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Vincent and I are very different. He is always early. I am always late. He is very organized and likes to plan. I am messy and spontaneous—enjoy flying by the seat of my pants!
Vincent is cautious and wise and likes to plan margins for unforeseen events. He always insists on leaving early to the airport.
“You just never know. If you run into traffic or have a flat tire, you need enough time to still get to the airport and make your flight.”
He doesn’t like to be rushed and doesn’t mind waiting at the airport for three hours before our flight.
On the other hand, I hate waiting in airports—especially with children—for longer than necessary. For me, 1 1/2 hours is plenty of time to check in, get through security, and make a stop in the bathroom before boarding.
“We are going to be sitting on the airplane all day, we don’t need to sit for several extra hours at the airport beforehand,” I will often say.
What Time Should We Leave?
When deciding what time we would leave from our home in Pennsylvania to drive 5 1/2 hours to JFK International Airport, I suggested leaving at 10 or 10:30 a.m. Our flight was scheduled for 7 p.m. Vincent insisted that we leave at 9 a.m., and thankfully we did! My husband is a very wise man.
We were making good timing with our friends and enjoying the fun ride to New York City. With so many people in tow, we made multiple pit stops for potty breaks, gas, snacks, and lunch. We were on schedule to arrive at the airport at 4 p.m.—three hours early. Just right for Vincent’s taste!
We didn’t anticipate any traffic on a Saturday afternoon.
After lunch, the GPS began to change our estimated time of arrival . . . 4:20, 4:40, 4:50 . . . I could sense that Vincent was getting nervous.
There appeared to be a car accident on the parkway between New Jersey and New York. Our GPS offered an alternate route, saving us 20 minutes. We took the risk and exited the parkway.
The Scenic Route
We soon found ourselves crawling along slow-moving traffic in the middle of the Jewish quarter and Chinatown. It was certainly the scenic route—watching Jewish families wearing traditional apparel and kippahs, heading to the synagogues, and Asian restaurant employees slamming large whole frozen fish on the sidewalk. We had no idea what they were doing, but it was certainly entertaining us in the stand-still line of cars. We were in the multi-cultural heart of New York City!
All of us watched the GPS with a bit of anxiety and trepidation.
The airline had recommended that we arrive early at the airport for check-in because of our checked-in pet and our 12 pieces of luggage. We would perhaps arrive two hours in advance, but three hours was no longer possible.
We pulled up at the airport curb at 4:50 p.m. and flagged a bell cap to bring a large cart for all of our bags. Two bell caps came running, and we needed both of them.
After quickly hugging and saying tearful goodbyes to our dear friends next to the van, we ran into the airport with the two bell caps. Would we make it?!
Waiting Impatiently
The line was long, and I asked the agent if we could please be moved to the front of the line. Our plane was leaving in two hours, and we had a checked pet. She reassured us that we had plenty of time.
After waiting over 30 minutes, I patiently (rather, impatiently) asked the agent again. She moved us to another line where we waited another 15 minutes. It was now 5:35 p.m.
When we walked up to the counter, the lady asked us which flight we were on.
“You are just now arriving at the airport?! With 12 suitcases and a checked pet? It’s impossible for you to make your flight! Check in closes 1 hour before departure!”
I explained to her that we had been waiting in line for over 45 minutes.
When handing her our French and American passports, she said, “I have to check to see if French people can even travel to Spain.”
Was she kidding?! I don’t think she was. This airline representative clearly didn’t know that France and Spain are both a part of European Union (EU) and the Schengen Zone. European citizens can freely travel within the zone.
No Reservation!
She took our record locator number (reservation number) and proceeded to tell us that we did not have a dog on our reservation. Bernie would not be able to travel, she told us.
“What?!” I exclaimed. “He IS in the reservation. I just spoke with an American Airlines representative on the phone two days ago to confirm everything.”
After contacting another colleague to come over for help, they finally found Bernie’s reservation. We were wasting time.
The agent began to panic and said that we only had 10 minutes to check in our 12 pieces of luggage or we could not board the plane.
