The cast generously dropped me off at the airport following our show in East Lansing and headed east towards Pennsylvania. All week- in fact, the last 5 weeks, I’d been daydreaming of my fast escape from tour to Nashville to see my boyfriend following his exciting day of graduation and festivities with friends. While he walked the stage, I was on my own stage in Michigan, and would meet up with him and his family for a special celebration dinner. Thursday and all morning on Friday, I kept checking the United Air flight status, on pins and needles because Lansing has 2 airline ticket desks, and I had a lay over in Chicago. Low and behold, I walk up to check in at the desk and the flight to Chicago at 3:24 pm is not delayed, but CANCELLED. My heart jolted with horror, detached, and plummeted into my stomach. I scanned the list of flights- all Chicago, and the next flight (7:20) seemed to be ON TIME. I immediately ran to the Delta desk and threw down my credit card. “I’d like the next flight to Detroit please!” My eyes were stinging and my voice quavered. “Nope,” the agent shot me down, “we don’t make sales here.” I threw open my backpack and grabbed my laptop while speed dialing my dad (Vanderbilt taught me how to multitask) and scanned the list of flights out of Lansing to Nashville- through Detroit- for the day, and updated my dad on the terrible prospect that I may not make it to Nashville that night. I was crying, eventually, at the flights cost $800, $1100, all arriving around of after 8 pm- Greg’s dinner reservations were set for 7:15!!- and finally found a $300 ticket through Detroit landing at… wait for it… 10:50 pm. So, not only is my trip to Nashville less than 38 hours, I’d miss both dinner with the family and a party hosted by his roommates at 9 pm. I purchased the flights- attempting to seek any sort of affirmation from the stoic Polynesian agent whether or not I would have a fleeting chance at stand by in the Lansing Delta flight at 3:25 pm (instead of my purchased 5:25 pm) to get to Detroit sooner. She shook her head and explained that since it was less than 2 hours before the flight, the cost was over $1,000 and blah blah, couldn’t make out her accent, blah- you’re not going to get there tonight and in fact Nashville doesn’t even EXIST anymore and you’re hopeless- something along those lines, I flew through security. Oh wait, no- they claimed I had a knife in my backpack and tenderly sifted through my lap top case and shoes in my pack to reveal a nail clipper- while my pores secreted more sweat than that ever released in a cross country meet. I made it to the gate for the 3:25 pm flight, praying to GOD there’d be a merciful agent, one that would see through my tears and mangled “Congrats Grad!!!!!” gift bag that I needed to get on that flight to make it to my boyfriend’s graduation dinner. As my palms sweat and I paced in front of the desk, I called up United Airlines and miracle number one, received all my money from the cancelled flight back on my card- no issues. Feeling a little bit of relief that this day would not blow me up financially, I watched at the minutes ticked away and the agent approached the desk. IT WAS THE SAME AGENT FROM DOWNSTAIRS. Launching this game into code red, I immediately launched into a monologue, “I know you don’t do stand by, and you said I have the later flight, but I must get on- if there’s an open seat, I will give anything to be on this plane, United Air cancelled just an hour ago, I’m lost without a home, my puppy died this morning…” lies, desperation, anything to garner some sympathy. She smiled and said, “Oh yes, for a $50 fee, you can have a seat on this flight.” WHAT!!!! What happened to the 1100 cost, the 2 hour limit... does this woman have an evil twin? She even insisted I got back downstairs to pay the fee to the DESK THAT DOESN’T MAKE SALES, and I pleaded with her to take my money, and she called down and took care of it for me. Miracle number 2.
Walking onto that plane should have offered some kind of relief, but I sat up jittery and prayerfully, considering the outcomes of the hour ahead. I looked on my Delta app on my phone to see there was a 5:17 flight from Detroit that would get my into Nashville at 5:50- 25 minutes BEFORE I WAS GOING TO LAND WITH UNITED INITIALLY. I think this is the time the pretty red rash that rests on my cheeks at this point broke out. The plane took off and landed in 30 minutes time and I bolted off that plane like a bat out of hell. Running out of gate C-34, I had to make my way all the way to C-1, and then continue down the B wing to B-18. I was sweating, crying and sweating, maybe secreting other bodily fluids, and panting, held onto the desk of B-18 where the plane awaited its Country music destination. The first agent denied helping me because I needed to wait until we were an hour from our departure. It was 4:30 pm. The plane departed at 5:17. I’m not math whiz, but… And the second agent, who informed the previous one that she was standing at the wrong airline (no wonder she can’t count time- okay I’m getting cynical at this point) asked me to wait while he uploaded the information on the plane flight that evening. Gossip floated in the air that the plane was full and only Platinum members would have a seat. When he finally looked up from the computer, I squealed, “I will sing and dance for you – I desperately need to be on this flight. May I pleaseeeeee ride stand by?!” He laughed, “We have 11, no, 5, no 4, seats open, go down to Einstein Bagels and see the help desk to change your ticket.” Running another half mile through the terminals, the nicest lady helped me switch my flight, robbed me of another $50, and sent me on my way with a ticket declaring MY SEAT ON THE PLANE. Exhausted, overwhelmed with euphoria, thanking god, and taking a moment to use the restroom, I sobbed as I called Greg to let him know that yes, miracle number 3, I’d be flying into Nashville and ready to celebrate at 6 pm.
Sitting in the airport in St. Louis after flying out of Louisville, my flight to Newark and back to tour is delayed an hour and a half. I know flights are unpredictable and all, but why oh why would I have to go through such a rush of panic and stress and spending more money- to only arrive at the same time I planned on all along? All things happen for a reason… But can’t some “things” be less complicated? I guess I’ll understand one day.
The weekend waiting at the end of this saga involved one amazing Vanderbilt graduate, delicious meals, laughter with the Wiggers, reunion with some friends, and relaxation from the busy life on the road. Only 11 days left of tour and I couldn’t be more ready for the next adventure. Wishing everyone safe and minimally stressing flights and travel this summer.
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