I recently had the pleasure of flying from Ontario to Albany, New York. That’s a trip that really tests your faith—in airlines, rental car companies, and your ability to survive on long flights without food.
It all started bright and early, because apparently,
airlines think the best way to prepare you for travel is by depriving you of
sleep. I wake up at a time no human should ever wake up and drag myself to the
airport. I catch the flight and it lands
in Las Vegas.
The plan was simple: a quick connection through Las Vegas
then New York, right? But Vegas had other plans for me. Bam—engine failure! 2 hour delay! And here’s the kicker: I could literally watch the repair guys working
on the plane from inside the airport. It’s like a live-action version of “How
to Fix Stuff...Poorly.”
After two hours, they announced again that it will be
another two hours. Guess what? It ended
up becoming a seven hour delay. Seven! They never fixed the plane. Instead, they hijacked another plane headed to San Antonio. Oh gawd. I’m
sitting there thinking, “Is this plane ever going to take off, or should I
start paying rent here?”
By hour five, I started questioning my life choices. By hour
six, I was pricing out jobs as a baggage handler because at least they
don’t get stuck like this.
Meanwhile, because it’s Vegas, there are slot machines
everywhere. I watched people lose money while I lost my will to live. I’m
sitting there with my sad little bag of M&Ms, thinking, “At least I didn’t
just lose fifty bucks on the penny slots.” By hour six, the slot machines
started looking tempting. I thought, “Maybe gambling is less risky than
boarding this plane.”
Finally, after the longest layover known to humanity, I
arrive in Albany. Past midnight. Starving. My stomach’s growling so loud, I
think it scared the baggage handlers. I head to the rental car center, only to
find out it’s CLOSED. Because, of course, why would they stay open for late
flights? That would make too much sense.
At this point, I’m Googling “Can hunger cause
hallucinations?” because all the restaurants in the area are closed. My dinner
options were basically nonexistent. I was so desperate I considered eating my
carry-on bag.
So, I finally give up on the rental car and call an Uber. My
driver pulls up, and he’s the happiest guy I’ve ever seen—an Indian guy
finishing his shift for the night. This dude is so cheerful, it’s like he’s
powered by good vibes and chai tea.
He goes, “How’s your night going?” And I just look at him
like, “Do you REALLY want me to answer that?” But he keeps smiling like he’s
hosting a motivational TED Talk.
As we drive, he starts chatting. “You must be hungry!” he says.
Oh, you think? My stomach’s been growling so loud, it’s practically asking him for snacks. Then he goes, “Albany has great food!”
Dude, everything’s
closed. The only thing great about Albany right now is the fact that I’m
still conscious.
He’s still cheerful, though. “At least it’s not raining!” he
says. And I’m thinking, “Buddy, I’d gladly take rain if you could pull a hot
dog stand out of your trunk right now.”
Then he tries to make me laugh. “Life is like Uber,” he
says. “Sometimes you’re the passenger, sometimes you’re the driver!” I swear I
almost tipped him just for trying. But in my head, I’m thinking, “Right now,
I’m both—the passenger in your car and the driver of my own misery.”
By the time we pull up to the hotel, he’s still smiling and goes, “Enjoy your stay!”
I get to my hotel, and it’s undergoing renovations. There’s
construction tape everywhere—I think I stepped over a pile of drywall just to
get to the check-in desk. And the toilet in my room? It wouldn’t flush
correctly. By this point, I’m convinced the universe is testing me.
I manage three hours of sleep, stumble back to the rental
car center at sunrise, and finally get my car. The old lady behind the counter is
like, “Long night?” I said, “Let me put it this way—if you handed me an
espresso and a pillow, I might cry tears of joy.”
Shortly after that, I head straight to work. For an eight-hour
class. About vacuum systems. I spent eight hours learning about expensive
vacuum pumps while running on fumes. I was so tired, I think I applauded the
instructor for teaching me the difference between “air pressure” and
“my will to live.”
Finally, I get back to my hotel room, grab a pizza, and call
it a night. That pizza was the highlight of my entire trip—it was like a medal
for surviving the Hunger Games of air travel.
