Our luggage earned more frequent-flier miles than we did
If you read my last column, you might remember me worrying that we had to change planes at JFK airport in New York on our latest trip and the crazy experience I had doing that there two years ago. Well, we’re back after an amazing trip to the Caribbean. However, JFK lived up to its awful reputation as the worst place for a connection.
We took off from Pittsburgh at 6 a.m. under clear skies with quiet weather all the way to New York. Just before descent, the pilot announced there was unexpected fog at JFK and we’d have to circle for a while. We had enough fuel to linger for about a half hour, hoping the fog would lift. It didn’t. JFK diverted us to Hartford, Conn., where we landed, refueled and sat for about an hour. Needless to say, we missed our connection to St. Kitts. No worries, the email from Delta said, we’ve already rebooked you on the next flight through Miami. That meant changing planes twice and arriving eight hours late. But as Pumbaa and Timon so eloquently put it in Disney’s The Lion King, “Hakuna Matata!”
Here’s the punchline: Our luggage didn’t get on the same plane with us. In fact, the bags flew on Delta to San Juan, Puerto Rico, and were meant to arrive in St. Kitts two hours before we would. I didn’t give luggage a thought because we were too busy taking the jitney bus to the end of the terminal, taking the elevated air train to a different terminal, checking in with American Airlines, then going through security once again to catch our next flight. All of that went swimmingly (the experience two years ago prepared me) and we just made the connection.
When we arrived at St. Kitts, it was dark, we were tired and only then learned our bags were in Puerto Rico. It would have been fun to go with them, but there were no seats on that flight. Why Delta kept the bags and sent them without passengers is a mystery. They’ll arrive tomorrow, Delta said. They’ll come the next day, American said. At first, we were irked, but realizing that we had enough essentials in our carry-ons and looking around at the majestic scenery of sun, sand and volcanic mountains … we didn’t really care! Three days later, our bags finally arrived. Delta had flown them to Miami so American could fly them to us. It reminds me of that Abbott and Costello routine, “Who’s on first?” I chuckled thinking our bags would earn more frequent flier miles than we did.
We didn’t bother buying clothes. The swimsuits and cover-ups in our carry-ons sufficed, along with washing out a few things to re-wear. I had my makeup, toiletries and diving regulator and mask. Next time, I’ll throw an extra outfit and undies in my carry-on, too.
Kristin Emery can be reached at kristinemery1@yahoo.com.