Chapter 16 - Saga of Three Airports

According to Boy: It had been a perfectly wonderful Christmas visit. The year was 1969. It was our second Christmas together. For our first Christmas, we did not have enough money to even attempt to fly home for the holidays. But by year two, we were financially ready for the adventure.

The New York to Grand Rapids leg of the trip was uneventful. We had managed to tranquilize Mister (our Norwegian Elkhound) adequately, so he was mellowed out for the trip. (I would like to note here that Evie and I later learned just how detrimental flying is to the well being of a pet. I apologize for it, and I would never do it again. Nevertheless, it is still a story worth telling.)

We arrived at LaGuardia in plenty of time, checked in our luggage, and delivered Mister to the kennel area. Everything went smoothly. United Airlines deposited all three of us safely at our destination. When we went to pick up Mister, he seemed fine. I doubt that he slept, but he seemed to have handled the flight quite well. And, all of our luggage made it.

The trip home, however, was to be a different story.

Again, we arrived on time. Again, we had tranquilized Mister appropriately. All, to that point, had gone as planned. We got Mister on the plane, and we even boarded our United Airlines return flight. But, after our plane taxied off the tarmac and out to the runway, it just sat there for what seemed an eternity. At first, we thought it normal. "They’re just being careful," we rationalized.

After forty-five minutes or so, a voice came over the intercom that our plane was having some issues, and we were going to go back to the terminal. That was a bad sign.

So, we taxied back and got off. GRR (Grand Rapids Airport) was small, by most standards. So it only took us a couple minutes to go back to the United Airlines counter and try to make other arrangements. They had no idea just what the problem was, or how long it might take to rectify it. Evie and I both had to get back to New York, she for work the next morning, I for classes.

United Airlines informed us that while they had no more flights out that evening, they could squeeze us onto a flight operated by XYZ airline. The only problem—that plane was already boarding, so we would have to rush to the other end of the airport if we were going to make it.

With no bags to carry, we ran all the way to the gate, and joyfully trotted onto the plane. We felt totally victorious. In fact, we felt more than totally victorious. The only seats left on this flight were in first class. The closest we had ever been to first class was walking through it to coach, and we had done that quite a few times. (I don’t know why they always seat first class passengers in the front of the plane. It must be so the rest of us plebes can bonk them around with our carry-on luggage. Besides, everyone knows the safest seats are in the rear.)

There we were, in first class for the very first time. And, even though we were sort of usurpers, we still received all the accoutrements of the privileged ones, including free cocktails.

I think we each had a couple drinks before we came to the realization that this plane was flying into Newark, rather than into LaGuardia. When we heard that, we looked at each other, and shrugged it off. "It only means that it will take us an additional hour to get home," we thought. "Oh well." We settled back and enjoyed the trip.

After landing and deplaning in Newark, I went to get Mister, while Evie waited for the luggage. Both of us were disappointed. Apparently neither our luggage nor our Mister had been loaded on our plane. Saddest of all, no one at United or XYZ could offer us any help. When we transferred from United, the attendant did not transfer, or return, our baggage claim tickets (which were stapled to our original ticket); the lost documentation also included proof that we had a pet traveling with us. We had no evidence of anything except our ticket stubs from XYZ.

We were much too tired to argue. Their advice was to come back in the morning—which looked to me like a classic case of the "bum’s rush." It was obvious that they were just trying to get rid of us, and we were much too tired to fight back. So home we went.

The next morning, bright and early, we got up and planned our mode of attack. We decided it was important that Evie get to work on time, while I would I skip my classes and deal with retrieving our belongings, and our precious Mister.

I called Newark, both United and XYZ. No one had any advice for me. I called the airport administrator, public relations, security, etc. No one knew anything.

Finally it occurred to me that because our original United flight was scheduled to arrive at LaGuardia, perhaps our luggage and Mister might have somehow arrived at that airport. On a whim, I called LaGuardia. They also knew nothing.

I called United again. This time they informed me that they did show that our luggage and our dog arrived at LaGuardia. "Wonderful!" I yelled, "I’ll be right there." Apparently the original United flight finally did get off the ground.

I hopped on public transportation and headed to LaGuardia. It was still fairly early in the morning. I had started thinking that everything might just turn out okay after all, but I quickly realized that this sentiment was altogether too optimistic.

When I arrived at LaGuardia, I went directly to the United ticket window. They could not help me. They sent me to the baggage claim area. I described to them what our three suitcases looked like, and after about ten minutes they came back shrugging their collective shoulders—they could not help me.

I asked them if they would mind checking again, because I had earlier talked to someone from United who stated that our luggage had arrived, and was waiting for me. The worker was not altogether inattentive. He raised his eyebrows, turned and walked through the swinging doors that led to a general storage area. As he did, I caught a glimpse of our three brown suitcases, all setting together. I said nothing. I just hopped over a pass-through, and followed him.

"You can’t come back here," he shouted, holding up his hands to stop me.

