“Famous last words,” I told Senior Account Executive Jessica Hoffman as we eased into a rooftop bistro along the riverwalk in sunny Fort Lauderdale, Florida. “We’ll have a nice lunch, stroll back along the river to the hotel, gather our luggage, and after two easy, short flights, we’ll be back home by 10:30 p.m.” It was Friday, March 6, and we were winding down the third day of a conference for Mirabel Technologies, Inc., whose program called The Magazine Manager facilitates the customer relationship management system we use at Tucker Publishing Group, Inc. Arriving at the fairly busy Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport for our return flight, unsuspecting passengers (including us) strolled through the terminal oblivious to what was about to occur: A hail storm with winds up to 41 mph brought a screeching halt to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport — the world’s busiest airport and our connection in Georgia.
An early indication of trouble lying in wait occurred while going through security. Ahead of me, Jessica breezed through TSA. Still in line, I watched as my carry-on, brightly covered with stickers from several universities (Evansville, Louisville, and Butler), took a hard right onto the “alternate” conveyor belt. “I must be special,” I thought; that quickly was dispelled when a TSA agent asked, “Is this your bag? Can you step over here?” TSA then performed three scans of my carry-on and two screenings of my toiletry bag. Apparently, some of my luggage contents were flagged for being organic, but the only thing organic was my workout clothes, which obviously didn’t offer a “rain fresh” scent.
Reunited, Jessica and I arrived at our gate and found our flight delayed. It happens. We eventually boarded and began a multi-hour adventure. The heck with a “trust fall” — Jessica and I had to pull together. We were on the plane, sitting on the Fort Lauderdale tarmac, for more than three hours. We then deplaned and eventually reboarded, taking off for Atlanta to the passengers’ cheers.
After safely landing, our plane headed toward our gate — and stopped, because no gates were available. For three-and-a-half hours, our captain fought a no-win battle with optimistic false calls delivered to his passengers. Finally, we received a gate, parked, and disembarked, with passengers surprisingly civil.
Our connecting flight to Evansville already had been canceled before we’d even left Florida. Since our carry-on bags were gate-checked straight through to Evansville, we decided there was no sense in going to our hotel lacking luggage and awaiting a huge mess at the airport the next day.
With considerable effort, Jessica and I attempted to rent a car to drive to Evansville. There were none — not a single car left at any of the rental agencies at Hartsfield-Jackson. Now wanting to get to Chattanooga, Tennessee, to rent a car, we were told to “get on the airport shuttle,” which includes out-of-state service to cities such as Chattanooga. We waited and waited. When the shuttle appeared, we were told, “Sold out already.” So, one very expensive cab ride later, we were in front of the Chattanooga Metropolitan Airport. After waiting another oh-so-magical three hours in the terminal, the rental car counter opened, and a few hundred dollars later, we were driving west on Interstate 24 eyeballing Lookout Mountain. Nearly five hours and 300 miles stood between us and home. New time of arrival: 12:30 p.m. Saturday.
It was hard to laugh in the moment. Now, I find my travails “somewhat” humorous and a bit surreal. My favorite line all night was spoken while we sat waiting for the shuttle bus we never rode. Without much intonation, Jessica said, “This is just like the movie ‘Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.’” But we found moments of gratitude: Initially, our taxi to Chattanooga was freezing, so I asked the driver to turn the heat on. Jessica says that when it started to warm up, “I was grateful. It was the first bit of comfort I’d felt in hours.”
As always, I look forward to hearing from most of you.
Todd A. Tucker, President
