This is not a drill

My trip from Boston to Natal, Brazil, had stops in Atlanta and Rio. I had a 2 hour layover in Atlanta, so I wasn’t worried at first when my flight was delayed 1 hour, but soon an announcement was made that the delay would last an additional 90 minutes, meaning I would miss my connecting flight.

Delta, go figure. There were phones stationed next to the gate for such instances, so inconvenienced customers could speak directly with Delta personnel. They told me there wouldn’t be another flight to Brazil from anywhere in the country on any airline for 3 more days.

Are you kidding me?

My sister’s wedding was about 4 days away, so I would still be able to make the wedding, but I’d miss out on everything beforehand, a crucial window in which I hoped to bond with my new family. I was on the phone with Delta people for a while and it was predictably a very frustrating process. There seemed to be no options. My flight would land in Atlanta about 30 minutes after my connecting flight was due to depart.

If only I could make them wait.

I asked of course, but I was told it was a matter of policy that international flights were never held, even for a few minutes. I figured it was time to dip into the old bag of tricks. Might as well try, you know?

Putting on my best big-boy voice, I asked to speak with a superior. I said that my sister’s wedding was being held the following evening, and if I missed my connecting flight I would miss the wedding. How would the fine folks at Delta feel if their error caused me to miss my only sister’s wedding?

I did my best to be somewhat dramatic without being too stern. If I had any shot of having strings pulled for me I needed to be someone they could root for. My tone had a hint of desperation, a smidge of despondency, while staying as judicious as possible.

The woman on the other end was sympathetic. After a bit of back and forth she pledged to do all she could to make sure I made my flight. She told me: “When you board the plane tell the flight attendants who you are and they’ll make sure you’re taken care of. We’ll do everything we can.” She also promised to put me up in a 5 star if I was stranded in Atlanta.

When I introduced myself to the flight attendants they looked as if they had been given orders for some kind of special operation (this is not a drill!). I was reseated in seat 1A, closest to the exit. An announcement from the pilot reported that the flight would be taking off 10 minutes earlier in light of “new information.” The attendants told me that the pilot himself was in contact with both air traffic control in Atlanta AND the pilot for the Rio flight. They assured me that an international flight had never been held for even a few minutes for someone on a delayed flight, but they were doing all they could.

I smiled and thanked them. I’ll admit, I did feel slightly guilty that I wasn’t being completely honest and people were bending over backwards for me. Not that guilty though.

When the flight landed I was given instructions about where to go and exactly how to get there. The airport in Atlanta is huge. I sprinted. When I got to the gate the women at the check-in counter had been waiting for me.

“Miles?!” one of them asked.

“That’s me,” I said, completely out of breathe.

“Right this way.” She led me down the ramp. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, them waiting for one person on a fully booked 747. But the pilot let us know we weren’t to close the gate before you got here. It’s not everyday your sister gets married. Enjoy the wedding, sir.”

I thanked her and boarded the plane. We began rolling away from the gate before I even sat down. I received more than one bewildered look as I walked down the aisle to my seat. Next stop, Rio!