"Those are my cases, right there. Check the name on them."

Apparently they had been removed from Baggage Claim, and just set aside. Lucky for me, because I did not have any baggage claim tags. So I just walked up and grabbed them.

Next I had to find Mister.

I got a cart of some sort, and returned to the baggage handler area. I explained to them that I found my own luggage, no thanks to them, and that now I wanted my dog. It seemed obvious to me that if my luggage came in on United, so did Mister.

At this point, they started taking me a little more seriously. Finally, after talking to about a half dozen baggage personnel, they were able to find some paperwork on a dog that had come in on that flight (the same flight as had my luggage). "Great!" I exclaimed. "That would be Mister. Now where is he?"

They informed me the dog that was on that United flight was reported injured, and was transported to the kennel at Kennedy.

Apparently they did not have a kennel at LaGuardia, so their only option was to declare Mister "injured," and take him to Kennedy.

At that point I started to get very frustrated. I knew that no one was going to help me if I got mad, so I made every effort to remain civil.

I got our three pieces of luggage together and hailed a cab to Kennedy.

You have to understand that while LaGuardia and Kennedy are technically in the same city, they are not close neighbors. LaGuardia is in Queens, not far from Manhattan, while Kennedy is way out on Long Island. It took me two and a half "forevers" (and a lot of money) to get to Kennedy.

Once there, I had the cab drop me off at the main terminal. That was just another mistake in my lengthy list of mistakes that day.

I lugged my three suitcases into the airport, and found the baggage claim. There I learned that the kennel was a very long way from the main terminal. So far away, it was not even on the terminal map. They did help me with a handwritten map, which I proceeded to give to a second cab driver. Begrudgingly, he agreed to take me and my bags out to the kennel, following my little handwritten map.

Once there, he informed me that he could not wait for me. "I’ll be just a few moments," I pleaded, but to no avail. He wanted his money right then, and I complied. After all, he had been willing to follow my map all the way out to the kennel. That would never happen today.

He told me that I could "call another cab, no problem."

I paid and tipped him, grabbed my three bags, and made my way into the kennel area. By that time it was mid-afternoon, and I was running on vapors.

I walked over to the counter, set my bags down, and mustered up my last ounce of patience. "I understand you have my dog. We got separated when our flight was cancelled, and we ended up on XYZ."

 

My assumption was that they would all have a good laugh, and then go back and bring Mister out to me.

They did inform me that Mister had not been injured, as first reported. Apparently the only recourse LaGuardia had to deal with pets was to declare an animal injured, and check it into the Kennedy kennel. That was good news!

But, they did have some bad news for me as well. They told me that without my United baggage claim ticket for Mister they would not release him to me. I asked to talk to a supervisor. I received the same report from him.

I am not proud of it, but I flipped out. I was functioning on about two hours of real sleep. I had been given the run-around at three airports, with very little help from anyone. I was exhausted.

I stood there for a couple moments, picked up a pale green cast iron scotch tape holder, and said to the smug-faced supervisor: "Look, you bastard. You’ve got my dog. You know he’s my dog. You get your ass back there and bring him out here right now. Do you understand me?"

He promptly called security.

A very nice, and extremely large man in uniform, sauntered over to me. "What’s the problem here?"

By that time I had placed the scotch tape holder back on the desk. I explained to him my entire ordeal. Bless the man, he was a dog lover.

He turned to the supervisor. "You got this man’s dog?"

"Yes, but he doesn’t have the claim ticket," the supervisor replied.

"Go back there and get his dog." He waited just a couple seconds, then continued, "To hell with ’em. Come with me."

The two of us walked right past the supervisor, and headed back to

the source of the barking.

We immediately found Mister. "I think he’s happy to see you," the security officer said. He grabbed a leash off the wall, and said, "put this on him, and let’s get outta here. I hate this place. You should re-think puttin’ your dog on a plane. It’s not good for him."

"You’re right. I wouldn’t do it again."

On the way out I stopped to get my suitcases, which I had set just outside the kennel door.

"These yours?" the security officer asked.

"Yeah."

"Here, let me help you."

When we got outside, I realized that my cab had taken off.

"You gonna be okay now?" The security officer asked. "You’re not gonna be violent or anything, are you?"

"No, sir," I replied. "But my cab didn’t wait for me. Think you could get me a cab?"

Of course, that was not his job—he was a security officer, summoning cabs did not fall under his job description. But this guy was terrific. "Sure, he said." He walked back in the kennel and told the supervisor: "Call this man a cab."

Probably ten minutes later a cab pulled up outside, and this misadventure started to draw to a close. I took one last glance back inside the kennel as I got in the cab. At least half a dozen personnel of various types stood there watching me. I smiled as big I knew how, and waved. No one waved back.

Whenever I think back about my behavior that day, I feel very fortunate that I did not come out of it with a criminal record. I don’t think I have ever acted so foolishly since that day.