Our last day of travel was a long one. Parents by now have no doubt heard this story recounted by their students, and it probably will be a part of the trip they will not forget! For the benefit of those who have not yet heard the tale, and for posterity, here's what happened:
Since we had to leave our hotel at 4 AM in Munich in order to get the airport with enough lead time ahead of our 7:10 AM flight, most of us were up around 3 AM. The checkout from our hotel was more stressful for some than others, as one group had to pay for accidental damage to a lamp in their room (which, by the way, had to have been the most expensive lamp shade I have ever heard of), and others had to figure out how to pay for snacks they had eaten from the mini bar service in their rooms. Meanwhile, playing on the lounge TV was a disturbingly graphic program...so everyone was trying to ignore it for the last three minutes of our stay.
We loaded the bus for the last time with our driver, Marich, and headed to the airport. Our tour director, Tom, gave us a heartfelt goodbye. We'll miss him! I know the students had come to love his Irish accent, his mannerisms, and his style. What a great tour director! For his last task, Tom delivered us to the British Airways desk and saw us through our first round of airport security for the day.
We had about an hour before our flight, so many students caught a quick nap, visited the restrooms, and did some last minute shopping. Our first flight went very smoothly...we boarded the plane on time and arrived at London's Heathrow Airport with no problems (save for the weird bacon sandwhich they fed us for breakfast). I was impressed with the change had I seen in our group to this point. Two weeks ago, we were all wide-eyed and timid boarding planes. Now I saw students and chaperones helping each other find their seats, assisting with luggage, and generally taking care of one another. I was very proud. As it turned out, those skills would be put to the test as the day progressed.Emerging from the flight at Heathrow, we had to switch terminals and proceed through accompanying security checks. This turned out to be a frustrating ordeal, as a few of our travelers had their bags thoroughly searched. Poor Ms. Hill lost some of her souvenirs to this process. All said, it took us an hour to complete this part of the trip (the terminal switch and security checks). We then found our gate (or at least what we thought was our gate at the time) and dispersed to eat, shop, visit the restrooms, and generally wait out the hours until our 12:50 flight. At this point it was about 9:30 AM BST.
Then the trouble started. Mr. Welle and I visited the American Airlines desk to see if we could get him a seat that would accommodate his long legs on this next 8 hour flight. While there, the ticketing desk attendent said, "Oh sure. And I'll get you your new boarding passes as well. You would have needed them anyway..." The wheels started turning in our heads as we asked her if this meant our entire group would need new boarding passes. She said we did need them... the ones printed at Munich would not work. We immediately realized this would be a challenge for our group, as we had just dispersed across the airport and were told to return to the gate at 12:15...and the ticketing desk was no where near the gate. Additionally, the boarding time was moved up from what had been posted online (to 12:05!) AND they were not confirming the gate number yet...so we knew we may have to switch gates.
So...for the next two hours we tracked down all 27 people and delivered them to the ticketing desk for reprinted boarding passes all in the middle of Heathrow's large and busy third terminal. FUN. When our gate number was finally confirmed, it was a new number, but luckily one right next to the area where our group had been sitting and piling our bags. We proceeded into the gate area, which required ANOTHER security screening for which some members of our group were selected.
Whew. Finally, we boarded the plane, only to sit on the tarmac for over an hour waiting for take-off. While watching the boards for our gate number, we had overheard that Heathrow was experiencing a bunch of delays today and we might be victims of that as well, so we were prepared. The captain told us this was due to some malfunction in a communications system based in Ireland. Again, I was impressed with the patience and cooperative spirit of the group at this point. Despite the delays and the demoralizing security searches, they were generally in an optimistic mood. We kept commenting: "We just need to get to Chicago. At least if we get that far, we could walk home if needed... and we'd be back in the States!" No worries, right? We were on the plane, headed home shortly.
