This column originally appeared in The Sun Chronicle on Monday, October 6, 2014
AN INSIDE LOOK
By Bill Gouveia
If
you think only the Patriots had a terrible time in Kansas City last week, think
again. I’m pretty sure my son and I had
an even more stressful and painful experience visiting the hospitable
Mid-West. And almost all of it was my
fault.
It
was with great enthusiasm and optimism I set out early last Monday with plans
of watching my beloved Patriots battle the Chiefs. I took a very early morning flight out of
Providence to connect with my youngest son in Baltimore. Our plan was to fly on to our destination and
enjoy some time there.
But
almost immediately, things went wrong.
Or more correctly – I went wrong.
While
my son was fighting airport traffic, I was waiting at the gate – or so I
thought. Turned out I was next to the
gate, but in the wrong line. After my
son arrived, we shortly thereafter realized we were about to board a plane
headed to Florida. We dashed across the
aisle to try and make our intended flight.
However,
it had been overbooked. When we did not
board on time, they gave our seats to someone else. We watched helplessly as our plane sat at the
gate taunting us, then pulled away leaving us behind.
A
very helpful airline staff member proceeded to try and help us. The first flight she offered us would have
gotten into KC at 7:25 pm for a 7:30 pm game.
The alternatives slowly got better, but not enough to guarantee we could
make it to the nationally televised Monday night contest.
Eventually,
we had to settle for flying into St. Louis, renting a car, and driving nearly
four hours across the entire state to Kansas City. If you have ever driven Interstate 70, you know
it is a straight and flat highway through some of the most boring sights you
could ever ask to see. Picture the Mass
Pike with no hills or valleys. I’m
surprised my son didn’t kill me on the ride.
We
had to drive a half-hour past our hotel when we got to Kansas City because we
needed to go to the airport. Unlike me,
my bag was smart enough to get on the correct flight and was waiting there for
me with a mocking attitude.
When
I reached for my driver’s license to claim my bag, I nearly passed out. My license was no longer in my pocket. I did get the bag, but headed to the hotel
wondering how I was going to board a flight home the next day. And hoping my son’s sense of humor was still
intact.
A
search of the car failed to turn up my license, and off to the game we
went. Just as the National Anthem began
to play, Avis called me to say they found my license – in St. Louis. I knew I would not have it in time for my
flight tomorrow, but sat back determined to at least enjoy the game.
Ah
yes, the game. It was a nightmare from
start to finish. It was extremely loud,
and none of that was due to us cheering.
Chief fans – always polite – were actually feeling sorry for us.
After
a delicious BBQ lunch the next day, it was off to the airport. Fortunately I still had identification, but
needed something with a photo. I was
finally saved not by my credit cards, but by a BJs Club card with a scratched
up picture of me from at least 15 years ago.
That
got me into the security area, where I was thoroughly frisked by a dedicated
TSA agent. I’m pretty sure he and I are
now considered legally married in several countries.
My
son kept a close eye on me as we waited for our plane home, and insisted on
walking me to the new gate when we got to Baltimore where he left me to my own
devices. He may have secretly watched
from afar for a while.
I
did manage to make it back to Norton without further incident, a minor miracle
in and of itself. My wife and I are now scheduled to travel to Buffalo this
weekend to again watch the Pats game.
She
insists on driving.
Bill Gouveia is a local columnist,
longtime Patriots season-ticket holder, and terrible traveler. He can be emailed at aninsidelook@aol.com and followed on Twitter at
@Billinsidelook.
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