Home > Leftovers > One man versus an airport: my travel story

One man versus an airport: my travel story

A few weeks ago, I mentioned my bad luck with Boston Logan airport. This week, I made another three-day trip to Beantown, and I’ll admit, I was a bit anxious about returning to my nemisis. Can an airport be your nemisis? Well, I don’t really have a person who fills that role, so yeah… Logan is my arch-enemy.

(Naturally, if I have an arch-enemy, it would cause me to let loose a KHAAAAN!!-like scream a la Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan. So I’d yell out LOOOOOGAAAAAN! And it would come out like Colonel Clink screaming “Hogan” in Hogan’s Heroes. That’s just plain weird.)

Anyway, I arrived in Boston on Monday, without a major incident. OK, I was about an hour late landing, but that’s the equivalent of “on time” arrival when you factor an American flight going into LOOOOGAAAAN! See, it doesn’t work.

There were a few other co-workers on hand for this event in Boston, and I was scheduled to leave yesterday on the same flight as James, a relatively new guy at my office. I warned him, repeatedly, that my luck getting out of Boston oscillated between “piss poor” and “ridiculously bad.”

As a sidenote, with the closure of part of the Ted Williams tunnel due to the fatal falling ceiling tiles, the entire travel situation is Boston is also oscillating between “piss poor” and “ridiculously bad.” Take Tuesday… we had a meeting in Framingham, about 20 miles (I guess) outside of the city. Normally, it takes about 30-35 minutes to get back to Logan. On Tuesday, with the tunnel closed, it took 1:20 to get to our hotel, which is adjacent to the airport. Was it rush hour? Nope, 3:00 actually.

So, by late Tuesday, I began to feel like my nemisis was growing stronger and stronger. And then Wednesday happened. Dig this…

I’m in Cambridge for the last meeting of the week. At 3:00, I’d be on my way to Logan, with plenty of time to make my 6:35 flight. Then James calls at around 1:45.
“Your luck continues,” he said. “American called and is trying to switch people from our flight onto the earlier [4:50] flight.”

I had a panic moment, called the airline and learned that they “thought” that the 6:35 flight was still on schedule. I bagged the meeting in Cambridge and headed to the airport anyway. When I’m 5 minutes away from Logan, they airline called to ask me to switch to the 4:50 flight. The reason? The later one was oversold.

So, I’m pretty happy, nonetheless, because I’m now booked on an earlier flight. But that can’t be the end of the story. A nemisis doesn’t go down like a punk.

Sure enough, by the time I check in and get to the gate (in that lovely no-bathroom-having section of Terminal B), the flight was now scheduled for 5:07. Then 5:15. Then 5:47. By the time James and another co-worker (Ron from the “ice cream bar in South Beach” story), I was convinced that Logan was just toying with me.

But, all’s well that ends well. The flight left at a little before 6. And I didn’t have to fly today, when the terrorist threat level was upgraded to burnt umber, and you weren’t allowed to carry chapstick onto a plane.

Of course, Logan got the last laugh yesterday. That 6:35 flight? It took off 4 minutes early and landed only 20 minutes behind my plane. My fight with Logan continues. You won this round. You’ll probably win the rest. Until I start flying into Providence.

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