Story of the Day 7/ 18/ 2012 - part 3

Vouchers in hand we made our way to the right and down the hall and out of the secured perimeter of the departing flights and to the baggage claim.
We went to the area where the car services do their pickups and the man there told me they couldn't accept the voucher from the airline.

He told me to go to the airline's service desk behind the baggage carousels.

Sarah and I went and stood in line behind a slew of passengers who were here at LaGuardia, but whose luggage was not.
These were mostly other passengers who had not planned on spending more than a few hours in the airport awaiting their connecting flights; and many were now on their cells phones trying to arrange for a hotel while their clean underwear and their toothbrushes were in the underbelly of a jet or perched atop a truck whose crew was taking three hour coffee break between unloading the plane and loading the baggage onto the carousel.

When we got to the front of the line, the lady called a car service that would accept the voucher and wrote the number for it on the voucher for tomorrow morning's trip back to the airport, so we could get back in time for our flight.
Then she told us where to wait and too look for a black Lincoln Towncar withan emblem on the side saying "B....."
She told us it would be here in 5-10 minutes.
She did all of this without my having to resort to the AARP magazine tactics....

Sarah and I went outside and stood on the cement meridian and waited.
And waited.
We didn't waste our time. We carefully scanned a number of the car service vehicles that came by and learned what a Lincoln Town car looks like, so that we would recognize one.

And we waited.

About 30 minutes later, Sarah and I discussed going back inside to speak with the lady.
We discussed this because I had tried to call the car service, and was unable to hear the guy on their end of the line.
If it was a guy.
Maybe it was a girl. maybe it was a recording. Maybe it was music.
It was not a busy signal. I know that much.

Luckily, in another ten minutes, it became unnecessary for us to go in and ask her about the car service.
That is because she came outside to us.
The driver couldn't find us.
Also, he was driving a blue van.
As it turns out, we were looking for a black Lincoln Town car, and he was looking for us in the wrong location, even though he had been told to meet us outside of Delta's baggage pickup.

So, after 59 minutes of standing on the cement, we were in a vehicle and headed to the Flushing Hotel.
Which is in Flushing.
In China Town.

We figured this out because all of the signs were in Chinese.
Some of them had subtitles.
In English.

The hotel did.

Sarah and I were thrilled.

This, at least, was definitely a sight cooler than the airport terminal.
We went into the hotel whose lobby was minuscule in the way that only New York City hotel lobbies are, but clean.
As we waited our turn at the desk, numerous Chinese speaking guests walked in and out of the hotel with shopping bags.
Sarah and I were also fairly certain they were Chinese and not Chinese-American.
That had nothing to do with the language they were speaking, it had to do with the fact that three of them were able to walk abreast through the lobby.
This a feat that three super sized American tourists could not have accomplished.
Probably not two, either.

Meanwhile, I had texted Ely and Aaron that we are at the hotel.

Unfortunatly, I got their hopes up a bit prematurely.

The desk clerk looked at our vouchers and said she did not have reservations for us.

The airline's red coat lady had called, asked if they had a room, and then hung up upon hearing the word "yes". She hadn't actually reserved it.
Meanwhile, the hotel was getting sent people from other cancelled flights.
She checked.
They had a room.
But then she realized that the vouchers did not have a value.
We were not her first airline casualties of the evening, and the others, including one from Delta, had arrived with vouchers with a dollar value.
She calls the number I have for Delta.
She is put on hold.
Sarah sits in a chair. Small but comfortable.
Especially since the air-conditioning is working.
I stand by the young lady in my airport fragrance. This is an odor I have developed after 4 1/2 hours in the un-ariconditioned terminal, and an additional hour standing outside on the cement on a hot summer evening.

I go sit down.
Time passes.
After about 25 minutes, she gives up with being on hold. We confer. We come up with another number.
She calls it.
This time the hold is more like 10 minutes.
She reads off our voucher numbers.
They will send someone over with new vouchers in 5 minutes.
Five minutes pass.
Ten minutes pass.
Twenty minutes pass.
I give her my charge card and she xeroxes the un-dollar-amounted vouchers for me.
We will get a room no matter what, at this point.
That is becasue I have my daughter sitting on the small but comfortable chair in the air-conditioned hotel lobby, and I suspect we will not be welcome if she has to sit and sleep on it all night.
And I can't see dragging her back to the un-airconditioned terminal at this hour.

Then, a young woman- young by my middle aged standards, shows up.
She is another airline casualty.
And she has our vouchers, as well as her own.

She is practically in tears.
She was on a flight from Sweden that got in early this morning, then they cancelled her afternoon flight home. She is so sleep deprived that apparently her crying in the terminal earned a bit of compassion from the airline and they have sent her to the hotel to get some sleep.
A room is cleaned up for her.

In the meanwhile, Ely has texted me that there is good food in Chinatown and we need to go out and get some.
I look out on the street.
It is late. Everything has closed and the street is dark.
I text him back that I do not think that even great food is worth it, if we have to stumble around on unlit streets to find it.

And, after all, I have the emergency rations.

We all go to our rooms.

Ours is a little bit bigger than one of our bathrooms at home.
It looks clean, but I have heard numerous stories about hotels and bed bugs.
With concern, I lift the covers. Sarah looks at me to ask what I am doing and I explain.
I pull back the sheets. I check under the mattress.
It looks safe.

And the toilet works.

So does the shower. It even has hot water and Sarah and I work on becoming less fragrant.
Okay, I was the fragrant one. She was still tolerable.

And we sleep.

With both cell phones set to alarm.
And instructions to the front desk to wake us with a call.

I am not sure, at this point, what will be necessary to do that, although, as it happens, the first cell phone does the trick.



The drive from Indianapolis to Rochester is about 13 hours including potty-breaks and two gasoline purchases. Longer if we eat.
And I would have gotten more sleep. Even if I was the only one driving.
Oh well.


Sarah and I get dressed and prepare to spend another day playing airport roulette.