Missed flights

Where to from here -

"It's Christmas," he said as if I didn't know otherwise.

I was standing in front of a tall, well-groomed Air Canada customer service agent in Montreal airport last year, biting down hard on my tongue. I had missed my flight home and I needed to not sauce this man who appeared to have no sympathy for my situation.

"Next available flight is on the 28th," he said.

My heart fell around my feet and a lump of hysteria rose in my throat. It was the 12th of December and this man had just told me so unfeelingly that I would not be able to get back to Newfoundland until the 28th. I wanted to cry and strangle him, I wanted to board a plane and call mom, I wanted to do a lot of things but instead I just stood there, letting this awful information sink in. Was I stuck here for Christmas? Alone.

Would I miss my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary?

I felt like I had suddenly walked into a very sad and clichÉ Christmas movie where the young woman spends her holiday trapped in airports, meeting other sad and clichÉ characters trapped in airports. Traveling in December is an exercise in frustration. I explained this to the tall, well-groomed man who continued to clatter away on his keyboard without ever making eye contact. I was suddenly miserable. You have to get me out of here, get me closer to home, I'll fly anywhere. I'll take my chances.

There was a flight to Halifax at nine pm that I might be able to board. Nine pm being seven hours away. There was no connecting flight from there but I would be closer and would have a better chance of grabbing a flight to Newfoundland from Nova Scotia. Fine, I said, fine I'll try that. And so began my adventure toward Newfoundland as I dragged my luggage behind me looking for a pay phone. I didn't have any cash and initially panicked when no one answered at my parents or grandparents. I started collect calling aunts and uncles, finally reaching my cousin's mother in law.

"No Madonna's not here. Is there a message?"

" Yes, please tell Madon to tell mom that I missed my flight and am stuck in Montreal."

I hung up feeling at little better about making contact with the outside world when I noticed a young woman next to me using a phone card. Of course! I can buy a phone card with my debit. This had not occurred to me in my panicked state which made me feel more than a little foolish. Sure, I was after calling the bank in Flower's Cove collect. Good grief Megan, I thought, get a hold of yourself. Everything will be fine. You'll get there...eventually. Eventually being the optimum word. So I dragged my luggage further on, bought a phone card and notified the usual suspects of my circumstance. After hours of drinking coffee in the terminal, I decided to head up to departures and settle in. While waiting a number of people I knew left on early flights after first questioning what I was doing there. I felt a little more ashamed every time I admitted to having missed my flight. Watching people go where you want to but can't is very disheartening. I felt like an excluded teenager begging to be allowed in their boarding pass club. And what's worse, is I always worry about missing flights to the point of complete preoccupation but that was the first time it actually happened.

Finally, thankfully, I boarded the flight to Halifax and discovered that eighty percent of the passengers were members of the Canadian Air Force. A group of brash young men, full of cocky excitement, comparing engagement rings as if the girlfriends had already said yes. I was so tired. I had spent an entire day at an airport and was about to spend an entire night at another. I promised myself I would call my Halifax cousins if I didn't get a flight the next morning, I promised myself a proper gin and tonic in the Halifax bar upon arrival. No such luck as everything was closed with the exception of Tim Hortons and Lord knows I didn't need any more coffee. Halifax airport is a kind of purgatory, a punishment of sorts for being so absent minded, being irresponsible, being the kind of person who misses a fight! I vowed over and over to never be that kind of person again.

A heavy set young girl spent the better part of the night swearing into a pink leopard print cell phone. She had no consideration for the rest of us seated around the food court. Our mangy group of random over nighters. I read a book bought for Christmas, a book I thought I would read in my pajamas on my parent's couch, drinking tea, comfortable. But that was not the case at all as I tried to shift on the hard plastic seats. People are not meant to sleep here I thought as I continued on to the next chapter wishing I hadn't brought this particular book along. Dead Girls. That's what I was reading, a book about young women putting themselves in dangerous situations and going missing or turning up dead. Not exactly heart warming. Sometime after three, a young Asian women allowed me to use her laptop. I thought I wouldn't need mine, I thought it would be a quick trip with a couple a bad airplane movies breaking up the time so I didn't bring it. Boy, was I wrong. I sent some desperate messages through Facebook. At that point I had convinced myself that I would never get home, I felt like Tom Hanks in that movie. Christmas traveling had gotten the better of me, Air Canada had won. I had nothing left.

That is until the much kinder woman at the Air Canada desk in Halifax said she might be able to get me on a flight at nine a.m.

Don't fall asleep she said, if you miss it you may not get another chance she said. I will not, cannot miss this flight I repeated in my mind as I dragged my suitcase toward the other end of the airport, again. I knew where I was going, I was going to Tim's! Caffeine addled and exhausted, I finally arrived in St. John's the next afternoon. I'd been up for a day and a half, I could barely drag myself and my luggage through arrivals and never was I so happy to see my father's truck in my entire life. I made it home for Christmas. Not in great shape but nothing a nap couldn't fix.