Two days ago I was at the Des Moines airport on standby for a flight back to San Antonio. I’d come up to Iowa earlier that day to attend my grandmother’s funeral, and was now trying to get a flight home so I could get back to work the next day. My sister-in-law, who works for airlines, was working with my wife to get me on another flight. One flight had been cancelled, and all those passengers were shuffled to the flight I was supposed to get on, pushing me out of the flight, so I got to the airport early while the gals worked it out. I got the call, and was told to try and squeeze on a flight to Chicago. There weren’t many seats left, but if I made it on, I’d have no problem getting into SA. I waited at the gate counter, and after everyone else was on the plane and the gangway door closed, the agent called my name and gave me the tickets. I went to the gate door and waited patiently. The agent went to the door, opened it, and slammed it behind her. I waited there a few more minutes, and then the door opened. She slammed it behind her, whisked past me, and started clicking away at her console. I looked outside and was surprised to see the gangway pulling back from the aircraft. I walked up to the counter, and she said, “May I help you?” You-are-kidding-me, I thought. I said, “Yes,” and handed her my ticket. She read it and her eyes got big. She glanced out the window to see the plane pulling away, turned red and said “Oh, c__p.” Not a good sign. She started typing away a bit more furiously, and said “I wondered why I still had one seat open.” I was hot. “I thought you were right behind me,” she said. Not without getting pinned in a slamming door, I thought. She then re-listed me on a flight that connected thru Dallas to SA, apologized and told me that she bumped up my priority. I boarded a few minutes later, and made it on the flight to SA, and, according to my sister-in-law, bumped some other people who were listed on standby before I was.

On the DFW-SAT flight, I ended up sitting next to a young gal who appeared quite nervous. She apologized for squirming around so much, and I noticed that she had military orders in her hand. I asked where the military was sending her, and found out she was on her way to Lackland AFB for basic military training (bootcamp). I told her that I retired from the military, and she started asking me for pointers about basic. Well, I was there over 25 years ago, but some of the truths still held. We talked for most of the flight, and I was able to give her some advice, and she shared about her desire for a military career in the medical field. By the end of the flight Tamara seemed a bit more calm, and I enjoyed sharing some ‘sage’ advice with her.

So it seems I didn’t get on the wrong flight after all.