Rhapsody in Blue

The voice-automated system has already cut me off twice. Three times. At some point, I just stop answering questions and start shouting, "Agent!"

It doesn't help.

Digging through my wallet, I find a membership card and another number, one for those in premier status. I call, navigate the system again and find that I may have more than an hour wait. In the meantime, I have bits of Rhapsody in Blue fading in and out of the Blackberry speakers.

I think back to high school and marching band. Doo dum dee doo… Bittersweet memories wash over me as I think about heading to the shower and taking the phone with me. The song will still be playing when I am done, sparkling clean and ready for bed. I think about taking the phone with me to bed. A break in the music and a voice beckoning might wake me if I start to drift.

I don't have a ticket with this airline. I just hope they can get me out of Dodge or DC, as the case may be, before the snow comes. I have... Strike that, I had a ticket to New Orleans for Wednesday morning but forecasts predict anywhere from five to 20 inches of snow on top of the feet that encase my car, walk, street and home. The city.

Anything more or less than a bright sunny day means I'm not going anywhere, even if I can figure out how to get to the airport, a prospect more up in the air than any flight in the region. I don't have a ticket with United but I call in hopes that they can take one or two or three of the vouchers or a handful of miles and get me out of town.

When I call Delta to request a move to Tuesday, I find my original flight already canceled, a fact that would have been nice to know sooner rather than later. The very nice agent with whom I speak moves me to a Tuesday night flight out of Dulles - a little less convenient but that one might make it out.

A couple of hours later, I receive an email telling me that the new flight is canceled and I am flying Wednesday again, out of Dulles, which wouldn't be a problem but for the fact that Metro isn't running above ground. Buses are not running. My car is encased in solid feet of snow and we're supposed to get more Tuesday night through Thursday morning.

I call again and talk to a less-helpful agent who doesn't know what I want to do. Or maybe she does. She understands. She just can't or won't do anything to help, so she puts me on a flight Wednesday at noon out of National and I can't summon the strength to argue. It will be canceled. Period. There's nothing to say or do.

I no longer want travel vouchers – I have three to use in the next 10 months. I don't need miles, with a quarter of a million stashed away in the coffers. I don't even need the money back. I just want to leave. I want to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. To see my friends. To see the sun. I missed Christmas with my family due to inclement weather. I lost my seat and several hours on a canceled flight home from Frankfurt. From the sound of George Gershwin, I'll miss Mardi Gras, too.

Doo dum dee doo.

It's not the party, though, that I'll miss. If I don't get there by Thursday afternoon, I'll miss my friend's parade, which is the whole point of the visit. I want to share in this part of her life. I need time with my friends. I've had the event on my calendar for months. If I don't get there by Thursday afternoon, there's no point in going.

And I feel like crying. An hour and 45 minutes on hold and I fall asleep. In the morning, I start over with another 45 minutes on hold.

"I have a flight for tomorrow. It's already been canceled twice. Is there any way I can get out today? Can I go anywhere?"

"You flight is on time for today," the agent answers.

"My flight today?" I ask.

"Tomorrow," she replies. "Your flight is on schedule right now for tomorrow."

"And we're supposed to get 10 to 20 inches of snow overnight."

"We don't know..."

"You're kidding, right?"

The snow has already started in parts south of DC, south of me.

"I'm sorry I can't help you but have you heard about the Delta Skymiles American Express card?" she asks, moving into a sales pitch and I laugh.

"No," I reply.

"Would you like me to send you more information?" she asks.

"Not unless it can get me to New Orleans by Thursday."

I look into train tickets but with a 6:30 departure and 26 hours of travel time, on a good day, not to mention the fact that a one-way fare costs as much as a roundtrip plane ticket, there's no way.

And I just want to get in my car and drive out of the snow but my car's still covered and my road unplowed. I won't get very far. One of my coworkers hasn't left her apartment since Thursday. The federal government is closed for the second day in a row and the snow... It's starting again.

Doo dum dee doo.



Tag: Travel Snow Washington DC