As I reflected on my breakup with my previous partner (a thing I find myself often doing in order to ensure I’m growing in the right directions), I thought a lot about where I fell short as a significant other.
Something that perhaps is blatant to those who know me well is my short temper, the speed at which I reach irritation, and my hanger. All things that partners (and friends) have critiqued me for in the past. Knowing this, I wanted these to be the things I focused on.
One of the big ‘events’ prior to our breakup was a trip to Europe, which was full of me being particularly short with him—I was fussy, I was rude, I was making clipped comments. I remember that when we got back from Europe, we landed in JFK after a particularly difficult landing (I almost vomited, it was horrible) and there was nothing more that I wanted but to lay down in a nice comfy bed. Of course, though, our airbnb was in Hoboken, NJ. It was the beginning of February, so it was cold as fuck outside and it was late at night.
We took public transit into Hoboken, despite my protests, and I was incredibly stressed and irritated the entire way home, going so far as to cry as I trudged through the quiet streets of Hoboken to our airbnb from the PATH station.
It was a lot. I was a lot. I was so frustrated and irritated and just overall so done with the entire travel experience. It was definitely not my finest moment—it was immature and snarky and also just straight up rude to my partner.
So, anyway, fast forward to 36 hours ago.
The Disaster
For the next two weeks, I’m meant to be bouncing my time around Los Angeles, Kona, and Tokyo. It’s a kind of graduation trip I’ll be doing with my lovely mother and I’ve been really excited for it.
So, yesterday, June 24th, I was supposed to fly out to Los Angeles. I arrived at JFK via public transit at around 5:30pm for my 7:30pm flight. By the time I get to the gate, I look and it says ‘Ecuador’. I look around. I check my ticket, I check the electronic screens — I am at the correct gate. There are a bunch of distraught people all standing around the gate. I shrug and figure this is fine, get some food, and wait.
6:45pm rolls around, my boarding time, and it is still Ecuador on the screen, but it says the flight is delayed.
7:30pm comes. No updates from JetBlue. Nothing. I go, okay this is fine, and I wait, texting my mom that my flight is delayed. At this point, I’ve befriended some people around me who are also trying to make their way to Los Angeles. I meet a woman who has been traveling around Europe for the past three weeks and is returning from her vacation, and a couple who just finished celebrating their honeymoon in Aruba. There’s also a mother, Minnie, and her 10 year old son. Understandably, they’re incredibly irritated by the delays, just wanting to go home. But we crack a lot of jokes and it’s kind of nice to have people to complain with.
Around 8pm we get a message that our flight has been delayed til 10.
Around 8:30pm, they announce that three different planes are competing for this gate: Orlando, Ecuador, and Los Angeles.
At 9, they board Orlando.
At 10, they deboard Orlando because the pilot is not at the airport. He is 2.5 hours away from the airport. This is when they also hand us $12 vouchers for the food court.
11pm rolls around. At some point, Ecuador already left at a different gate and so has Orlando. We see a plane pull into the gate. We are then told that this is not our plane, but they have put yet ANOTHER flight ahead of us (another Orlando flight).
A different Ecuador flight (I hope) is at the gate next to us. They line up to begin their boarding process.
12am hits and they cancel the Ecuador flight, claiming that they do not have sufficient crew to staff this flight. People around me start crying and yelling.
Around 1am, the 10 year old boy comes back up to us and says he’s lost his mother. We use the airport intercom to page his mom. It’s very sweet, he’s a responsible kid.
Around 2am, a plane finally arrives at the gate. Hope is renewed.
At 3am, our flight is canceled. I pick up my bag from the carousel and book a hotel room at the JFK Holiday Inn Express.
At around 4am, I get to the Holiday Inn Express and try to check in. “What’s your check in day?” “The 25th, today.” “Check in for today doesn’t start until 3pm.” “Oh. Can I get a refund?” “Get a refund through wherever you booked from.”
At 4:30am, I am sitting on the ground of a Holiday Inn Express, begging the Expedia travel agent to refund my $200. They do. At this point, I make my way back to the airport, figuring it’ll be better to sleep there than the ground of the Holiday Inn.
At around 5am, I make it back to the airport and get my rescheduled flight from JetBlue, a 10:30am flight from JFK to Salt Lake City, with a 6 hour layover at SLC before a 7pm flight from SLC to LAX. I find a cozy (see: cold hard ground) spot in Terminal 5 of JFK and close my eyes.
At around 6am, I make my way to my gate before passing out there at around 6:30am. I wake up with a jolt at 10:10 in a panic, knowing my boarding time was 9:55am. But I look around and people are still boarding so I’m fine.
4 hours and 22 minutes later, I land in Utah where the time is a crisp 1:30pm. I mosey my way over to California Pizza Kitchen, scarf down my weight in carbs and cheese, before sitting down at a random gate and pull out my laptop to write this very blogpost.
What stood out most to me from this experience is the fact that I wasn’t upset…at all. Sure, I’ve cracked a couple complaints here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been surprisingly calm about the whole ordeal. Every time something happened, I just kind of shrugged it off, realizing I would probably be fine. Canceled flight? I can get a hotel. No hotel? I can just sleep at the airport. 6 hour layover in Utah? That’s fine, I can just sit and play video games.
And comparing this with my last travel nightmare in JFK made me realize just how much I’ve grown in these past six months. Perhaps to some it’s no big deal to make it through this travel fiasco without breaking down, but to me (a historically impatient and anxious person), this is an incredible feat.
I think as of late I haven’t been giving myself enough credit. I’ve beat myself up a lot these past six months, going back and forth between liking myself and not liking myself, but it’s moments like these that really remind myself that I’ve come so far. And I am growing positively, moving in good directions.
Who knew I just needed an absolute mess of a travel experience for me to really, really internalize that?