I know, I know. I've taken several blogging breaks lately. Please forgive me as I explain to you the craziness of Monday morning. Get comfy...it's a long story....but worth it, I promise!
Amar has been in Chicago these last two weeks for work, so I joined him up there for the weekend. I'll share stories/pictures from that later this week, but I had to tell my O'Hare story before its vivid memory faded from my mind.
My flight from O'Hare to Austin was slated to leave at 8:20 AM. So our plan was to leave the apartment by 6:30 AM, put me on the train to the airport, and have me there with plenty of time to get some coffee and relax before winging my way back home.
Think again.
We actually left the apartment around 6:50 AM, hailed a cab, and headed for the train station. I think I got on the train around 7:00 AM or so, leaving
just enough time for the ~40 minute ride. Little did I know that the train I got on (along with 50+ other people heading to O'Hare) wasn't going to take us all the way there.
No.
It stopped 4 stops early and booted everyone off before it turned around and headed back down town. So there we all were, standing on the platform with our luggage at 7:20, mere miles away from our final destination.
I tried to convince myself not to panic at that point. "You have
plenty of time..." I said to myself. I even decided to put my cell phone (and clock) away for the rest of the trip so I didn't panic.
10 minutes passed and finally the next train came along. It was 7:30 AM, if you're keeping track, and I was supposed to board my plane in 20 minutes. So I again tried to calm myself and keep myself from making 10 contingency plans in the back of my head.
My prayer, at that point, went something like, "God, if You want me to make the flight, I'll make the flight. If not, then no big deal."
The train crept along as if the tracks were made of molasses.
Literally.
Probably going about 10 miles an hour at that point.
Heck, even the RUSH HOUR traffic I could see out the window was passing us.
"Don't panic," I reminded myself. "Stay calm. It'll work out. No need to stress about it."
Finally, I gave in and checked my cell phone for the time.
7:53 AM!!Alarm bells went off inside my head, and I decided to text a co-worker to spread the word that I may not make my flight and to pass that info along to my boss. I clicked "send" on the text message
just as we entered the tunnel into the airport. "Message sending failed," my phone told me.
Great.
We came to a stop and it was the moment of truth. Either I was going to go ALL OUT and haul myself to the terminal, trying everything I could to make the flight - OR - I was going to give up and admit defeat.
Well, I'm no quitter. So I decided that I've gotta go for it. Game face on.
So I slung my backpack over my shoulder, extended the handle on my rolling carry-on and headed for the nearest steps....along with about 200 other people with luggage. I immediately observed that the escalator was packed, so I picked up my bag and sprinted up the stairs. Additionally, the moving sidewalk people-mover-thingy was jammed, so I ran past it as well. I hauled myself up the last set of stairs and into the airport.
Blast! The security line!!!
Time check: 8:03 AM
I got in line, sent my text message, and waited it out. As usual, all the lines were packed. After all, it was Monday morning at O'Hare. What did I expect?
I got up to the point where they check your ID and boarding pass and I noticed that the "Airport Staff" security line was virtually empty. Now, I normally wouldn't do this, but I looked at the security lady and asked if there was any way I could hop in that line. She pretended I wasn't speaking to her....so I tried again, indicating that my flight started boarding
15 minutes ago...She looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then mumbled to me "go under the rope..."
So I did. Gladly.
I got in line and started throwing my stuff on that conveyor belt. Removing my shoes. Bumping into people...and folks started to notice that I needed help. So the lady behind me asked what I needed. "I NEED A PLASTIC BIN" I exclaimed, as I realized that I hadn't fully followed airport security measures. They tossed a bin to me and I threw my shoes and liquids in.
Boom.
I was through security. I threw my shoes on, forgot to zip up by backpack, grabbed the carry-on and tried to find out what gate I needed to be at.
K1! MUST FIND GATE K1!!! As the words "Final Boarding" flashed next to my flight number on the big board.
So I started running through the airport, bag flailing around behind me, scarves falling out, yelling "Excuse me!"
I found K1 and sprinted to the gate.
The poor agent said, "Are you Kimberly?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, handing her my boarding pass.
"You're in an exit row."
"Yes, ma'am," I wheezed, panting between words.
"Have a nice flight." And she closed the doors behind me as I walked down the jet way.
5 seconds to spare.
