I went to Chattanooga

I didn’t think I would ever arrive.  I decided a couple quick flights would be the easiest way to get from Greensboro to Chattanooga.  Theoretically, I was right.  A twenty-two minute flight GSO to CLT, a ninety minute flight CLT to CHA, done.

In the past four years of nonstop flying, I’ve never experienced exhorbitant delays. Maybe this explains my naievite? Let’s pretend.  (In retrospect, I’ve only been flying long haul flights — no regional jets. The difference is notable.)

After sitting on the Greensboro tarmic for ninety minutes, we gleefully finished our twenty-two minute flight without delay.  Until the plane landed. Oops. Don’t be relieved just yet! ANOTHER hour on the Charlotte tarmac and we finally had a gate, were finally off the plane, finally had the gate-checked bag in hand, were finally sprinting through the terminal.

I arrived at my gate at 10:28pm for my 10:30pm flight.  No problem, right?  The system knew I had been delayed, the computer would hold the next flight for me, the delay wouldn’t be a problem!

Alas, I am far too optimistic.

For the record, weeping with the gate agent isn’t helpful.

Weeping *again* when the gate agent tells you the next flight isn’t until the next evening?  Also not helpful.

Weepeing when the gate agent says she’s lost your bag?  Only helpful for the cathartic release.

Many tears were wept that night, especially when I had to pay for the one-way CLT-CHA car rental at midnight in an attempt to arrive on time for the scheduled engagement shoot the next morning.

But guess what?! The hotel finally found a room for me (even having a reservation isn’t helpful for an overbooked system), I eventually slept a couple hours, I made it into Tennessee, I arrived to Chattanooga JUST ON TIME.

Oh, and the engagement session?  SOme of my favorites. Ever.  Even deodarent-less, two-day-old-clothes, no-toothbrush-in-sight, sleep-deprived.

Despite the kerfuffle in arrival, though, I explored Lookout Mountain and rode the incline railroad and drank many cups of artisan brewed coffee.  And it was swell.

I think I’ll stay home a while, though.  Or drive everywhere.  Or get a private plane.  Something will work.


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