Recently, I was giving advice on standard operating procedures when traveling by airplane. The person in question had never flown and was asking a few questions. I rattled off general security checkpoint “do’s” and “don’ts” and even called up the airline’s web page to scroll through what you are allowed to carry-on to the plane.
Then it hit me, when did I become an expert on air travel? OK, expert is a strong word; however, I am to the point where I can give a decent run down of what to expect. It wasn’t that long ago that I was in the same situation.
In 2008, I traveled by plane for the first time when my family went to California. My brother and dad had been on a plane before, so they knew what to expect and shared that with me. Plus, I had a well-traveled college roommate who offered tons of advice before arriving at the airport.
I can’t remember if I was scared to fly. It’s all a bit of blur, really. I think I was mostly excited because I had wanted to travel by plane for a very long time.
My first flight began in Kansas City. Even with all the advice, I had no idea what I was doing. Dad dropped us at the gate before parking the van. We got our boarding passes and headed to the security checkpoint. Luckily, we all made it through without incident. We found our terminal and patiently waited for our boarding call.
Once aboard, I found takeoff to be exhilarating. I had seen so many planes take off I knew what to expect. The speed, combined with the moment when I realized we were no longer on the ground, was such a rush. We had a brief layover in Arizona before arriving in sunny San Diego on time — well, close, anyway. Landing in San Diego was a beautiful sight. I’ll never forget seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time as we made our descent.
The vacation was fantastic. We made a lot of great memories, and I was sad when we headed back to the airport.
My first flying experience went perfectly, so I should have guessed the return trip would be different. While we were waiting for our plane to arrive in San Diego, the terminal shook, and the glass rattled, making a loud noise. A visit to California wouldn’t be complete without an earthquake, right? The quake originated in Los Angeles, so we didn’t get the full effect, but that was enough for me. The day went downhill from there.
Our plane was coming from Atlanta, and there were bad storms in that area (that was the airline’s story anyway) so it was late. It made us miss our connecting flight in Arizona. The only other flight from Arizona to Kansas City wasn’t until 7:30 p.m. Mountain Time. So, when we finally arrived in Arizona just after 2 p.m., we had a few hours to kill. This was pre-smartphone days for me, so my sister and I decided to wander the terminal. We picked up a few silly souvenirs along the way.
Finally back in Kansas City, all I wanted to do was be home. We made our way to baggage claim, and waited for our bags to arrive on the carousel. They never came. Then an announcement came over the loud speaker “Mark Rodgers and family, please report to the lost luggage office.” OK, I’m not exactly sure of the words, but it was something close to that. We found the office, convinced our luggage was lost. As it turns out, our luggage was the only thing that managed to arrive in Missouri on time. We are still not sure how that happened.
My dad had taken a shuttle to long term parking, so he missed the whole luggage ordeal. He finally pulled up to the pick-up point, having had trouble navigating back to the terminal. Bags in tow, we piled into the van and started back to Iowa well after midnight. We finally arrived at home in the early morning hours. Thank you, Dad, for letting us all sleep except you.
I’ve been on a plane almost every year since, but I’ll never forget the air travel sampler of both good and bad possibilities we got all in one trip.
Contact Pam Rodgers at 641-792-3121 ext. 6530 or prodgers@newtondailynews.com