In a nutshell, my trip started Wednesday morning, July 27th with a flight from SLC to Atlanta that, due to lightening storms, was diverted to a smaller airport in Columbia, South Carolina. Once there the storm had past Atlanta, but we waited for three hours for the plane to get refueled. People became impatient and wanted to get off the plane so we waited forever for the small airport to bring their only stair-vehicle to our plane so those eager to get off could do so.
Once they exited the plane the stair-vehicle was unable to start and so instead of putting it in neutral and pushing it clear of the plane, our huge Boeing 757 inched back and forth clearing us from it like a teenager trying to parallel park for the first time.
So now five hours later we are back in the air, but cannot land in Atlanta due to a tire blowout of another plane blocking the runway.
Well good thing we refueled since we circled Atlanta over and over while the ground crew cleared the mess. So obviously everyone on our plane missed his or her connecting flight. So people rebooking now have to wait in a three-hour line zigzagging back and forth while three Delta ticket agents handle the mess. Did Delta not foresee there would be a need for all hands on deck?
Despite the all mishaps to this point, since this mess commenced from weather, Delta simply handed me a sad excuse for a blanket and pointed to a cozy cold tile on the floor, claiming there were no rooms available in the tinny-tiny-town that is home to the Falcons and Braves they must have a hard time filling the stadiums with so little accommodations available. Of course I found vacancy at the first hotel I called from a nearby courtesy phone and booked it though a Delta night-manager at the time had washed their hands of any reimbursement.
People, the fun hasn't even begun!
Well with the freshness of a new morning I returned to the airport, spoke with a more reasonable manager and received $53.35, which Delta calls compensation. Never-the-less I was pleased that they satisfied the bill and had rebooked my itinerary so that I would catch a Brazil-bound plane from Miami. Well I flew to Miami only to return to Atlanta three hours later since no airline in Miami could guarantee me a seat to Brazil. Why Delta would send me to Miami without a confirmed ticket on my connection boggles me. But while in Miami I was still wearing the same clothes (and underwear) of 36 hours ago, so I asked where my luggage was so that I could possibly change. We don't know were it is, says the Delta manager of luggage. I file a missing luggage report and then I am sent back to Atlanta, landing with a whole 10 minutes to cross a half a mile of passageways to my connecting flight to Brazil. I made it, my lost luggage never did.
So Friday, July 29th, fifty hours later, yes, fifty hours, I can at least say I am safely home. Without my clothes and keepsakes, but home.
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