Jet Blue Gets Iced

I read an AP article on the AOL news site where some Jet Blue passengers were forced to remain on the tarmac for up to eleven hours due to winter storm conditions in New York.
“. . . the jam arose as the airline sent outbound flights to the runway - so they could leave immediately if the weather let up - while incoming flights filled up the gates. The problem grew as some equipment used to tow planes away from gates froze to the ground, he said.” (Link provided in title bar)

The thought of having to remain on a stuffy airplane for hours waiting for a chance to either take off or exit the aircraft is an unpleasant thought at best; however, the need to recognize that even in our age of technology, the forces of nature can still find a way to put us in our place. I’d rather be sitting on the ground while the weather pours out her furies than up in the air wishing I were on the ground.

Several years ago I was on my way home to Houston and had a lay over in Atlanta, one that lasted a couple of extra hours. The airplane I was waiting for had been delayed by bad weather on its way from Houston, one of those flights that goes back and forth and must thrill the pilot no end, kind of a human ping pong ball with stripes on his sleeve. Most of the passengers who got off in Atlanta had a pale green pallor; not a good sign, as they hugged and kissed the ground. I might be exaggerating some; suffice to say they were happy to be alive.

It never occurred to me that that same weather system would be crossed on the way back to Houston, no, not once did I think about such a prospect as I took my seat in the back of the plane. I don’t fly all that often, maybe a couple of times a year and that’s more than I would prefer except that it makes it possible to travel great distances in a relatively short period of time. I’m able to force myself during the unpleasantness of flight through small tricks, playing music in my head as a distraction helps to some extent.

Half way to Houston, long after the sun had gone down, the turbulence began to toss the airplane around; not just little dips and throws, this was more like a big roller coaster, the one I never rode after carefully analyzing the odds of heart failure. In between the groans which escaped the shadows from elsewhere in the plane came the special effects part of the show as lightning illuminated the cabin creating a horror film of kaleidoscopic extremes. Several of my fellow passengers lost the ability to control their bodily functions, opting to force the contents of previously held meals into the limited confines of the remaining barf bags; many of which had been used up on the flight before ours.

There is a point at which even the most experienced traveler desires to be on the ground, that issue becomes a bit disconcerting when the pilot joins those ranks and feels compelled to turn the plane around. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather conditions in the Houston area which are out of our control we are forced to turn back at this time.” He went on to explain that we would land in New Orleans and wait for a break in the weather. I can only guess; but it seemed that we had been bucking the storm for upwards of two hours and I had to wonder how Lucy was, seeing as how she was supposed to have picked me up several hours earlier.

We got to that point where the flight attendant tells everyone to put their seat backs in the upright position, make sure the tray tables are secured, “We’ll be landing in New Orleans momentarily.” I think most of the passengers had assumed crash position, sort of bent over with their heads tucked low; all that is except one passenger who had managed to sleep through the entire flight.

“New Orleans?” She let out as her ears took in the words, “I got on the wrong airplane!”, her panicked voice repeating her alarm a couple of times in the darkness of the cabin; the wheels made that wonderful sound as they hit the runway below. It was a tonic the rest of us needed as we broke into laughter and forgot all about the flight from hell we’d all been put through. I’m not exaggerating at all; suffice to say we were happy to be alive.

We all got off, stood around the empty New Orleans airport while a special crew came in to clean up and deodorize the cabin. A couple of hours later we managed to limp into Houston, the weather system which had spawned tornadoes around IAH had worn out its welcome and moved on. Lucy had arrived at the airport just as the storm hit and had waited the entire time there in her car protected by the multi level parking garage.

It never occurred to me that the airline owed me anything for having kept me aloft all that extra time, for the delay in New Orleans or the nasty on board experience. I figured that kind of went with the territory. Maybe those folks in New York had a bad time of it, all that snow and ice keeping them pinned down and having to wait on a stuffy airplane. Maybe the airline could have figured out a way to make things happen, maybe not; after all it was a really nasty storm. I’m a little old fashioned and think they should have said “Thank you for keeping us safe and giving us a chance to fly a little later, to live another day.”; but that’s just my opinion.