My way out to Milan was flawless. I took the train out to JFK after work, where I had a lovely time flying Emirates, which surely must be the best airline operating today. Decent food, good movie and TV options, solid bar and snacks, and a good looking staff to boot. At the airport, I was immediately picked up by my driver for a snooze filled ride to Alba.
The way back wasn’t as easy. The drive back to Milan was pleasant enough. The Milan airport was very nice with a plethora of dining options. The whole Emirates bit was spot on, and I very much enjoyed my marathon of Billions. It’s the US airports that are causing me grief.
I don’t know if it was because I was flying Emirates, or simply because I had used the mobile check-in for the past several flights, but the app wouldn’t let me fly through security this time. Note to self, sign up for this global TSA thing. Wait in line for customs at JFK. Grab suitcase filled with cheese and wine. Check in. Re-check suitcase. Wait in line for security again. All of this is par of the course when traveling, but just makes the day that much longer, and really, I could have just hopped on the Chinatown Express and been in DC by this point.
But I’m not. We finally board, click in, and are about to take off when the pilot comes on to welcome us. We back up a bit. Stop, wait, and get a new announcement.
“Apparently we just backed into a catering truck. We’re up in the cockpit, so obviously we can’t see anything back there.”
“We’re going to need to de-plane so the crew can assess the damage. Please wait for updates.”
This is 10:30 pm.
At 11:15 we get an update that the next update will come in 15 minutes. But in the meantime, here’s $16 coupon for food from Jet Blue. Thanks…
Finally, just after midnight we got the final update that the plane was, in fact, cancelled. Instead of laying out our options, it basically turned into huddle of panic and chaos. Each member of staff had a different recommendation of what to do and where to go, with most of them finishing with, “call the jet blue hotline,” while everyone with their own very unique story screams it over everyone else trying to get the next flight. Of which there wasn’t one.
I was finally rebooked on the next flight in the am (8) with a loose promise for $150 repayment if I book a hotel. I call 5 hotels nearby, 4 of which are full, one of which is $200 + $50 shuttle and it’s in Jamaica. It’s 2 am and I live in New York. Time to go home.
I canceled the flight, slept in, repacked, and hopped on a bus where I am currently residing. Sometimes life feels like you’re jamming a square into a circle. Going to DC shouldn’t be this hard…