Some Days, We Don't Let the Line Move at All

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How I Almost Missed My Flight

Clever girl that I am, I got an early-morning flight to Krabi from Bangkok, effectively giving myself an extra day at the beach. It also meant getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to get to the airport. So maybe I cut it a little close, but it was a domestic flight meaning there was no immigration to deal with.

I easily flagged down a cab at 5am. That would get me to the airport at 5:30 for my 6:35 flight. Perfecto.

Well, Mr. Cab Driver was nice enough. He was so nice, he drove to some place with a guy he knew spoke English just to make sure that "airport" meant Suvarnabhumi International Airport. Of course, I had to look it up, because at 5 am, I can tell you "BKK", but not "Suvarnabhumi". They also pronounce it "Savannah-boom", like we were discussing some American Civil War battle in pidgin.

Mr. Cab Driver also drove with the gas light on the entire way. I've already mentioned what a nervous traveler I am, and going the whole trip with the threat of running out of fuel didn't help. And then there was his speed. I've been in some break-neck taxis before (once rushing to catch a train), but this guy was off the hook, going 100kph (or more) down the freeway. I have no idea if he thought he could drop me off before he ran out of gas if he went faster although all he was doing was using up his fuel at a much quicker rate. It didn't help my nerves. Or maybe the model race car and helicopter on his dashboard were the tell-tale hints to his speed racer pesona.

But, I got there in one piece, and still had a fat hour to check in. I checked for the ticket counters for my flight, and then stood in line.

When I say "stood", that is exactly what I mean. There was no forward progress in this line whatsoever. The lines were all jammed up against each other, so I might have cut in front of some lady, but she kept on line-jumping with her friends, giving me no reasonable way of knowing which line she thought she was in.

The clock kept up its inexorable ticking towards my departure time. And the line did not move at all. The people around me were all leaving at about the same time, and they started making noise. Finally, I asked an airline employee about the situation and was told to go stand in another line on the other side.

It was shorter, but that line, too, wasn't moving at all. After commiserating with the people around me, who were all getting nervous, I saw that one lady was holding a sign with my flight on it. "Hey! That's me!"

"OK, stay right here."

"But shouldn't I be checking in right now? You have the sign for my flight..."

"Yes. Stay here."

So I stayed there, in a line that continued to not move, until she came back from trolling the lobby with the sign. I jumped at her again because that was my flight. Suddenly, the women all jumped into action. They weighed my bag, printed a boarding pass, and scurried me off to security.

Why I had to stand in line for 40 minutes when they could have been doing that exact thing with everyone else in the line ahead of me is beyond my comprehension. I knew that in 5 minutes, they'd come around with the sign for the next flight, and another 10 people who had been standing around me waiting for someone, anyone to do anything remotely related to checking them in would also be whisked through the check-in process. But without that pressure? Nothing.

Fortunately, security was a breeze. Since everyone was standing in the check-in line, there was no one in my way at security. I raced through the airport looking for my gate, passing little old ladies and lazy teenagers alike. In Bangkok, no one even pretends to stand on one side of the walkway and walk on the other. I had to vocally get the people to move.

It's a good thing I did, too. I made it to my gate and was pointed to a bus. I got on the bus with the other passengers. In thirty seconds, I'm guessing when they confirmed I was the last passenger they had checked baggage for, they closed the door and drove us to the plane.

It's not quite as dramatic as having them close the airplane door behind you, but in the land of stair-cars, that doesn't usually happen. I certainly haven't been that late for a flight since it took my mom and me three and a half hours to drive an hour and fifty minutes in a snow storm and the gate agent suggested that I not go to the bathroom because they just might shut the door on me. Needless to say, I didn't stop to use rest room this time, either. I didn't even ask.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Suvarnabhumi Airport, Bangkok, Thailand