Our flight to China departs at 12:30 on February 18. That was this morning. That is not tonight.
I woke up at 8:30, thinking, “you know, that’s weird that we leave tonight, and are scheduled to arrive in Shanghai on the next day at 2pm… as they are a day ahead of us and it takes about a day to get there…”
And it all came together.
I run to my cell phone, which was not fully plugged into the wall overnight and is now dead. I push the plug in, and am trying to force it to turn on… every second feeling like 1000 days. I’m searching online for a “time to check in” reminder, and don’t have one. I try to pull up my flight itinerary, but the electronic itinerary for China is some crazy contractual agreement, so I hate to keep clicking “accept, accept, accept”, as I’ve probably broken all terms and agreements laid forth… as we didn’t show up. At least, I’m pretty sure we missed it. But I still don’t know.
Phone is turning on, thank goodness. Media scanner is running, though… for what seems like a mockingly inordinate amount of time. The land line! The land line is plugged in to the fax. I take the fax line out, plug in the red portable phone from 1990 that I never thought we’d actually use, and of course, the battery is dead. Note to get an even older phone, with the curly cord that mom used to walk around the kitchen with that could wrap around the island 3 or 4 times.
Back to current crisis. I take the tornado approach to looking for the printed itinerary, and finally find it on the coffee table underneith an invitation to the Hope Fashion Show. Crap. Gotta get those tickets soon. And what about the RSVP to Megan’s wedding? Is that still in my car or did I put that in the mail?
0:30 on Feb 18th. Yep. Totally missed the flight.
I call Korean Air’s number listed on the phone. “Press 1 for…” I press 1. It’s talking to me in Korean. Hang up. Call back, “Press 1 for Korean, Press 2 for Eng…” I press 2. I press 0, I press 5, I press 4…
“Our offices are currently closed. Our hours of operation are from 9:30am to 5:30pm, Pacific Standard Time. Please call back during our normal hours of operation.”
I’m googling Hartsfield, trying to find Korean Air’s number there, or somewhere in Atlanta. The only number I can find is for cargo. I call cargo. They put me on hold. I’ve been to the cago department for Delta at Hartsfield before, and I’m thinking, “It’s going to be 15 minutes before they even realize they’ve got me on hold…” The tears start streaming down my face, mostly in sheer, unadulterated overwhelming astonishment of my own brain. What part am I missing that would tell me that 12:30 on the 18th is not 12:30, but 0:30? Is my aptitude sliding down the rainbow of business owner bliss into a dark well of “small details are unimportant to me” mentality?
“Cargo.”
“Hey, I’m trying to get in touch with Korean Air’s ticketing office. I missed my flight.”
“So, you’re calling for passenger services?”
“Yes.”
“This is cargo. We deal with putting things like boxes on planes.”
“I’m an importer, I know what you do. I’m calling for a number. Can you connect me to a number for passenger services for Korean Air.”
“Yeah, OK it’s gonna be 1-888-345…”
“That’s the number I called; but they are closed untill 12:30. They’re on Pacific Time.”
“Well, ma’am, I don’t know what to do. That’s the number we have.”
I google Hartsfield’s main customer service line.
“Hartsfield.”
“Hi, yes I need to speak with a Korean Air agent.”
“Ma’am are you in a safe place right now?”
“No I’m not a safe place. I’m trapped inside a brain that is trying to sabotage me. It’s manipulating my chances for success. It has some sort of sick, twisted subconscious that is in cahoots with apparently all the other brains of the people that I told I was leaving at 12:30 today as well. And also, there is a serial rapist in the Lenox area that they reported on like 3 weeks ago and have never given a “we caught him” update. No I am not safe!”
“Huh?”
“I am delirious right now. Can you please transfer?”
“Well Korean Air is only available when there is a flight at the gate. I’ll transfer you to Delta, they are affiliated with Korean Air.”
“Delta.”
“Hi, I’m trying to get intouch with Korean Air. Do you have a local number I can call? The only line I have is closed untill 12:30 today.”
“Here’s the local number.”
“Can you repeat that, I cannot see the paper I’m writing on I’m crying too hard. And my eyes are swollen shut a little bit.”
“Korean Air this is Laura.”
“Laura, how are you?”
“Good, how are you.”
“I’m freaking out. I’m a moron. I had my flight at 12:30 today, which really was 12:30 this morning, so I missed it. Can I get another flight?”
“OK, sure. I’ve put you on the 11:55am flight today. Our ticket desk closes at 10:55 for that flight. Can you be here in an hour?”
“I need to call my sister and see.”
Ring, Ring!
Shannon’s phone rings in her locker at the Concourse Athletic Club.
Ring, Ring!
Text message followed by text message followed by text message beeps in Shannon’s locker.
Meanwhile, Rocky theme song plays as Shannon climbs a mechnical mountain on the eliptical machine.
“Korean Air this is Laura.”
“Laura, I can’t get a hold of Shannon. Is there a later flight?”
“Not until the 20th at 12:30.”
“And by that you mean in the morning.”
“Yes, you’ll need to be here on the 19th.”
“OK, book it please. I guess we’ll need to change our depature date, too.”
“Well, it’s $200 per person, per change, plus any change in ticket price and tax.”
“Ok, that’s really horrifyingly expensive but what can I do. Can we get back on the 28th instead of the 26th, since we’re leaving late?”
“No, only available dates are the 26th and the 3rd.”
Ring! Ring!
Shannon is beeping in.
Ignore button.
Ring! Ring!
Text: On the phone with Korean Air.
Shannon: I am literally running out of the Concourse, didn’t bring anything, leaving it there, we have 15 minutes to be at the airport?
No, flight now 20th at 0:30.
Oh. When do we arrive? You know my “arrive before date” on my Visa expires February 21st.
Mild heart attack, and I knock over my chair as I run to the counter, look for Shannon’s Visa, and see that the “enter before date” is the 23rd. Thank goodness.
Text: Will you pick me up something to eat and get over here, we need to figure out how we’re going to make 8 days into 5.
Shannon: Pulling out of Dunkin Donuts with a 100 calorie sandwich for ya, and spilled an entire smoothie all over the passenger seat of my car. It looks like vomit.
Ring! Ring!
Ignore button.
Ring! Ring!
“Hi, Morgan.”
“Hey I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Well, I missed my flight to China last night and I’ve been in crisis mode.”
“Ok, thats cool. Hey, I wanted to know where that Secret Bar is that you mentioned, and if I can get the number.”
“Morgan, I’m in a really bad mood right now, but here’s the number…”
“Actually, can you just text that to me? I’m not able to write it down and that would be so much easier. Also… I know you want me to meet your friend Boyd, but can you just schedule like a group hang out, I don’t want to go on a man date.”
