A Clogged Lavatory
The flight from San Francisco to Newark had already been delayed 30 minutes when we checked in at SFO, which meant a 90-minute layover at EWR would now be an hour-long wait before taking off for Dubai. Going through security went smoothly, leaving us plenty of time to get breakfast before boarding the Boeing 777. Even though we were in boarding group 3 of 5, the overhead bins on the plane were full before we even made it through the gate, and carry-ons with wheels were being checked. A woman in front of me with a large backpack was forced to check it, and I worried that I would face the same fate, but I managed to make it onto the plane with my worldly belongings still in hand. My backpack took up most of the space under the seat in front of me, with just enough room for my to feet to avoid being uncomfortable.
As the plane filled, there were announcements about repairs to a clogged lavatory that would delay our departure by 15 minutes, but not to worry, we would make up the time in the air. The repairman had to go and fetch another tool and return to the plane, turning 15 minutes into 30. 45 minutes later came the disappointing news that the lavatory could not be unclogged, and so we would just take to the skies with a busted loo. A few minutes after that, victory over the clog was declared, the repairman packed up his tools, the door was sealed, and we taxied onto the runway. Our scheduled 90-minute buffer in Newark was now 0.
The plane felt like it was doing its utmost to make up the lost time, but weather was working against us. Three times, the turbulence was severe enough that the pilot requested the flight attendants to return to their seats, forcing them to quickly maneuver a beverage cart down the narrow aisles as they did so. During one of the bouts of turbulence, an elderly Asian woman who apparently did not speak English got up from her seat and wandered slowly down the aisle with the flight attendants hollering that she must return to her seat, which she eventually did. Somewhere near Lake Erie we encountered a headwind, and not long after the plane began its slow descent into the rainy gloom that hung over most of New England.
The glow from the lights on the ground got brighter and brighter as we dropped in altitude, and it felt like the plane was taking forever to get below the murk. Suddenly all the freeways and warehouses and parking lots emerged from below, closer than they are when I look out the windows of the 25th-floor office I work from in San Francisco. The pilot set the hulking plane down on the tarmac like a mother putting her baby to bed, and palpable relief swept through the cabin as we taxied to the terminal. The flight attendants made their usual arrival announcements, but added a special request at the end that everyone wait to get up from their seats until the 22 people on board with urgent connections to Athens, Porto and Dubai be allowed to deplane first. It only sort of worked.
My sister made it off the plane first, and greeted me with the disheartening news that we had missed our fight to Dubai – departing a mere two gates way – by about 10 minutes. Text messages flooded my phone, first notifying me that my SFO flight was late, then welcoming me to Newark, then apologizing that I had arrived late. We were a little flummoxed when we were handed a business card and told that scanning it was the means by which we would be rearranging our itinerary. It would have been much more reassuring to speak with a human, but I’ll begrudgingly admit that the technology solution was both confusing and effective. It wasn’t long before I received an email containing a link to book complimentary hotel rooms and meals, and in three taps it was all taken care of. An additional phone call to the hotel brought a shuttle to the airport, which we boarded and rode along endless freeways passing over and through endless warehouses and container yards, until we finally arrived at our hotel. The electrical closet made a mysterious buzzing sound, and the lights in the hallways seemed to flicker occassionally, but the rooms were tidy and quiet. At midnight my head hit the pillow and sleep swallowed me up.
(Note: the image above is a still from the movie Blade Runner, so it’s not literally what Newark looks like, but it’s a lot what Newark looks like)