You land at an airport. You pull up to the gate. You sit.
And sit.
The pilot comes on and informs you that there’s no Flyway (the tube walkway from plane to terminal) operator. One’s been called.
Fifteen minutes later, the Flyway operator shows up. Minutes pass.
"Folks, it seems the Flyway is broken. They’ve called a mechanic."
Ten minutes pass. "Well, folks, we had this problem last week and the mechanic showed up right away. I don’t know what this is…"
Five minutes later he shows up. Ten minutes pass.
"Folks, we’re going to have to call the county {and I am sure he said "county." – who operates the DTW airport, I suppose] and see if we can get permission for you to take the stairs."
Ah, the stairs. The stairs – ten steps leading up to a door that opens into the Flyway. Ten feet away from the plane.
Almost forty minutes after this ordeal starts, we are given permission to walk ten feet and go up the stairs into the Flyway.
Thank goodness I had a longish layover, although I had hoped to try to catch an earlier flight to Atlanta – which I actually might have been able to do had we disembarked on time.
Oh, another reason people hate flying, airlines and such?
Because there are, indeed, direct flights from Fort Wayne to Atlanta. But two weeks ago, when we were arranging this, tickets for those direct flights were over $800, while it only costs 350 to go NW through Detroit. Again – go figure.
And may I be I have no doubt not the first to say that the walkway from the C to the A terminal in Detroit, which I’ve traversed many times before, seriously creeps me out?
I’m sure this is not the only place to sport this kind of light show – it strikes me that the Orlando airport has one too, but perhaps my memory deceives me in that regard – perhaps it just seems like a very Florida kind of thing to do. I am sure there are psychological studies that show this is supposed to be relaxing. I find it nerve-wracking, as if I am being transported into the unknown.
But perhaps I am…..
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