Vacations Blog

This view was what started the whole ordeal.

Some would blame the 2 hours of sleep I was going on – I’m open to that being one of the catalysts for not one, but two airlines, and their passengers being upset at me.

It was kind of my fault.

That being said, how in the world I can go through 2 checkpoints, my shoes and belt being removed, laptop out of its case, bag scanned twice and then swabbed for residue, a pat-down and half of my toiletries being thrown away and still manage to board the wrong airplane is beyond me.

Seriously.

Not that I blame the nice, healthy-looking staff of the Redmond, OR Airport, but somewhere along the chain of command couldn’t one of them raised a hand and, at least, suggested they leave little signs indicating which tiny plane went where?

See, this is where my sleep-deprivation comes in; I should have asked. And I didn’t. I chose the plane that looked most like it was about to make the 30-minute hop over to Portland.

I ducked into the machinery that surely didn’t fall under the ‘if you lose one engine, you can still fly on the other’ category and the attendant immediately could tell my bag wasn’t going to fit into the overhead.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take your seat and I’ll put it down below for you?.”

I took my seat – 3C, as requested, for a view of Mt. Hood at sunrise, followed by the ruggedly gorgeous Oregon Coast.

More filed in and I laid my head back. A man sat down in front of me and quietly asked the same attendant (there was only room for one) something to which she sweetly shrugged off:

“Oh, this happens a lot, don’t worry.”

I didn’t worry and closed my eyes again.

And then we sat.

And sat.

When a murmur begins in a cabin that small, everyone can feel it. For some reason, we weren’t going anywhere.

“We’re almost ready to go,” crackled the redundant intercom.  “Just a few more minutes and we’ll be getting you on your way to Salt Lake City.”

I didn’t want to go to Salt Lake City. Ever. But especially not this morning, as I had a connecting flight to Honolulu.

I repeated most of this to the attendant.

“You’re supposed to be on the Portland flight, right?”

Yes I was.

“They’ve been trying to find you.”

Trying to find me? In this day in age? Anyone could look at my blog, my Facebook, my Twitter and tell you exactly where I was, but the airline lost me?

In my twenties, there was a phrase having to do with a walk, and shame. I’ll spare you the origin of that, but just know that the exiting off of flight #1 and then the stroll to #2, was anything but confidence boosting. When the pilot’s face carries the same expression as the now late passengers, you know you’ve screwed up.

I got on the wrong plane this morning and have to admit that I’m kind of impressed.

If only I could say the same for the rest of those involved…

Aric Q. is traveling to Hawaii and he’s trying to do it on the cheap.  We will be following his adventures here on UpTake and we will be wishing him well, but we will NOT be wiring him money.