Trip to Denver? No way
“…and may all your Christmases be white.”.....
Maybe yours, not mine, thank goodness—although this time it was a close call for me and Carole Lee.
We were all set to surprise daughter and her family by dropping in on them for Christmas. Just one problem: They live in Denver.
You know what happened there. Tons of snow before and after Christmas, with the first blizzard hitting the night before we were to depart Dulles on United for Denver.
Many travelers got to Colorado shortly before we could and found themselves stranded for days at the airport.
Regardless, we felt lousy, sitting in a motel at Dulles mulling over that canceled flight. All packed and ready to go, and then facing the gloomy prospect of returning alone to our Stafford home sans even a Christmas tree, which I happily had left in the basement anticipating our being in Denver.
Then surprise! Southwest Airlines flew to the rescue. Our improvised Plan B for the holidays let us fly, not to Denver but to visit Chicago’s many relatives of Carole Lee.
And everything turned out right. Well, almost. The Denver wing of our family, while disappointed in not seeing us, stayed busy trying to dig out from the blizzards. And good old United gave us credit for the canceled flights if we fly again with them.
Our surprised Chicago hosts were also surprisingly welcoming. As usual they had plenty to share, especially the home-made cookies so delishiously in abundance.
Looking back on the whole escapade, I’m still in wonderment that Southwest still had two seats left on its Chicago flight from Dulles, on the same day we needed them. Then too, I only had to write down the reservation number I heard over the phone and head to the airport. The electronic ticketing worked slick as a whistle. And the tickets weren’t very expensive.
All that said, Southwest was no bed of roses. For one thing, the newcomer service’s gates at Dulles were at the far, far end of Concourse B, making us load up virtually in West Virginia.
The trek seems all the longer when one is lugging too many carry-ons plus pushing the wife in the wheel chair. My many workouts in the past months at the gym eased the chore, but not much.
Then upon arrival at Chicago’s Midway airport--a most convenient and accommodating facility--a bit of a problem arose. Southwest forgot to bring along our wheel chair. It turned out to be a short-term distress, though, since we got a loaner quickly for our stay in Chicago and got our own back before returning home.
Now let me let you in on a secret. A wheel chair, although a necessary evil for its occupant and propellant, does make air travel easier. It enabled us to go to the head of the long security waiting lines, saving valuable time and stressfulness. Also, we got pre-boarding privileges at the Southwest gate, enabling us to occupy bulkhead seats up front, affording ample leg room.
We also were lucky in getting a motel for our stay near the relatives. I had sought a large room with all the niceties, since we’d be there a week. A place we’d stayed the previous visit had none this time, and recommended instead a nearby Wingate.
Sound familiar? It’s a virtually identical copy of the new one in Garrisonville and Stafford’s first Wingate Inn, on Warrenton Road. Good places.
A highlight of our trip, besides the cookies and nice digs, was joining with John and JoAnn (Carole Lee’s sister) in celebrating Christmas Eve gift-giving with their six little grandkids.
Although the affair lasted too long, all the youngsters were miraculously well-behaved. Remarkable. And fun to play with. I taught one the hand-slapping game, belatedly realizing that his reflexes quickly became much quicker than my own. I hadn’t realized fully how much mine had slowed. Good lesson.
I pledged then and there to be more careful in doing things like driving the car. Speaking of which…
Arriving back at Dulles and riding the parking-lot bus to pick up my car, I suddenly remembered leaving my car keys in a bag still sitting on my wife’s lap back in the airport. A moment of consternation ensued before my lightning-fast reflexes swung into play, remembering that I had left a spare key in the car. Then came a further moment of worry before I made sure I remembered the combination to unlock the door via the keypad on the handle. Everything worked out OK.
So all in all, this very un-white Christmas season for us turned out to be memorable.
Maybe yours, not mine, thank goodness—although this time it was a close call for me and Carole Lee.
We were all set to surprise daughter and her family by dropping in on them for Christmas. Just one problem: They live in Denver.
You know what happened there. Tons of snow before and after Christmas, with the first blizzard hitting the night before we were to depart Dulles on United for Denver.
Many travelers got to Colorado shortly before we could and found themselves stranded for days at the airport.
Regardless, we felt lousy, sitting in a motel at Dulles mulling over that canceled flight. All packed and ready to go, and then facing the gloomy prospect of returning alone to our Stafford home sans even a Christmas tree, which I happily had left in the basement anticipating our being in Denver.
Then surprise! Southwest Airlines flew to the rescue. Our improvised Plan B for the holidays let us fly, not to Denver but to visit Chicago’s many relatives of Carole Lee.
And everything turned out right. Well, almost. The Denver wing of our family, while disappointed in not seeing us, stayed busy trying to dig out from the blizzards. And good old United gave us credit for the canceled flights if we fly again with them.
Our surprised Chicago hosts were also surprisingly welcoming. As usual they had plenty to share, especially the home-made cookies so delishiously in abundance.
Looking back on the whole escapade, I’m still in wonderment that Southwest still had two seats left on its Chicago flight from Dulles, on the same day we needed them. Then too, I only had to write down the reservation number I heard over the phone and head to the airport. The electronic ticketing worked slick as a whistle. And the tickets weren’t very expensive.
All that said, Southwest was no bed of roses. For one thing, the newcomer service’s gates at Dulles were at the far, far end of Concourse B, making us load up virtually in West Virginia.
The trek seems all the longer when one is lugging too many carry-ons plus pushing the wife in the wheel chair. My many workouts in the past months at the gym eased the chore, but not much.
Then upon arrival at Chicago’s Midway airport--a most convenient and accommodating facility--a bit of a problem arose. Southwest forgot to bring along our wheel chair. It turned out to be a short-term distress, though, since we got a loaner quickly for our stay in Chicago and got our own back before returning home.
Now let me let you in on a secret. A wheel chair, although a necessary evil for its occupant and propellant, does make air travel easier. It enabled us to go to the head of the long security waiting lines, saving valuable time and stressfulness. Also, we got pre-boarding privileges at the Southwest gate, enabling us to occupy bulkhead seats up front, affording ample leg room.
We also were lucky in getting a motel for our stay near the relatives. I had sought a large room with all the niceties, since we’d be there a week. A place we’d stayed the previous visit had none this time, and recommended instead a nearby Wingate.
Sound familiar? It’s a virtually identical copy of the new one in Garrisonville and Stafford’s first Wingate Inn, on Warrenton Road. Good places.
A highlight of our trip, besides the cookies and nice digs, was joining with John and JoAnn (Carole Lee’s sister) in celebrating Christmas Eve gift-giving with their six little grandkids.
Although the affair lasted too long, all the youngsters were miraculously well-behaved. Remarkable. And fun to play with. I taught one the hand-slapping game, belatedly realizing that his reflexes quickly became much quicker than my own. I hadn’t realized fully how much mine had slowed. Good lesson.
I pledged then and there to be more careful in doing things like driving the car. Speaking of which…
Arriving back at Dulles and riding the parking-lot bus to pick up my car, I suddenly remembered leaving my car keys in a bag still sitting on my wife’s lap back in the airport. A moment of consternation ensued before my lightning-fast reflexes swung into play, remembering that I had left a spare key in the car. Then came a further moment of worry before I made sure I remembered the combination to unlock the door via the keypad on the handle. Everything worked out OK.
So all in all, this very un-white Christmas season for us turned out to be memorable.
posted by Ben Blankenship at
9:58 AM