“This is impossible!” she yelled at us. “Why did you arrive at the airport so late?”
I proceeded to tell her about the car accident, as well as waiting in line for over 45 minutes.
She asked for a colleague to help her check in our mountain of luggage.
Panic!
We were all in a panic.
“You will need to pay for your extra eight pieces of luggage,” she informed us.
“No,” I said. “We have a rate which includes three pieces of luggage per person.”
“It’s not in the reservation,” she said. ‘You will have to pay.”
Vincent proceeded to get out our paperwork which clearly indicated that we had three pieces of luggage per person.
“Your reservation may say three pieces of luggage per person, but that doesn’t mean that they are free!” she stated aggressively. “You needed to have this pre-approved.”
“It IS pre-approved,” I said. “I even called the airline yesterday to confirm our luggage allotment and to add Pierre’s child’s meal.”
At this point, I was about to lose it! I was angry, frustrated, freaked out, and everything else.
“Stay calm,” Vincent said.
I knew that he was right. This lady had our family’s travel fate in her hands. I had to remain kind, gracious, and respectful—even if I was boiling inside!
They made several calls to confirm that we indeed had an approved rate which allowed for three FREE pieces of luggage per person.
I was in tears by now.
Let’s Go!
“Let’s go!” she yelled at us. “Check in is closing! You aren’t going to make your flight!”
Oh, that’s reassuring. We quickly threw our suitcases, one by one, on the luggage scale, and she tagged them. She didn’t even glance at the weight of our slightly overweight bags. Whew! That was a blessing! She had already told us that any overweight suitcase would cost us a whopping $100. If they were all overweight, even slightly, that could potentially cost us $1200!
They looked at our endorsed USDA paperwork for Bernie, and we paid our $200 pet fees. They handed us our passports, boarding passes, and luggage claim tickets.
We hugged Bernie goodbye and prayed the he would make it on the plane with us (and survive the flight!), put him in the kennel, locked it up with cable ties, and handed our beloved furry friend over to a complete stranger. Would we ever be able to find him on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean in that airport in Spain?
You Have to Run!
The agent came out from behind the counter and said, “You have to run through security! You aren’t going to make your flight! They will not hold that plane for you!”
This traveling experience just keeps getting better.
She escorted us to the front of the security line.
“You have to rush this family through. They are going to miss their flight!” she told the security agent.
We frantically pulled out all of our electronics and liquids . . . well, most of our electronics. We managed to forget two game consoles and two kindles, so one carry-on suitcase had to go through the security camera FOUR times.
Don’t try to save time by not pulling out your liquids and electronics. It only slows you down more, because the security agents won’t miss it!
“How is it possible that we have that many electronic devices,” I thought to myself.
With another 15-minute delay at the security check, we finally gathered all of our carry-on suitcases, backpacks, etc. and sprinted to gate #12.
First Class Please?
We entered the plane, only to discover that there was no more overhead space for all of our bags. The airline hostess helped us find some room in the first-class area.
“Could we please be transferred to first-class?” I asked her nonchalantly, with a grin.
She smiled and then escorted me back to our seats in row 30 of economy. Yes, the ones with no leg room and no glass of champagne.
It didn’t matter at that point. We made it—a true miracle! We were all safely on the airplane. Our 12 overweight bags (that had not been weighed) were loaded in the aircraft. Hopefully, Bernie was in the cargo area underneath us.
Now, I just had to sit back, enjoy a last ice cold Dr. Pepper before I officially left American soil, watch a few good movies, and arrive in the “Land of Unknown”!
Ready or not, here we come!
—The Cultural Story-Weaver
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Let’s Weave Cultures!
Do you typically leave extra early to the airport in order to have plenty of time for unexpected circumstances? Or do you typically give yourself just enough time to check in, get through security, and run to your gate—not wanting to spend anymore time at the airport than absolutely necessary.
Have you ever traveled with your furry friend to the other side of the world? Was it a smooth process or a chaotic nightmare?
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures!” Write about them in the comment box below.
