Ruth and I arrived at the “this is where people go when all hell breaks loose desk” about ninety seconds behind Brady. There were three service agents at the counter tending to three customers. Brady was number two in the “wait line” and there were at least a dozen people behind him. There were several dozen more gaining ground on Ruth and me.
I had Ruth watch our bags (thank goodness we only had carry-ons), and I ducked under the rope to join Brady. Speed pays.
As we waited our turn, I received another text. (No kiddin)
12:22 We’re sorry we had to change your travel plans, so your hotel tonight is on us. See your options below.
We had three. I booked a Hilton that was about eight minutes from the airport. I had the room before we moved up to the “all hell breaks loose desk”.
12:43 You’re all set with your hotel stay for tonight. View your confirmation ….
The text included six $20.00 QR code meal vouchers.
Lindsay and I were exchanging texts throughout the delay process. She found a flight for us on Southwest that would leave in the morning at 5:30 and get us into Grand Rapids by 10:30. Right after I received that notification, the lady at the “all hell breaks loose desk” said, “How may I help you?”
Under most circumstances I might have offered some off-the-cuff, inappropriate, witty reply, but I didn’t. We needed help and she was asking to do just that.
“How quickly can we get to Grand Rapids? My grandson is supposed to leave for camp at 5:00 in the morning.”
Her fingers danced across the terminal keys and the race was on. Not only was she helping me, she was racing the other two customer service agents that were helping the over one hundred and twenty other stranded passengers. We were all trying to get to Grand Rapids and it was first come – first serve.
She offered up two quick options. Both left between 9:00 and 10:00 the next morning. One took us through Atlanta and the other through Denver. Both arrived in Grand Rapids after 11:00 pm. “Neither of those will work. What about this Southwest flight that my daughter-in-law found that leaves at 5:30?”
“I’m sorry but we don’t have an agreement with Southwest. Are there other connecting cities that might be better?” Now she was asking me for help.
“We flew down on Delta through Detroit. Do they have a flight back?”
Her fingers started dancing again. “I can get you out at 9:00 a.m. with an hour layover in Detroit. You’ll arrive in Grand Rapids at 3:00 pm.”
“I’ll take it.”
She started typing again and, after overcoming several potential stumbling blocks, we had our flight.
She gave us our travel vouchers and told us that we would have to check in with Delta in the morning to get our tickets. She directed us to the exit that would provide access to the hotel shuttle service. As we started walking a man in a limo-type golf cart offered us a ride, and we took it. We rode for what seemed like an eternity to the hotel shuttle site.
There were six other Grand Rapids bound travelers waiting as well. All were heading to different hotels. We compared our new travel plans as we waited. One family of four had booked a flight through Detroit leaving at 7:00 a.m. that arrived in Grand Rapids at 1:00. The mother in the group needed to get back for a chemo treatment. When I heard that, Brady’s camp didn’t seem as urgent.
We boarded the Hilton shuttle, arrived at the hotel, and went to bed at 2:00. I set my alarm for 5:45 so we could catch a 6:30 shuttle back to the airport.
The return trip to the airport was uneventful. We got up early and made our way to the Delta check-in. We downloaded our boarding passes and proceeded through the pre-checked line to airport security. I have metal in my knee and always go through the full body scanner. Brady and Ruth stepped through the magic metal screening doorway. Our bags went through the baggage scanner, and Brady’s bag needed to be personally inspected.
The security personnel found two eighteen inch mini-bats. Brady brought a Chicago bat that we purchased two years ago hoping to get it autographed by a Chicago player while we were in town, and he purchased a new Houston mini-bat at Sunday’s game. The Chicago bat made it through security in Grand Rapids and both bats made it through security the night before. Now, all of a sudden, we had a problem.
“You can’t take these on the plane. They are a restricted item.”
After much discussion, we abandoned the bats. We could have repacked our bags, taken one back to where we started the morning, paid $40.00 to check it, gone through the security process again, or we could leave them. We left them and headed to get breakfast with our QR code vouchers.
As we ordered breakfast I showed our server the vouchers on my phone. “Oh, we can’t take those. We have to have paper vouchers.”
#$%@#$$
I had reached my tipping point. The entire Houston process had exceeded my patience.
We ordered breakfast, and I got more frustrated with each bite. “Let me see the manager. I received these vouchers, here, in this airport. You have got to take them. If you can confiscate mini-bats, you can process your own vouchers.”
After much consternation they took, and I redeemed, the vouchers. They didn’t have scanning capabilities but they did allow me to enter the number for each voucher into their system. (I achieved a minor victory.)
With that victory in hand, I walked back to the security line and asked to speak with the guy who confiscated the mini-bats. I asked him for a copy of the regulation that forbade the transportation of mini-bats on an airplane. He said, “The regulation forbids ALL types of bats.”
“Ok, but I’d like to see a copy of the rule.”
A female voice offered up, “They are available on our website.” (I hate it when I am speaking with one person and a second chimes in. It’s number one on the list of things that piss me off.)
“Look, I’m not trying to cause a problem, but none of this makes any sense. We brought both bats through security last night without a problem and now we can’t take them on the airplane.”
A third voice, a male this time, offered up, “Well we’re just better at our jobs than the night guys.” (I really, really hate it when I am speaking with one person and a third chimes in. It’s on the tippy-tippy top of the list of things that piss me off.)
#$%@#$$
I walked away a defeated man and waited for our flight. While we were waiting, Brady 
reached into his bag (The same bag that had the two mini-bats.) and pulled out a piece of physical therapy equipment. He showed it to me and said, “I don’t get it. How can this be OK and my mini-bats aren’t.”
“Holy #$%@#$$. I don’t know. The security guy must have needed a birthday present for his son.”
During breaks in the turmoil we reflected upon our time together. We talked about where we might go on next year’s trip. Denver, Minneapolis and Toronto were discussed.
About an hour later we boarded our plane. We landed in Detroit and waited for another hour for our final flight. The flight to Grand Rapids was over almost before it began.
David met us in Grand Rapids at 3:00, gave each of us a hug, took Brady on a four and a half hour car ride to camp, dropped him off, and drove another four and a half hours home. That’s “father of the year” noteworthy.
Ruth and I always have a good time with the kids and enjoy spending time with them. We love them both, but agree that one on one time is the best because we get time to know each of them better. We like what we see.
I’m not sure where our next trip might take us, but I’m sure it won’t be Houston.
And directly from TSA’s website please note the following:
Baseball Bats
Carry On Bags: No
Checked Bags: Yes
Sports equipment that can be used as a bludgeon (such as bats and clubs) is prohibited in the cabin of the plane and must be transported in your checked baggage.
One final note.
TSA personnel have the final say in all such matters.
Enough to drive you batty!
That’s enough to drive you batty!