I've been out of Spain for several weeks, off to Washington, DC to participate in the annual conference of the American Library Association, and then on to Cincinnati for family visits and taking care of the many little things necessary to maintaining a bit of my life in the U.S. while I live in Spain: banking, driver's license, IRS, retirement funds, and renewing my acquaintance with American television, culture, politics, and shopping.
Since I had flown directly to DC for the conference (directly, that is, from Alicante to Madrid to JFK to National/Reagan airport), I was going to reverse that itinerary going back. We drove from Cincinnati to Washington in ten hours on Wednesday, through some beautiful countryside over the top of Maryland, and spent the night pleasantly visiting with more family in Silver Spring. Thursday noon we set off for Reagan National Airport to drop me off, while the others continued on for an excursion to the Spy Museum.
I was glad that I had observed the "three hours in advance" arrival time for international flights, even though the first leg of my journey was only a short hop to JFK in New York. When I entered the terminal, there were lines snaking around the entire floor at American Airlines. Not a square foot was vacant, and I couldn't even see where I was supposed to check in. But the person in front of me assured me that I was in the line to check in for American. Although I had confirmed all three flights the previous day and had seat assignments, I had been unable to print boarding passes due to the complications of my itinerary, with its cooperating airlines but non-cooperating websites.
Terminals B and C at Reagan were experiencing a power outage--the third such outage this year, I learned much later after I was home. What happens when an air terminal doesn't have power? Not much of anything except the accumulation of long lines of people and baggage. The automatic boarding pass kiosks don't work; desk attendants cannot check you in; baggage tickets cannot be printed; baggage can´t be scanned; you can't go through security machines; and even many shops and restaurants are closed. The public address system did seem to work and so, thank goodness, did some air conditioning. Numerous times the PA system carried an announcement about the temporary nature of this disruption and "thanks for your continued cooperation." Numerous times human attendants came through the line and called the few flights that were getting out--I don't know how. They also advised people that they could check in on their cell phones--not laptops, but cell phones. Several people around me took advantage of this ability, but clearly they were not the ones who were embarking on transcontinental journeys and who had baggage to check.
Surprisingly it took only an hour and a half for me to reach the front of my lines and get checked in. I left my two bags with a prayer in a tremendously backed-up pile in front of the baggage scanning station, and proceeded downstairs to the security gate. I held out my hand when an official asked if anyone was willing to carry a piece of paper to the beginning of the line--the paper was time-stamped and they were checking to see how long it would take to get through security.
Forty-five minutes later I had made it through the security scan and handed the paper to the TSA official. He was shocked at the time required to get through, but I wasn't. And even though I had just begun to realize that it was getting uncomfortably close to my boarding time, I didn't need to worry or hurry. Several flights were backed up, and mine was delayed an hour. But even with the delay I still had two hours in JFK to find my way between terminals and buy books at the Hudson Booksellers that seem to have sprung up in many airports with their buy-three-books-and-get-a-carryall-bag to tempt my carry-on limits.
The flight from New York to Madrid, now on Iberia, was accompanied by a very unhappy crying baby and no audio in the row in which I was seated. These problems did not seem serious, however, after the call for a doctor on board, which came just a few minutes before we were ready to land in Madrid. Though sympathetic, I was relieved that the aid was rushed to the back of the plane rather than the cockpit. Again, our departure from the plane was delayed while the ill person was ushered out, but I still had plenty of time to find my way through the immense Barrajas terminal 4--especially since my flight to Alicante was delayed due to "intense air traffic."
It was only delayed an hour, and in less than 45 minutes we were ready to land in Alicante. But Alicante was not ready for us, it appeared. The pilot came on the PA system to tell us that "intense air traffic" required that we fly another 15 minutes before landing. Then he courteously informed us that we had enough fuel to fly for 25 minutes.
Twenty-five minutes later, or maybe it was a half hour, we were down, thank goodness, and I had finished my last plane trip for awhile. Miraculously, when I got to the customs-controlled baggage return, so had both my suitcases. When I opened them later at home, the usual greetings from the TSA were nowhere in evidence. What with the limited electricity and all the disruption at Reagan the day before, I guess they had been too busy to inspect the contents. Somehow I was sad that no one had had the chance to sift through my eclectic collection of new clothing, over-the-counter drugs, books, clever conference freebies, and USA-only food items that I had carefully assembled until the next time.
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