I’ve finally have a new #1 traumatic travel experience. It’s close, but I think this one bumps the lady who passed out and threw up on me to #2, and the girl who had a seizure and trapped me in the back of a plane to #3.
To premise, I have trouble getting home from library conferences. The last one took two taxis, five airports, a rental car, and two planes.
This trip home started with a monstrous Colorado windstorm–one that was blowing tables off the roof of the Hyatt downtown, canceled about 40% of flights leaving Denver, and put more than 200 people in the United customer service line. My hopes of catching an early flight ended abruptly, but I felt fortunate I still had a flight, even if it was delayed two hours.
By the time my flight was ready to board, tensions were high all around, and I had been at the airport for six hours (hence the quick turnaround of photos and prolific blogging). My laptop battery was dead, and my phone was holding on for one last conversation with Matt (“I think I’m really going to leave now, you can go to bed”).
During this last conversation, an average looking man walked into the gate, faced my set of chairs and said loudly, “Are you going to Washington?” Everyone ignored him, probably assuming, as I did, he was frustrated by delays. So he moved to the other side of the gate and shouted this time, “Are you going to Washington?”
Everyone shut up and paid attention, so he continued. “I’m going to Washington and I’m going to deliver a message to the [censored] president. [Censored] you George W. Bush!”
He was loud enough that Matt heard him, and was saying, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
After almost 10 years of living or working in Seattle and D.C., I consider myself good at reading crazies. I like to think I can tell who is harmless, and who needs a wide berth.
This guy had an level of anger in his voice that scared me. He set off my adrenaline instantly, and I automatically checked his hands for a gun while looking for the nearest place to duck and cover. That’s not a reaction I have very often (thankfully).
Such a reaction obviously wasn’t necessary, as I was in an airport and a gun making it through security was unlikely. The point is, he was dangerous-crazy.
After a pause that seemed to go on forever, during which no one knew how to react, it suddenly over. An authoritative airport employee appeared out of nowhere and said, “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to step out.” I noted another employee was suddenly on the phone.
Apparently dangerous-crazy-guy was not in it for that much trouble, because he followed orders, and I never saw him again. About five minutes later, an rushed announcement came over the intercom: “In case you are worried that gentleman will not be traveling with us tonight.”
My seat mates and I smiled at each other, and I was relieved–though I would have found it satisfying to see him arrested. Or at least propelled back toward security.
The other travel record I set on this trip pales in comparison, but I have to note that I walked in the door at 4:30 this morning.
And I hope I experience nothing this blog-worthy for at least a week.