The good, the bad, and the ugly of air travel delays
That is what I experienced this past weekend as I went up to Canada to see my wife, though not necessarily in that order.
Let's start off with the good: As any of you living on the north west cost should be aware, Veteran's Day was a rather blustery day. The numbers I heard were steady winds of 32 mph in Portland, 45 mph in Seattle, and gusts as high as 98 mph in Bellingham, WA. Needless to say, this resulted in my flight from Kelowna to Seattle being delayed to the point that I would have missed my flight from Seattle to Portland. Realizing this, the ticket agent in Kelowna (since this was an evening flight) asked me if I wanted to stay an extra day, to which I replied, 'Of course!'
Now for the bad: The next day I unfortunately (well, fortunately for my being able to work and thus make money but unfortunately from a personal desire standpoint) I made my flight to Seattle and knowing I had little time rushed to reach the gate for my Portland flight, only to find it had been delayed from 5:30 to 8:00. Having had all sorts of fun experiences with delayed flights from Horizon, I assumed this flight would eventually be canceled, and put myself on the waitlist for earlier flights. Apparently, there had been a canceled flight at 3 that day in addition to my own delayed flight, so the waitlist was 81 people long. These tiny planes don't even hold that many people! Long story short, the delay was eventually reduced to 7:30 and I made it into Portland late, but within acceptable tolerance.
And finally, the just plain UGLY: And that ugly is Vancouver, BC immigration. When walking through customs I mentioned that I was going to visit my wife, which sends up immediate red flags with customs officials, but they have all that info on file so I'm sort of stuck with having to mention it. This triggered a trip to immigration (even though I'm not immigrating), which is annoying, but I had about 1 hour 45 minutes between flights so I wasn't too worried. This sort of thing has happened many times before. (As an aside, you'd think they'd realize that I'm not staying by now after all the times they've pulled me aside and made me do the paperwork and question dance for this before - hell, I even had my return ticket and my most recent paycheck from my job in Salem in hand for just such an occasion, but does that speed things up? Noooooo.) I get into the line, past an absolutely humongous line for people who were actually immigrating, and see it's only about 10 people long. Great, this shouldn't take long. The people ahead of me look frustrated, and one's got a screaming baby, but dealing with immigration can do that and almost none of them speak any English, so I can't tell what's happening. After about 15 minutes standing there with nothing happening, I start getting suspicious. The lady in front of me from Iran throws up her hands, gestures to her bag and her desire to sit down and that she wants me to save her place. The lady in front of her (the one with the baby) says she's been here since 1 (it's now 2:45) and the line hasn't moved at all. Not even one person called up. There some man of Asian dissent who, judging from the snippets I picked up, was being threatened with arrest because they couldn't get ahold of some person in Calgary was the only person at the counter. Three immigration people were dealing with him. Five officials were standing around in plain sight of everyone making small talk, and two more were in the back moving papers around in what might have been work, but looked more like busy work.
After 30 minutes (3:00) in that line with no movement I asked other to save my place and went to talk to everyone else in the area (that humongous line had emptied, refilled, and emptied again during this time). They all said I was in the right line and to be patient. "But I've been here for 45 minutes," I said. "I have a flight out at 4," I said. "Can we at least get one person to help people and get things moving?" "Oh, they're all busy with other case workers," was the reply. "You do know we can see them, right?" I thought angrily to myself, "They're right there! Unless Britney Spears was here earlier I doubt they're discussing anything to do with cases!" I actually said, "But what about my flight?" "Oh, don't worry, there's lots of flights to Kelowna," they replied. "Yes, but who will pay for it?" I queried. "Not our problem," they said.
At around 3:15 the immigration people standing around finally seemed to notice the angry glares of the immigrants being forced to stand ankle-deep in unmoving bureaucracy without food, water, or indeed a bathroom anywhere nearby. They decided to move the conversation into a nearby conference room. I laid down on my backpack to take a nap. Rage kept me awake. Not one person had been even called up the entire time.
About 3:35 the door to the staff room opens up and immigration officials in bullet proof vests (this is their standard wear and not a change in attire) issued forth. "Hurrah!" I thought foolishly, "They have reached a decision and are back on the job. I may catch my flight yet... there's still only 10 people ahead of me."
Around 3:50 the first glorious cry of "Next!" issues from the most industrious immigration official's mouth. Which is rather akin to saying the tallest midget lorded it over the other midgets, but I digress. It wouldn't be long now... within 5 minutes a second official decided to start working, then a third!
About 3:58 I get my turn. "Yes, my wife is Canadian. No, I'm not staying. Yes, I have a return ticket. Why yes, here's my last check from my job. I'm going back to work on Tuesday, of course, as my return ticket should indicate." One 2-minute interview with a woman who assumes I'm lying through my teeth later and the whole 2 hour 45-minute ordeal is over. I'm on my way! But my plane is scheduled to leave... a minute ago! Through Herculean efforts of speed walking (try running through an airport without being stopped, I dare you) I actually crossed the entire airport in time for the final boarding call shouting my name. I made it! Sure I'm sweating bullets and stink to high heaven... oh, and have a whole plane full of angry people who I held up to deal with. But I made it! Take that Canadian immigration! Your desperate bid to shave precious hours off my time with my wife has failed!
