TRAVEL HORROR STORY -- PART TWO

We got into our rental car and drove through storm ravaged streets to reach our hotel. Because of airline delays, we'd missed Bob's viewing, which was just as well given Calvin's reluctance of seeing the body of his friend, once a vibrant and jovial soul.

Other alumni of Calvin's high school class were flying in for Bob's funeral from Texas and DC. We'd agreed earlier to stay at the same hotel so we could also visit during our time there. We met the next morning for breakfast. We each had airline horror stories to share thanks to the system of storms that whipped through the southern states the previous day.

When we went to leave for the funeral, the battery on our rental car was dead. We ended up calling a taxi to get us to the church for the services.

Bob's widow had told me during a phone call the color scheme of the funeral was black and ivory, that friends and family were to wear either black or ivory. The color scheme also pertained to the flowers. Only black and cream flowers were allowed around the casket. Flowers of different colors were set to the side of the sanctuary. I confess to ignorance in this area, not knowing if this was a regional or racial preference.

As we sat, waiting for the service to begin, Calvin's hearing aide broke. Thus, he couldn't hear the sermon or any remarks made to honor his best friend.

That night in our hotel room as he tugged off his t-shirt, one of the ear pieces to his glasses broke off. There was no way we could repair them. "What else can possible go wrong?" he grumbled on his way into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the commode overflowed. Yes, folks, the trip had gone to pot.



The following day, when we went to check in at the airport to fly home, the lady at the desk said we still owed for our tickets. Thank goodness I'd printed ticket confirmation when I booked online. She pressed several keys and fiddled and fumed until she found her sought for information.

Unfortunately when she entered our information, she entered us as buying a one-way ticket minutes prior to boarding which sent up red flags to homeland security. They were waiting on us once we passed through normal security screening. I suppose the fact that I was leading Calvin around since he couldn't see well without his glasses only added to our plight.





No, this is not me!!

Security guards seperated us and began questioning. Now remember, Calvin's hearing aide was broken, so he could not hear what was being asked. And with his glasses broken, he couldn't even see the man's mouth move to know the man was speaking. At one point I heard the security guard scream, "What's wrong? Can't you speak English?" Calvin has a Masters in English and can speak it quite well, thank you very much.

Seeing that he needed help, I said to the guard questioning me, "Excuse me, I'll be right back." I left him to hurry over to the guard questioning Calvin to explain that without his hearing aide and glasses, he really was at a disadvantage. The rude guard looked at me as if I were insane.

Meanwhile, the guard I'd just walked away from must have thought I was trying to escape and he called for backup. Security guards, their hands on their sidearms, came running toward me as I tried to explain to Calvin's guard why he couldn't answer his questions. We were both slammed up against the wall and frisked. At the time, I was 60 and Calvin 76, neither of us had ever been frisked before. Suddenly, fear rushed in! OMG, we're grandparents for heaven's sakes...law-abiding senior citizens. This IS America, isn't it?

Two security guards grabbed me and hauled me to the other side of the area. Calvin yelled, "Get your filthy hands off my wife." Probably not the wisest thing to say at this point, but one must understand my husband is very protective. He was once more slammed up against the wall and roughed up. I'm crying.

They tore the linings out of my new shoes, searched my handbag and, of course, raised their eyebrows when they found Calvin's insulin and needles. They threw away my lipstick--we all know how dangerous a tube of lipstick can be. By now I had images of being locked away--forever. We were shoved around, yelled at and repeatedly searched. Then, that suddenly, they said we were free to go and they walked away from us.

Calvin and I embraced as he kept saying, "My God, my God, I can't wait to see the hills of home." Over the intercom came our names. The airlines was holding the flight for us and this was our last call. We ran to our gate, fearful we'd miss our flight. Thankfully we made it. So, tell me, what's your travel horror story?

A TRAVEL HORROR STORY -- PART ONE

I think we all have our travel horror stories: squabbling kids in the back seat, car breakdowns, crappy hotels, food poisoning and airline snafus. I once went on a 7-day cruise while my luggage went to another continent. The cruise ship gave me another suitcase, and I bought new clothes only to have the new luggage fly to Texas while I flew home to an airport on the eastern coast. So I lost my luggage coming and going on that trip.

Even so, nothing beats the horror story of our last trip to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Bob, Calvin's best friend since elementary school, passed away. He and Bob not only went to school together, but joined the Army together after getting their bachelors and then attended graduate school with each other once their duty to Uncle Sam was complete. They had a strong bond. Bob had recently retired as head of the biology department at Southern University. Although we knew of his heart problems, his death came as a shock. He'd been talking on the phone to his momma when his diseased heart simply gave way.

To get to Baton Rouge quickly enough to attend the funeral, I made online flight arrangements taking whatever flights I could find. This created a hodgepodge trip connecting from Lynchburg to Charlotte to Memphis to Baton Rouge. All went reasonably well until we reached Memphis where heavy storms were rolling in. Airline personnel announced that the restroom on our flight was out of order and we should use restrooms in the airport prior to boarding.

Once onboard, the flight attendant announced that the air conditioning system on the plane was not working either. A few minutes later she informed us that there was no personnel to load our luggage onto the flight and our luggage would arrive in Baton Rouge the following day. However, if we really needed our luggage, we were welcome to load it ourselves. Bob's funeral was in the morning to say nothing of the viewing that evening, so yes, we needed our luggage. I got off the plane in the wind and the rain, along with many other customers, and heaved our luggage into the bowels of the commuter plane.

So, now I'm wet and wind-blown, scrunched into a seat on an airline with no fresh airflow. Varying degrees of human hygiene are perfuming the hot, stagnant air. And I'm trying to keep my over-active bladder from focusing on having no usable bathroom onboard.

Then, the hostess announces the plane is overweight and they need 5 passengers to get off. Seems the airline was out of fuel in Baton Rouge, so our plane had to carry enough fuel to fly from Memphis to Baton Rouge and also to make the return trip back. Two people got off. Again the hostess speaks to the passengers. The pilot refuses to take-off until 3 more disembark. No takers.

Meanwhile it's getting stuffier onboard, AND my bladder is whispering, "Now...now!!"

We sat there for hours while the hostess went from person to person, asking, pleading for people to get off the plane. The storm is rolling across the airport and the plane starts rocking on the tarmac. My bladder is now screaming, "Now...I need emptied now." Finally, 3 people agreed to get off. We sat there for 3 and a half hours, missing Bob's viewing.

At last one commuter plane, rank with human smells and no operating restroom, was airborne. We landed in Baton Rouge to a dark airport. Tornados had wiped out electrical service. Everyone hurried off the plane stampeeding to the nearest restroom in semi-darkness thanks to security lighting. By now, my bladder is screeching!!!

Calvin and I tramped to the car rental part of the airport to pick up the car I'd rented online. The person at the counter bemoaned the fact their computers were out and she'd have to fill out the forms by hand. Oh, gee, poor thing! We stepped out into the hot, muggy night to the parking lot to get our rental car. As soon as I saw it, I knew we were in trouble...

Stop back tomorrow for the rest of the story on our trip. Meanwhile, what's the worst experience you've had while traveling?