This sucked! This sucked! This sucked!
It looked like I still had the worst luck with flying. Now I knew I wouldn’t make my connection, but luckily, AA rebooked me on the 1:44 flight in Charlotte and an 11:40 flight on the plane I had just disembarked from.
So, there I was, working in my workbook, trying to keep my mind from exploding like shrapnel from a cannon. I sat away from other people so I wouldn’t get sensory overload. Occasionally, I looked up and watched the line of people trying to rebook. I didn’t have the guts to face the gate agent head-on, so I just waited and hoped for the best.
When I checked my phone again, I saw that the Charlotte flight had been delayed to 2:35. Okay, that sucked, too, but at least it gave me more time to run from Gate E to Gate A.
And that was when I saw it.
My eyes moved to the board above B12, widening when it now read New Departure Time: 4:00. You’re kidding, right? Was I even going to get to Maine that day? Would Dad get his money back? What the heck, American Airlines? Why couldn’t they merely get another airplane?
Instantly, I got up and called Dad. “Dad, are you able to get your money back?” was the first thing I asked, still trying to avoid that line. “It now says that it’s delayed to 4:00, and I don’t know if there’s another flight to Charlotte today out of Charleston.”
“What the heck, Vika?” Dad’s booming voice bellowed on the other line, frustration slipping off his tongue. “Okay, this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to march up to those agents and ask them if there is any way you’ll make it today.”
March up—? But what if I got overwhelmed? I couldn’t look people in the face without my anxiety spinning like a dreidel.
I gulped and answered, “But I don’t want to get trapped in Charlotte. At least I have my car here.”
Dad lowered his voice. “You can do it, Vika. You’re an expert at things like this now.” Meaning my rotten luck with flying. “Just try, and keep us posted.”
I paused, then said, “Okay,” and hung up. My phone was at 50%, so I shut it off to save energy, grabbed my backpack and carry-on, and got in line behind a man with black hair wearing business attire. I occasionally looked at the next gate over and saw an agent helping a couple, and another one close behind them, but they were the only ones in that line. As for me, I was stuck behind eight other people, and the agents were taking their sweet time.
My eyes began to roam, landing on the board with the Arrival and Departure times. Wait a minute. Was that what I thought it was? Holy llama ma gosh, it was! There was one more flight to Charlotte that day at 12:15. I couldn’t believe my luck. Maybe it was a good thing that I was neurodivergent after all; I was able to catch small details from afar. It would still be tight, but if I could make it on that 12:15 flight…
Within seconds, my phone’s back in my hand, and I’m talking to Dad. “Dad, it looks like there’s one more flight to Charlotte at 12:15. The flight in Charlotte got delayed to 2:35, so if I could just get on the 12:15…” My voice trailed off.
“Good job, Vika!” Dad said. “See if you can get on that one.”
“The only problem, Dad, is that there are eight people in front of me, and the agents are spending at least twenty minutes with each person.” It was almost 11:30 now.
I lowered my phone, cutting off my father’s voice when the man before me cleared his throat. “Young lady”—he gestured at the next gate over with only one couple in line now— “it looks like they’re rebooking people. You may want to try them. I’ll save your spot.”
Really? What a guy. I thought that was what was happening, but I had still stopped myself from approaching that gate… until now.
After telling Dad my plan, I hung up, took a breath, and approached the new gate, facing the agent to the right: a tall man with brown skin, black hair, and a small goatee. A woman stood beside him, working with the couple.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said, trying to mask my stutter and showing him my boarding pass. “I was supposed to board the 8:20 flight to Charlotte, but one of the engines broke. I just noticed on the board that there’s a 12:15 flight to Charlotte. My flight there was delayed to 2:35, so I think I can still make it. Do you think you could get me on the 12:15 flight?” Did I seriously say that out loud? Me, Catherine Victoria Christie? Was I standing up for myself? I wasn’t 100% sure yet.
“We’ll see what we can do,” replied the agent, and my shoulders relaxed. “I just need to see your ID.”
I handed it to him.
For the next few minutes, the agent typed on his computer, the clicking of his fingers making me stim again. It felt like an eternity before he finally said, “It looks like there’s one seat left.”
One seat! One seat! My eyes rolled over to the couple.
“Take it,” said the woman, clutching her partner’s arm. “We don’t want to be separated.”
Holy guacamole! What in the name of—? What the heck? OMG!
The agent handed me my ID and a new boarding pass.
I nearly dropped to my knees to worship him. “Thank you so much! You guys are lifesavers!” And to think that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t noticed that small detail and the man before me hadn’t pointed me in that direction.
Maybe I would get to Maine after all.
ns216.73.217.93da2
and then Add to home screen.