How does an airplane get a dead battery? It’s a question I had to think about. So, I’m sitting here at the Albuquerque Sunport and contemplating the morning’s events. Sleep deprived because I didn’t sleep until 2:30am and needed to wake up at 4:45am to get ready and get to the Sunport by 5:25am to board my plane at 6:25am… or so I thought. Punch all my info into the friendly kiosk to get my boarding pass, pay my $15.00 for my golf bag, and away I go.
At 5:30am, you think security would be a breeze, not so much. I guess everyone is going to Miami or Atlanta because there were literally hundreds of people waiting in line to take their shoes, belts, keys, wallets, and laptops out to ensure we had no terrorist paraphernalia. I used to wear shoes, but now I wear flip flops (even in winter), and now they make me take off my flip flops in case I have a lighter stuck between my big toe and 2nd metatarsal.
So barefoot, I scamper off to collect my backpack and garment bag. Even though I arrived early for my flight, I felt like I was late… because I almost was. How that happened is still beyond my comprehension. I arrived to the gate to find all the same people I encountered in the security line at my gate standing around like they were waiting for a bus. Something was amiss. No one was boarding the plane. So now I was standing around looking like the rest of the idiots.
I try to inquire what was going on, and the “lovely” gate people at Delta had absolutely no clue. You work for the airline, the plane is supposed to be boarding, and you have no clue what is going on. What does it take to work for Delta? A pulse and a lobotomy? Now I notice some disgruntled would-be passengers, and I ask them. They repeat this to me three times… a dead battery…a f@#kin’ dead battery? Did they say a dead battery? I thought for a second I was listening to Dustin Hoffman in “Rainman”, but no… Dustin couldn’t be found.
I started thinking to myself, how does an airplane get a dead battery? Don’t they have backups? Don’t they have jumper cables? Can’t they get a Boeing 767 to saunter over and give them a jump? Or maybe the most brilliant of them all… don’t they have extra batteries in the hanger for times like these?
So instead of listening to the clueless crew, I decide to take matters into my own hands and turn my ass around to see if I can get on the next flight while “the cattle” keep bitching. I run down stairs and cut everyone in line, because at this point I feel I have earned the right to be an asshole for a minute. It definitely felt right. I explain to Robert (The Counter Guy) about the situation, and he puts me on a flight with American… my airline adversary… or so I thought.
Robert tells me to run down to American (which I do… literally) and the American counter guy tells me that Delta did book the flight. So I have to “run” back to Delta… again cutting everyone in line and telling Robert my situation. I’m sent back down, and Soloman from American tells me it’s still not booked. It’s approaching the witching hour, and I am on the cusp of not making the flight. A new counter guy Mike takes matters into his own hands (something I have never seen before). It was awesome. Mike made a call, started typing, and got me on a better flight to my Miami destination.
Although I have been a huge critic of American Airlines because they allow people who have fat dripping over into my lap sit next to me. Today Mike did me solid… and I appreciate that. I still believe American needs to stop hiring fat flight attendants. They should also give people over 350 sloppy pounds their own seats, but today I am content. Well, once I get on the plane and land in Miami.