After the delays on the ground, we had a smooth take-off and were headed home! Many of us used this time (the plan was an 8 hour flight) to catch up on some much-needed rest. Then, half way through the flight, we knew something was up. The flight attendants requested that any physicians on the plane identify themselves to the flight crew immediately. Then, a minute later, another request, for any physicians or registered nurses. A member of our group, Melissa, volunteered her services and disappeared toward the front of the plane. A request for a diabetic testing kit was heard, and a passenger produced one. Then, the seat belt sign went on and we were asked to remain in our seats.
Mr. Welle and I started looking at the on-board flight map that is always posted on our screen. We guessed that we might be landing soon, but as we were over the extreme north Atlantic, options were limited. In just a few minutes, the flight attendants announced that we needed to prepare for an emergency medical landing...in Goose Bay, Nova Scotia...so that the aflicted person can be recieved by EMS. As we descended, we could see the snow still present in drifts and ice in the lakes.
So sure enough, we landed at the Goose Bay airport, which, by the looks of it, had not seen so much excitement in years. An ambulance met the plane on the tarmac and the EMS folks transfered the patient to the ambulance.
Ironically, the name of the airport in Goose Bay is "Happy Valley".
So... now what? We had already been delayed even before this new emergency, and Mr. Welle and I had been discussing how we would be crunched for time when we landed in Chicago. Even with the 1 hour delay at Heathrow, our timetable for getting our group of 27 through customs, on a tram to switch terminals and through airport security again and to our gate was sketchy. I estimated we would need at least an hour and a half to do this. Our flight had been scheduled to arrive a 3:25 PM in Chicago, but with the initial delay they were thinking we'd land closer to 4 PM. Our next flight was scheduled to board at 5:45PM, so that didn't leave us a lot of wiggle room. And then....we had to land in Canada.
After refueling on the tarmac at Goose Bay and getting a new flight plan, they were telling us we had 3 more hours on the plane. And it was now 2 PM in Chicago. NOT GOOD. The students kept asking me, "Are we gonna make our next plane?" I was not hopeful. They estimated we would land at 5:10 PM. Add taxi time, customs, collecting and rechecking bags, taking the tram to the correct terminal, and another security checkpoint (all of which would require standing in line), and there was NO WAY we would make it to our gate by the 6:15 take off time, let alone the 5:45 boarding call. But the captain was telling us passenger services reps could help us with our connections once we cleared the gate, so there was nothing to do except to wait and find out what our options were.
I was mentally preparing to have to arrange alternative flights home for 27 people, to call EF, to call parents, to call our bus driver and reschedule pick-up. I figured we were in for a long night.
We did land around 5:10 PM, and probably were all off of the plane by 5:20. As soon as we were allowed to turn cell phones on I was on the line with Leonard, our coach driver from Chippewa Trails who was scheduled to pick us up in Minneapolis at 8:15 PM. I told him to stand by until I got word of our new options, since it was unlikely we'd make our next flight. We then had to go through customs and collect any checked luggage. We were still standing in customs, collecting bags at 5:40 PM. Again, I kept being asked, "Are we going to make our plane?" I started giving the short answer: "No. Our flight boards in 5 minutes. It's not going to happen."
Bags were collected and we passed through the last customs checkpoint. Poor Sara got snagged for a more thorough questioning and was pulled from the line. As the rest of us made it out, the chaperones grouped up the herd before re-checking bags and I went on to find an American Airlines rep to plead for help. The first one I ran into listened to my story, checked what flight we were on, looked at her clipboard and told me: "How many of you? Twenty-seven? We're holding the plane for you. Hurry!"
Everything from that point on was an all-out sprint. We tore out of the re-check area, the three in our group checking bags hurled them at the conveyor as we went by. Then up a crowded escalator with a pause while I flagged down Sara, who had just emerged, a bit shaken, from her interogation by customs officials. Then quickly to the tram, pushing our way through crowds, for a switch to Terminal 3. When we arrived at the Terminal, I grabbed the first American Airlines person I could find, a white-haired woman probably in her late 50s or early 60s. I told her our situation and explained that we had to go through security yet and they were holding the plane. Meanwhile, the lines for security were easily 60-100 people deep. This was quite nerve racking as it was past 6:00 PM and the plane was already boarding. In fact, we heard messages over the PA system requesting all passengers to Minneapolis to report for boarding. She had us wait for a moment while she checked our flight number, then returned, said "follow me" and started RUNNING toward another security gate. Believe me, when that woman started running, so did we!
