We just returned from the annual family reunion in MN, an event that's been held for over 30 years. Trish and I fly to MSP from Spokane, and spend 3 nights in The Land of 10,000 Lakes. Fly over Friday AM return Monday AM. Today was no different.
That said, it could have (and should have) been quite different. I made the flight reservations, usual flights, usual times. Or so I thought. We arrived in good time at the airport for the return flight, my son, Tod, driving. Went through security and then to our gate, C1. But: the sign at that gate said San Francisco. Huh?
Trish determined the gate had changed to C10. So we hustled over there. Yup, that gate said Spokane. There was nobody there other an airport employee. We said that we were supposed to be on that flight, showed our boarding passes.
Nope! OMG! Our reservations were for a flight at 9 PM that day,12 hours later.
We threw ourselves on the mercy of the court, AKA, the guy at the gate. They were ready to close the airplane, everybody already on board. Turned out, there were 2 open seats in Comfort+, the section we'd paid for. Pretty darned lucky.
Different story, bigger screw up. It's 1983. I'm returning to my job in Egypt after a 2-week break in the States, flying out of JFK airport to London. Or so I thought. I arrived at the airport and went to the display to see which gate I should get to. My flight wasn't listed. Went to the ticket counter and asked why. She looked at my ticket and said, "That flight is leaving from LaGuardia, not JFK. Crap!
I hustled out the door, grabbed the first taxi, hopped in. I waved a $100 dollar bill in front of the driver and said, "Get me to LaGuardia as fast as possible!" I made it in time. Barely.
