Blah Blah Patience Blah Blah

I'm sitting here, waiting for enough time to go by so I can get into the shower and get ready to get the boy from the airport.  Waiting for American Airlines to get off its tucus and get the plane in the air.  The plane that, the boy told me, drove in circles a few times on the runway before finally deigning to come to the gate.  The warm, welcoming gate where passengers can disembark and the boy can finally get on his and come home.

American Airlines - you and I need to have a conversation.  It was bad enough that you messed up my trip to Seattle last summer and made me lose a day with the boy.  Because of you, I may never go to Houston again (sorry Wade!).  But to make the boy miss a flight that was delayed by thirty minutes because his train broke down and he was fifteen minutes late to the gate and you told him that he had to check in thirty minutes early is just cruel.  Let's do some quick math, k?  Fifteen minutes plus thirty minutes equals forty-five minutes, which falls well into your thirty-minute-before-flight-check-in policy.

Even worse, you made him claim his luggage at O'Hare and spend the night in the airport with his luggage, outside the security gate, because you refused to let him re-check him bag until 4:30am.  So he was stuck with all his valuables in an unguarded area overnight.

Aside:  One of few useful things about the TSA is that at least the boy would have been safe.

Now, he's finally sitting on a tarmac in a puddle-jumper at O'Hare and I JUST WANT HIM HOME ALREADY.

And for what it's worth, I like United better anyway.