Let's start off with the good: As any of you living on the north west cost should be aware, Veteran's Day was a rather blustery day. The numbers I heard were steady winds of 32 mph in Portland, 45 mph in Seattle, and gusts as high as 98 mph in Bellingham, WA. Needless to say, this resulted in my flight from Kelowna to Seattle being delayed to the point that I would have missed my flight from Seattle to Portland. Realizing this, the ticket agent in Kelowna (since this was an evening flight) asked me if I wanted to stay an extra day, to which I replied, 'Of course!'
Now for the bad: The next day I unfortunately (well, fortunately for my being able to work and thus make money but unfortunately from a personal desire standpoint) I made my flight to Seattle and knowing I had little time rushed to reach the gate for my Portland flight, only to find it had been delayed from 5:30 to 8:00. Having had all sorts of fun experiences with delayed flights from Horizon, I assumed this flight would eventually be canceled, and put myself on the waitlist for earlier flights. Apparently, there had been a canceled flight at 3 that day in addition to my own delayed flight, so the waitlist was 81 people long. These tiny planes don't even hold that many people! Long story short, the delay was eventually reduced to 7:30 and I made it into Portland late, but within acceptable tolerance.
And finally, the just plain UGLY: And that ugly is Vancouver, BC immigration. When walking through customs I mentioned that I was going to visit my wife, which sends up immediate red flags with customs officials, but they have all that info on file so I'm sort of stuck with having to mention it. This triggered a trip to immigration (even though I'm not immigrating), which is annoying, but I had about 1 hour 45 minutes between flights so I wasn't too worried. This sort of thing has happened many times before. (As an aside, you'd think they'd realize that I'm not staying by now after all the times they've pulled me aside and made me do the paperwork and question dance for this before - hell, I even had my return ticket and my most recent paycheck from my job in Salem in hand for just such an occasion, but does that speed things up? Noooooo.) I get into the line, past an absolutely humongous line for people who were actually immigrating, and see it's only about 10 people long. Great, this shouldn't take long. The people ahead of me look frustrated, and one's got a screaming baby, but dealing with immigration can do that and almost none of them speak any English, so I can't tell what's happening. After about 15 minutes standing there with nothing happening, I start getting suspicious. The lady in front of me from Iran throws up her hands, gestures to her bag and her desire to sit down and that she wants me to save her place. The lady in front of her (the one with the baby) says she's been here since 1 (it's now 2:45) and the line hasn't moved at all. Not even one person called up. There some man of Asian dissent who, judging from the snippets I picked up, was being threatened with arrest because they couldn't get ahold of some person in Calgary was the only person at the counter. Three immigration people were dealing with him. Five officials were standing around in plain sight of everyone making small talk, and two more were in the back moving papers around in what might have been work, but looked more like busy work.
After 30 minutes (3:00) in that line with no movement I asked other to save my place and went to talk to everyone else in the area (that humongous line had emptied, refilled, and emptied again during this time). They all said I was in the right line and to be patient. "But I've been here for 45 minutes," I said. "I have a flight out at 4," I said. "Can we at least get one person to help people and get things moving?" "Oh, they're all busy with other case workers," was the reply. "You do know we can see them, right?" I thought angrily to myself, "They're right there! Unless Britney Spears was here earlier I doubt they're discussing anything to do with cases!" I actually said, "But what about my flight?" "Oh, don't worry, there's lots of flights to Kelowna," they replied. "Yes, but who will pay for it?" I queried. "Not our problem," they said.
At around 3:15 the immigration people standing around finally seemed to notice the angry glares of the immigrants being forced to stand ankle-deep in unmoving bureaucracy without food, water, or indeed a bathroom anywhere nearby. They decided to move the conversation into a nearby conference room. I laid down on my backpack to take a nap. Rage kept me awake. Not one person had been even called up the entire time.
About 3:35 the door to the staff room opens up and immigration officials in bullet proof vests (this is their standard wear and not a change in attire) issued forth. "Hurrah!" I thought foolishly, "They have reached a decision and are back on the job. I may catch my flight yet... there's still only 10 people ahead of me."
Around 3:50 the first glorious cry of "Next!" issues from the most industrious immigration official's mouth. Which is rather akin to saying the tallest midget lorded it over the other midgets, but I digress. It wouldn't be long now... within 5 minutes a second official decided to start working, then a third!
About 3:58 I get my turn. "Yes, my wife is Canadian. No, I'm not staying. Yes, I have a return ticket. Why yes, here's my last check from my job. I'm going back to work on Tuesday, of course, as my return ticket should indicate." One 2-minute interview with a woman who assumes I'm lying through my teeth later and the whole 2 hour 45-minute ordeal is over. I'm on my way! But my plane is scheduled to leave... a minute ago! Through Herculean efforts of speed walking (try running through an airport without being stopped, I dare you) I actually crossed the entire airport in time for the final boarding call shouting my name. I made it! Sure I'm sweating bullets and stink to high heaven... oh, and have a whole plane full of angry people who I held up to deal with. But I made it! Take that Canadian immigration! Your desperate bid to shave precious hours off my time with my wife has failed!