minutes thinking that I must have just missed something before asking someone how to get to terminal 3.
"You have to exit to get to terminal 3 and go through security"
"No, I just went through security"
"You'll have to do it again"
"I thought it was all connected, how do I get to terminal 3 then?"
"You want the easiest way or the fastest way?"
"I need the fastest way or I'm going to miss my flight"
"You'll need to go down this escalator, out the door, turn left, and run past the other terminals until you get to 3"
"How far is it?"
"Pretty far"
I'm not someone who gets stressed. Like, rooting for my sports teams is probably the only source of stress in my life. But it was 11:27am, the flight was scheduled for 12:10pm, and I could not accept dumping Phil's moisturizer for nothing. So let me tell y'all I turned my Crocs to sports mode, picked up that duffel bag like a running back with a football and RAN. That guy's "pretty far" ended up being close to a personal 5K race around the perimeter of the airport, yelling at multiple people "TERMINAL 3?" en route to confirm that I was headed in the right direction.
I didn't stop churning until I reached the terminal 3 security line at my top 5 sweatiest in life. Naturally, there's someone in front of me possibly traveling for the first time and taking off one item of clothng at a time to place in her bin. I get through security a second time and resume The Amazing Race. 32A is not that close to security because why would it be? Finally I see a sign for 32, turn the last corner, and, panting, join Peter and Titus at the gate at 11:52am for our connecting flight.
Just like we had planned.
Ped bridged it
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