Sometimes, the flight gods forget about me.

A few Mondays ago, I woke up to a notification that my KLM flight to Amsterdam was cancelled. There were no details on the reason why. I contacted the airline at 5 am to figure out how to get to Amsterdam now that this flight had been cancelled. They changed my plans to allow me to arrive on the same day on a Delta flight, but a couple of hours earlier. I was fine with that.

On the Wednesday that I was supposed to travel to Amsterdam, a major storm passed through Atlanta, where I had a connecting flight. There was a ground stop in Atlanta for a few hours to prevent any arrivals and departures due to the weather. Consequently, my new flight got cancelled. I got the notification while I was at work and started sweating. I was so ready for this trip because my week had been torturous, and news of another flight cancellation had floored me.

The entire process of changing a flight was so manual, and I hated it. I had to actually speak to someone rather than doing it myself. I called the airline, but there was at least a two-hour wait time, so I reserved my line in the queue and they were going to call me back. Even their social media account was three hours behind in responding. As soon as I left work, I headed to the airport, hoping to speak with someone at check-in who could slide me in on another one of the flights for the day.

I arrived at my departure airport praying that the check-in agent could make magic happen, and she could somehow still get me to Amsterdam by Thursday. She tried but couldn’t. Instead I would get there at a ridiculously early arrival time of 5 am on Friday – my birthday. I was not pleased by it, but it wasn’t Delta’s fault. Who could have predicted that this would happen on this day?

So I headed home, and tried to mentally prepare for the next day because I had a four hour layover in Boston, and I hated Boston’s airport for a connecting flight. The terminals don’t connect post-security, so I was going be stuck in terminal A without access to any of my lounges. Then I got a third notification that my morning flight was cancelled. UGH!!! I JUST WANT TO GET TO AMSTERDAM!!!

I tried calling the airline and contacting them on social media again. Just like before, the wait time was ridiculously long, and I couldn’t make any changes on my own on the Delta website. Everything out of my home airport to Atlanta had been cancelled. Instead, I was placed on a United flight which would connect me through Houston. I was totally fine with avoiding Delta’s Atlanta hub after all of this craziness. The problem was that I wouldn’t arrive until a day and a half later than originally planned. At that point, I just wanted to get on a plane, and I didn’t care that I would miss some of my plans. Even better was the fact that I didn’t have to go to Boston. I actually love Houston’s airport.

I was just waiting for the next problem to happen. I arrived the next day to fly to Amsterdam by way of Houston. The flight to Houston went well. I had the entire row to myself, and I was close to a lounge during my layover in IAH. The flight to Amsterdam was on time and uneventful. Unfortunately for me, I had the middle seat. I tried to sleep for most of the 9.5 hour flight in order to adjust to the time change, but it was too loud on the plane and too much farting by other passengers and too much nervous energy within me because I was upset that I had missed a day and a half of my travels.

I’m lucky to have only experienced a few flight delays in my life. No cancellations, no ground stops, no diversions. But they got me this time. That’s one for the flight gods.

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