Adventure at the Airport

Despite loading the plane before the scheduled departure time, my Bergen to London flight left the gate late resulting in a late arrival in London. My layover in London was supposed to be an hour, but after I deplaned, I had a bit less than that.  

I was met outside the plane by a British Airways representative holding an iPad displaying "SFO." He handed me an orange card that was supposed to act as a fast pass. With this pass, I could bypass some of the waiting in line.

I breezed by all the people waiting in line to go through passport control. If I had waited in that line, I most definitely would have missed my flight. I rushed from passport control to security. I was ushered into a separate, shorter line for the security process as well.  Although shorter, the line was not short.

By this time, I had also become aware that I had to be at my designated gate a minimum of 20 minutes before departure. Apparently, all gates close 20 minutes before plane departure. This fact was quite unfortunate, especially since once I passed through security I realized that I wasn't even in the same terminal as my gate and I would need to take the shuttle. The in-flight magazine I read on my first flight from Bergen to London mentioned that a person should allow at least an hour to get from one terminal to another. I had less than an hour, and even with the help of the orange pass, I was rather stressed.

I boarded the shuttle to the correct terminal; I only had to ride for two stops. Unfortunately, the shuttle was completely packed and when it stopped at my terminal, I was on the opposite side from the door. Even more unfortunately, a gentleman dropped a shopping bag in front of the door and was bending over to pick it up. Because of the number of people in the car and the poorly placed floor-to-ceiling hand bars, I was unable to exit the shuttle.

Terrified that the train would leave with me still on it - there would be no way to make my flight on time if it did - I raised my voice to the gentleman demanding he let me off. He was still in my way, but another way opened up and I rushed off the train car and into the terminal seconds before the doors closed.

I basically ran-walked to the gate, which of course, was at the end of the terminal. I actually made my flight on time with only one minute to spare before the gate closed. The flight from London to San Francisco was without incident and Greg was waiting there for me when I exited the SFO baggage claim.

It turns out that although I made my London to San Francisco flight on time, my bag didn't. I was told I would have to wait a day or two, but the bag would be delivered to my house. By that point, I was actually perfectly fine with waiting a day or two for my bag, especially when that meant that I didn't have to stand around the airport for another 20 or 30 minutes waiting for it.

Greg said I was the first one from my flight to make it to the arrivals area. And fortunately, I was also the first to start the final leg of the journey home.

Finally, I am home, and I am glad to be here.