She took us through a security line reserved for airport employees, where we had to go through the normal, but now insanely rushed, routine of removing our shoes, taking our our liquids/gels, removing metal, etc. and sending our bags through the X-Rays. I have never seen so many people moving so fast. All the while, over the PA, we kept hearing, "This is the final boarding call for flight 1158 to Minneapolis. Passengers please report to the gate immediately." Being one of the first through, I grabbed the next adult in line - Jeff Hill, Ms. Hill's dad - and told him to count as our group came through and to accompany the last member of our group to the gate, H12. With Cory ahead of me, I sprinted to the gate to count the students as they came in and to make sure they would continue to hold the plane. By the way, "sprinting" with bags is a difficult thing to do, especially under this type of pressure. I was halfway there before I remembered my pack had wheels and it would be faster to roll it. Meanwhile, Cory is ahead of me, dodging suitcases and baby strollers in a frantic rush to the gate.
In retrospect, this scene must have been hilarious to spectators. I have seen people running through airports before and looked upon them with pity and perhaps a degree of snobbery: "It must stink to be late!" Never again. I wish I had video tape of the line of 27 people sprinting toward our gate, meanwhile trying to reassemble their luggage and put everything back in their pockets, because, although I wasn't there to witness it, apparently some more of us endured thorough searches and had our luggage rummaged through. The theme from "Chariots of Fire" should have been playing in the background.
I counted each one as they came in one by one, scanned their boarding passes and disappeared onto the plane. The folks at the gate were polite and understanding, thankfully. Everyone was sweating and red-faced as they crossed the finish line into the boarding ramp.
When my count got as high as 20 people, I quickly scrambled for my cell and attempted to call our driver to let him know the show was on. I knew I had to do this RIGHT NOW, as I wouldn't be able to use my cell on the plane and the driver was still on standby at Chippewa. It would take him 2 hours to reach the airport, so if I didn't make the call before the flight we would wait an additional couple of hours at the Minneapolis airport. To add insult to injury, the international cell I was using the entire trip, at that moment, ran out of minutes. By the grace of God, I had also packed my home cell, which DID work.
My hands were shaking as I dialed the number....meanwhile counting 23, 24, 25.... Mr. Hill arrived with the last traveler....As the phone was ringing, the gate attendant had me double-check his computer screen to see if any of the remaining missing passengers were mine. None of them were. We were all on the plane. As I grabbed my bags and headed down the loading ramp, Leonard answered and I hurridly told him we were on the plane and would able to make it to Minneapolis after all. I'm sure it must have been a confusing call from his perspective and it was probably hard to hear because they were starting the engines of the plane at the time. To clarify, he asked me, "So, when does your flight leave?" and as my butt hit the seat on the plane I said, "NOW. WE ARE LEAVING RIGHT NOW."
So Leonard set out for Minneapolis on the bus and we were in the air bound for the same destination within five minutes of each other. We caught our breath and unwound from the emotional rush, realizing we were finally going to make it after all. I could not believe we had all made it. The plane had delayed take-off for twenty minutes while we had made our mad dash through O'Hare. We left the ground at about 6:35 or 6:40, arriving in Minneapolis only 20 minutes late, despite all the delays prior in the day.
When we finally made it to Leonard in the bus parking area at Minneapolis, I'm sure he was not prepared for the welcome he received from students. Some of them actually "hugged" the bus. Drained emotionally and physically exhausted as we had now been up and traveling for over 25 hours with a few more to go, the bus ride home was a quiet one, save for some snoring.
We had a great time on the trip, but the Cardinal was a welcome sight as we pulled into the parking lot at Chi-Hi and were greeted by our loved ones. Home sweet home!
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