I am not a felon. (500 hits)
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Submitted by <cgb3.at.duke.edu> (View user info) at 2003-12-15 19:17:35 EST
I am not a felon. If borrowing an airport van without telling the owner that I was borrowing it and then leaving it in a long-term parking lot makes me a felon, it was because of necessity dammit, not convenience.
Let me set the scene; June 2002, I was weary from a month of the bullshitfest that is the US Army Airborne School of Fort Benning, GA. I'd had my share of being hot, tired, and treated like a mental invalid, and needless to say, I wanted to get the hell out of there.
So there I was in the airport café, waiting until it was time to go through the security checkpoint, when the PA announcement came that my flight was canceled and that I needed to see the ticket agent. The ticket agent, who was a bit too happy and chipper to be legally sane, informed me that the plane was down for repairs in Charlotte, but it was okay, because my flight leaving FROM ATLANTA would be on time. Nevermind the fact that Atlanta, with its magnificent airport and Delta hub, is an hour away from Columbus, it's okay because I have the ability to sprout wings from my ass and fly there, I just chose to get an airline ticket for my entertainment.
After spending 10 minutes with some of my fellow travelers trying to explain the laws of time and space to the woman with the intelligence of a magically animated eggplant, her boss decided that it would work if they got the three airline vans with u-haul hitches out and drove us up to Atlanta with our baggage. Fair enough. Three hours until my flight, one hour to drive up, 15 minutes to get into the airport, half an hour for security, 15 minutes wiggle time, I've got an hour to drink Jack and Coke before my flight, sweetness.
The first van pulls up, the twenty of us whose flight got canceled toss our bags in the uhaul, and ten lucky customers hop into the van, leaving ten of us waiting. That's when the following hits me: 1) Where is the other van? 2) Where/how am I going to pick up my stuff and 3) Sweet sassy molassy, these airline people have no idea what the fuck they're doing. Wanting some answers, I decided to ask the airline employee; for ease and accuracy in storytelling, lets call her Dumb Bitch #1, or DB1 for short.
Me: Hey, wheres the other van?
DB1: Other van, what other van?
Me: There 10 of us who don't have a ride to Atlanta. How are we going to find our bags when we get up there? Where are they going to be dropped off?
DB1: I don't follow.
Me: Okay. Van one goes to Atlanta. Van one has bags for 10 people who aren't on it. The people on van one check their bags. What happens TO THE OTHER BAGS?
DB1: Good question. I don't know.
Me: Yeah, I'll be putting my stuff with the other van. When is the second van arriving?
DB1: I don't know.
Me: What does it look like?
DB1: I don't know.
Me: (Pointing to an empty van idling in the parking lot with a u-haul hitched up to it) Is that the other van over there?
DB1: Yes.
Thoroughly pissed and exhausted, I join 10 of my fellow travelers in moving my gear to the other van, loading the trailer, and hopping in. Okay, in the van, ready to go, got a plane to catch. Where the hell is the driver. That's what was on everybody else's mind when DB1 approaches.
DB1: Okay, we're almost ready to go, we're just waiting for a few people.
Me: No we aren't.
DB1: Come again?
Me: This van is full. We can't fit anybody else in here. There is NO ROOM. We're ready to go NOW.
DB1: You know, you're right, there's no reason why you can't leave now.
And with that she turned and went back into the airport. Possibly to get the driver, possibly to get what she needed because she was the driver, or possibly to get lost on the way back to her ticket counter that happened to be 10 feet away from the door. Thirty minutes passed. People were getting irate. We were on the verge of drawing straws to decide who would be eaten first when DB1's coworker, Dumb Bitch # 2, approached the van.
DB2: Okay, we're almost ready to go, we're just waiting on a few more people before we can leave.
Me: No, we aren't.
DB2: Sorry?
Me: This van is full. There isn't room for ANYBODY OR ANYTHING ELSE. We've been ready to go for half an hour. We're ready to leave now.
Woman in back of van: Look miss, I've got a flight to catch. Unscrew yourself and get a driver out here NOW.
DB2: You know what, you're right, there's no reason why this van can't leave right this minute.
It felt like déjà vu, but was sadly too stupid and real to be so, but DB2 turns around and marches off to the terminal. I'm thinking fuck, these idiots could take all damn day. I hop out of the van to stretch my legs, and I decide, as a joke, to hop into the vacant driver's seat. "Hey! We should just go now!" and we all shared a laugh. DB1 returns to the van, looks inside and says "Oh good, the driver is here. Thank you for flying Delta!" and walks away.
Never in my conquest of the world had I encountered a situation quite like this. What the fuck was going on here? Am I supposed to drive? If I do, is it stealing? Is she giving me the van? What the hell is this? And so I was looking down at the front panel, engine running, van silent, when my friend who was sitting behind me says: "Do it man. Just do it."
That's enough moral justification for me. The van pulled out of the lot and we went on our merry way to Atlanta. We arrived at the airport, and parked the rig in the long term parking lot (hey, those short term lots get crowded!) and got our stuff. Not knowing exactly what to do with the keys, I just gave them a nice hefty throw into the middle of the ocean of cars.
At the ticket counter, one of the employees was having a heated phone conversation. I was receiving my boarding pass when he slams the phone down and says "Hey, YOU! Did you just come from Columbus?" "Uh, yeah." "How did you get here??" "Uh, I came in a van." Hey, at least you can't call me a liar.
Waiting at the gate, one of my friends from airborne approaches me. "Hey, uh, the cops are looking for you." "Huh?" "Yeah, they think you stole a van from the airport."
FUCK. The sooner I get out of Atlanta the better. That's when the PA announcement chimes that my flight is canceled. Something about being down for repairs in Charlotte. If I ever go to Charlotte I'm going to line up all the airplane mechanics and give them a massive stooge slap. But then its in North Carolina, I'm not sure they've discovered books yet.
Not to worry, the apathetic desk agent informs me that they've booked me a seat on another airline and hands me a ticket. Make my way over to my new gate. "Okay, so I've got you in 22C on this next flight with no checked bags."
Hmm, coulda sworn I had TWO checked bags. "No, I've got two checked bags, here is the stub they gave me." This led to a few minutes of him feverishly tapping on his keyboard with a frown on his face. Then a giant smile blooms on his face and he says "Sorry, we can't seem to locate your bags. Can you describe them for me?" because that is definitely something to smile about.
"Uhm, a suit bag and a green army duffel bag." This elicits a response that one hopes to never hear while flying. "Wow, we get a lot of those around here. This sounds like a recipe for lost baggage to me!" Thanks dickhead.
I get on the plane, and unbeknownst to me, its national crying baby day and I get to thinking that between stupid people and crying babies, the government should make a practice of neutering people. I finally land, head out to the taxi station, and I hear a voice in the back of my head telling me that the taxi cab over there with no driver and a running engine looks pretty damn good. Halfways decent compensation for my bags being lost, at the very least.
FUCK YOU, DELTA AIRLINES!!!
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