DFW
Last Thursday I spent the night in the Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport. It wasn't my plan to, of course. After flying in from the Southland, I was hoping to catch the 4 p.m. flight to Cedar Rapids, where my mom was going to pick me up and take me home to surprise my dad for his 60th birthday; I was his present.
For weeks I worried about the weather in Eastern Iowa, praying there wouldn't be a repeat of my trip home for the holidays (I still haven't written about that). The succession of winter storms continued to batter Iowa City, but the forecast was good for my arrival. I never thought I'd have problems in Dallas.
When I left Santa Ana the pilot said there was light rain at DFW. During the flight, a stewardess walking down the aisle announced to the passengers, “In twenty years on this job I have never heard of this. There is a thundering snow storm in Dallas.” I crossed my fingers hoping there wouldn’t be any accumulation, or that it would stay warm enough for everything to melt. When the 737 touched down light rain misted the window next to me. As we taxied the droplets became more and more coagulated. By the time we reached the gate the air was filled with large flakes of snow. The ground was covered in slush. On a distance runway I saw a plane take-off steeply into the blur of the storm, leaving a short-lived streak of melted snow in its wake. I thought, “If we can take-off in this, I don’t know if I want to.”
My flight was cancelled and so were many others. The situation was a nightmare. I tried to get out that night on flights to Chicago but those were cancelled as well. I even managed to get on a flight to Des Moines on a standby list, but was taken off the plane because it was overweight (not because of just me, but because of the full flight and all the extra luggage they had to take; instead of taking the confirmed passengers, they sacrificed the standby’s, and I was one of them).
I wasn’t pissed or angry, wasn’t frustrated or desperate. I was calm and collective; I knew there was nothing I could do about it, so I decided to make the best of the situation. I had options in the morning — and was able to catch an early flight to Cedar Rapids — so I decided to make it an adventure. Some of the pictures aren’t superb, but they should give you an idea of what it’s like to spend a night in an airport if you never have.
The stranded traveler. For some reason the reflection makes it look like I have a mustache. Yuck.
Terminal B.
Skylink escalator. Notice the people tucked away at the bottom near the elevator, sleeping on cots with red airport blankets.
Skylink station.
The scene outside (ignore the camera's reflection). The slushy ground accumulation melted overnight.
Empty Skylink train. I rode it around the airport a couple times. It was something to do, and the movement was soothing.
Gate with no one waiting.
Empty bridge between terminals. The airport was very surreal at night.
Resting my feet on the cot I received. I think I went seven or eight hours without sitting, so my feet were killing me. I didn't lay on the cot, though; I was too afraid someone would take my bag while I slept. I eventually found a cushioned booth at a TGIFriday's restaurant to lay and rest.
My breakfast the next morning: Pasta salad, a Snickers, and a Mountain Dew (Snickers and Mountain Dew not shown, obviously). Just the thing for a growing boy.
For weeks I worried about the weather in Eastern Iowa, praying there wouldn't be a repeat of my trip home for the holidays (I still haven't written about that). The succession of winter storms continued to batter Iowa City, but the forecast was good for my arrival. I never thought I'd have problems in Dallas.
When I left Santa Ana the pilot said there was light rain at DFW. During the flight, a stewardess walking down the aisle announced to the passengers, “In twenty years on this job I have never heard of this. There is a thundering snow storm in Dallas.” I crossed my fingers hoping there wouldn’t be any accumulation, or that it would stay warm enough for everything to melt. When the 737 touched down light rain misted the window next to me. As we taxied the droplets became more and more coagulated. By the time we reached the gate the air was filled with large flakes of snow. The ground was covered in slush. On a distance runway I saw a plane take-off steeply into the blur of the storm, leaving a short-lived streak of melted snow in its wake. I thought, “If we can take-off in this, I don’t know if I want to.”
My flight was cancelled and so were many others. The situation was a nightmare. I tried to get out that night on flights to Chicago but those were cancelled as well. I even managed to get on a flight to Des Moines on a standby list, but was taken off the plane because it was overweight (not because of just me, but because of the full flight and all the extra luggage they had to take; instead of taking the confirmed passengers, they sacrificed the standby’s, and I was one of them).
I wasn’t pissed or angry, wasn’t frustrated or desperate. I was calm and collective; I knew there was nothing I could do about it, so I decided to make the best of the situation. I had options in the morning — and was able to catch an early flight to Cedar Rapids — so I decided to make it an adventure. Some of the pictures aren’t superb, but they should give you an idea of what it’s like to spend a night in an airport if you never have.
The stranded traveler. For some reason the reflection makes it look like I have a mustache. Yuck.
Terminal B.
Skylink escalator. Notice the people tucked away at the bottom near the elevator, sleeping on cots with red airport blankets.
Skylink station.
The scene outside (ignore the camera's reflection). The slushy ground accumulation melted overnight.
Empty Skylink train. I rode it around the airport a couple times. It was something to do, and the movement was soothing.
Gate with no one waiting.
Empty bridge between terminals. The airport was very surreal at night.
Resting my feet on the cot I received. I think I went seven or eight hours without sitting, so my feet were killing me. I didn't lay on the cot, though; I was too afraid someone would take my bag while I slept. I eventually found a cushioned booth at a TGIFriday's restaurant to lay and rest.
My breakfast the next morning: Pasta salad, a Snickers, and a Mountain Dew (Snickers and Mountain Dew not shown, obviously). Just the thing for a growing boy.
Comments
Post a Comment