More than basic skills

Well look at you -- reading my first post, I'm very proud and flattered. Anyway, enough with the bullshit, let's get to the good stuff.

My most recent trip to Chicago was necessitated by the Illinois Certification Testing System test of basic skills as well as elementary/middle school education. With titles like these one would be inclined to dismiss the tests as rote exercises in general knowledge. Well, you'd be correct, but unfortunately I seem to be deficient in general knowledge. The test boiled down to 8 combined hours of fifth grade trivia.

The big drama of the weekend, though, was the chaotic clusterfuck at O'Hare. My flight was originally scheduled for 5:20 and after waiting in line for an hour and a half I was informed that not only was my flight canceled but the next flight wouldn't leave until 7 am. I tried my best to be assertive, but it came off pretty whiny and desperate. Somehow, the agent, through the "back door", was able to book me on a flight to San Antonio that left at 8, a good four hours away. The agent warned me to hold on to my ticket because if I didn't make the flight I'd need it for the 7 am flight. I waved my hand and dismissed the thought. Four hours was more than enough time to make a flight a few feet away.

Unfortunately the line to check in at United, where I had been re-booked, had roughly 200 people in it. 200 very weary, tense, people. I got in line confident that I would make it in time for my flight. I took the opportunity to get to know my neighbors. I figured, I'm in this for the long haul, I might as well get a feel for my comrades. The guy in front of me, dressed in board shorts and an Ed Hardy T-shirt, was genial enough. He was headed to Ft. Lauderdale and eventually Key West. The family behind me was a very chatty group of Indians, the youngest of which had a "great" time at the wedding the had just attended. Periodically some of my kinfolk would try and gamble at the self service kiosk, or mention to the nearest person that they will be right back. Often times, the person would return, dejected, and resume waiting. Rarely, the person would not return, lost in the ether of terminal 1.

The hours, and I do mean hours, ticked by. Before I knew it it was 7:30. I was so close to the front of the line that I started trembling. I had earlier consigned that I would have no problem waiting until morning, but I was so close to the agent that I felt I would have an emotional breakdown if I missed my flight. Someone, an employee? a forward thinking customer? my subconscious? said I should move to line 3. 7:40. I made a run for it after bidding adieu to my Floridian companion. 7:52. I was informed that line 3 only had self-check in. Not going to work. I inquired with the agent and she said I have a special ticket and should proceed to first class check in. Tell them she sent me. I looked back to get her name but she was last in a swarm of fanny packs and oversized straw hats. 7:55. The goddam first class passengers were taking forever. One passenger had the most casual look on her face, as if she were somehow removed from the pandemonium going on. Panic began to set in. I knew I had missed my flight. I considered simply admitting defeat and cozying up in a little corner for the next 12 hours but I needed confirmation from the airline. I wasn't going to quit until someone told me to quit. I transcribe for you now my exact dialogue:
Me: Hi. How are you. I have four minutes to make my flight. I know I'm not going to make it so if that's the case please just tell me I'm going to miss it and I'll leave.
Agent: Four minutes? You're going to miss your flight.
Me: I figured.
Agent: Where are you going?
Me: San Antonio
Agent: Actually your flight was delayed until 9:20. Here's your boarding pass.

He didn't realize it but he brought me as close to tears of happiness as I've ever come. I was overcome with such emotion that I had to take a few minutes to steady myself.

The rest of the trip was a blur. I barely noticed being pulled from the security line for a random security check where I was treated like a prisoner, yelled at, standing in my socks with three other just as confused women. Nor did I notice the little boy sitting next to me who periodically fell asleep on my shoulder and went to the bathroom between six and thirty-five times.

It wasn't until 12:30 am when my dad came around the corner to pick me up that I realized the entire ordeal was over. I came to realize that there are some things you can't control. You can't make time go slower (or faster, whatever the case may be), you can't make someone work harder than they want to, sometimes, no matter how fast you run, you can't make it to where you need to go in time. It's times like these when you just have to accept that there are things out of your control. Getting mad, or frustrated or pissy will only spread to those around you. You just have to close your eyes, breathe, pray that your plane was delayed an hour and a half
and leave the rest up to fate.