I don’t have a Carlos story this week because, to be honest,
I haven’t been home an awful lot until Monday of this week, so I’ll share my
first experience with an Airport Karen.
Flying home, I went from Portland to Atlanta—long flight—and
arrived to find I had to take a train and a hike to my gate to catch the flight
from Atlanta to Columbia. As I tend to book flights that have at least an hour
layover I had the time and soon I was at the gate for my next
flight. I sat down, took out a bottle of water and began to wait when a woman
rushed up to the gate attendant shrieking that she’d missed her flight:
“They just closed the fucking gate! I was there and they
closed the fucking gate! The plane is sitting right there and they won’t
fucking let me on.”
When I say she was shrieking, think of what you believe to
be shrieking and multiply it by a hundred. But the man at the gate simply said:
“Ma’am, go to the Delta counter and they will get you
rebooked as quickly as possible. I cannot do anything right here.”
“NO! You are gonna give me a free flight. You’re gonna give
me a free fucking shuttle to my house and get my luggage off that plane and
onto the new flight—"
“Ma’am that plane is leaving. There’s no way I can get them—”
“Fuck that! Get me someone to talk to right now!”
“Ma’am. Go down to the Delta counter and they can get you on
a flight and take care of your bags and any questions you may have. I cannot do
that for you here.”
The woman looks around and sees me and shrieks:
“Do you hear this? He won’t even fucking help. Do you hear
this?”
And I said:
“No, ma’am, all anyone can here is you screaming and cursing
at him—”
“Fuck you, too.”
“Well, now, if I was interested in that, which I am not, I
at least arrived at my gate in plenty of time to make my flight.”
“Fuck youuuuuuuuuuuu!!!”
And then she ran off through the airport. |