I’ve been holding off on this last post about the trip to New Mexico because I had to locate the name of the fellow who saved our trip back from being something like a rerun of the trip out. Considering the content of the previous post, it should come as no surprise to you that - of course - the United Airlines flight was delayed.

We were there super-early for an early flight.
We wanted to check the monster bags together, and then John would run out and return the car.

Our hearts sank when we were told that not only was the first flight delayed, but because of the first delay we would miss our connecting flight in Denver to come back to Atlanta. And yes, of course all other United flights were already overbooked.

This time, we knew enough to request that they find us a flight on another airline. At first they said that there weren’t any. Then they said they had one - late that night. We took it, and went to stand in line at the Delta desk.

We did have to wait in line for a while at Delta, but hey, we had all day. People were very rude and impatient. A couple of people even tried to cut us in line. However, the Delta people were much more on top of the situation and had triaged the people in line. We waited, yes, but it was nothing like the chaos we had experienced waiting for United.

When we got to the front of the Delta line, we were told that our transfer tickets were no good. Because of the heat, they had a lower cutoff on weight - and therefore on passengers. They couldn’t book us on that flight.

John and I looked at each other, willing each other not to lose it.

Then, someone intervened - a very capable, wonderful guy who started pecking at the keyboard with a resoluteness and determination that was both clearly clear and very comforting. For the first time, I got the feeling that someone cared about how things turned out for us. He looked, and muttered, and got someone on the phone, and pecked away.

After about ten minutes, he informed us that he had places for all three of us, sitting together, on the 9:00 flight (or something like that, I forget the actual time). I thought he meant that night. I was grateful that we’d fly the same day, but the thought of wandering around an airport for another whole day….

But NO! He meant the morning flight. It was a direct flight. It was leaving in an hour! We were actually going to be home earlier than we would have on our original flight!

I made him write down his name.

For the record, then, Delta Airlines employee Tom Claeson in Albuquerque (ABQ) is outstanding!

He is competent and efficient and calm and caring. He should get a performance-based bonus, and I sincerely hope he does. Make a note, Delta PR person!

It was a scramble to make the flight on time. We checked the luggage, and John vamoosed to return the car. He got back rather quickly (luck was with that time), and we headed toward security.

Uh-oh. SSS. Again, Selected for Special Screening. All of us.

This time, it was a good thing. We skipped ahead of the long, snaky line. We took off shoes, saw our bags swabbed and tested in a machine, stepped into both metal detector and air puffer. My camping matches were confiscated - I’d forgotten that they were “strike anywhere.” I was only hoping to get a smoke after the flight. I remembered not to bring a lighter.

We got on the flight - it went perfectly, and again we had an excellent pilot that didn’t scare me on the landing (I’m always a little nervous when the plane lands).

We took the MARTA train back to our nearest station, and I sat on all the bags to keep them from moving around. I think I still have a dent on my hip. We got a taxi without any trouble, and lugged our bags inside. The camping bag went directly to storage.

A week later, we’re still sort of recovering from our vacation. It was wonderful in a lot of ways, but it took a lot more energy than any other vacation that I can remember.