When: March 2009
In 2009, I got to go to Ghana for work. At this point I decided that I was an official baller. Delta, as always was ready to crush my spirit. This is the story.
The original plan was to fly from Dulles to Ghana through Amsterdam. I had an 8 hour layover in Amsterdam so I was even plan to leave the airport for a quick canal tour. ProTip: Don’t ever make plans that rely on the punctuality of Delta.
So I arrive at the airport, check my bag, get my tickets and head to the gate. I’ve been there for about 2 hours and my flight is boarding in five minutes when suddenly an announcement is made that the flight is canceled. Canceled – not delayed, just plain canceled. No further announcements. I head over to the counter and am told that I will need to go BACK TO TICKETING to find get rerouted. That means back out of security, three terminals over to the Delta counter.
This can’t happen to me. I’m a Baller. I can’t be about to miss my first work trip because Delta felt like calling in lame today.
So I do what I have to do, I grab my carry on and sprint like I’ve never sprinted before through three terminals. There was no stopping for things like the terminal shuttle. Or old ladies. Eventually I make it to the delta counter and somehow manage to beat around 200 angry dutch people who line up behind me. By this time I am an approximate a 8 on the 1-disgusting scale. My mad dash sprint has left me sweaty and disheveled and I’m pretty sure I didn’t seem like a professional on a work trip as I claimed to be. I would assume I looked more like some kind of desperate fugitive from justice.
Anywho, 20 minutes and an additional trip through security later I’m rerouted through London to arrive in Ghana only a few hours after my original arrival time. Unfortunately this new ticket doesn’t include my luggage which is conveniently trapped on my now canceled flight. Pro Tip 2: Never check a bag.
So I arrive in London with only the (now very sweaty) shirt on my back, and immediately go and buy toiletries so that I won’t be a complete stinky mess. My next move is to find something to wear to work. It has just occurred to me that Ghana will be 90 degrees and all I have is the jeans and tshirt that I used to race through the airport. I figure London will have something that I can wear… I was wrong. The closest thing I find is a store where a woman tries to sell me a black linen, sleeveless jump suit (“trust me this is VERY in”… rioght).
Eventually I give up and just board my plane to Ghana. Luckily I only spend 2 days without my suitcase before I am able to locate it at the airport. I have my work clothes in time for training day one.