My Last Night in New York ... Make That New Jersey

So after seeing Big Bird at La Fenice, I headed back to my [former] building to change into travel clothes, zip up my suitcase and catch my towncar to the airport. Although I never do this, something compelled me to call JetBlue and confirm that my flight out of JFK to Long Beach was on time. I just about dropped the phone when the automated computer voice said “Flight… Two-One-Seven has … been… canceled.” I had to press “replay” just to make sure I’d heard correctly.

Really? On my last day in NYC the last flight of the day to SoCal has been canceled? On the very day that the movers took everything away and I don’t even have a bed to crash on overnight? This was all very poetic (and predictable) in a warped Murphy’s Law sort of way.


I looked at my watch. 3:06. My car was due to pick me up at 3:30. Should I just cancel the car? Should I go to the airport with the hope of figuring something out once I get there? I dialed our corporate travel agent and within a few minutes, I had a brand new ticket on a new airline (US Airways), out of a different airport (Newark), in a different state (New Jersey), headed to a slightly different destination (Los Angeles) and with one connection (Phoenix). Not exactly ideal, but considering how many flights had been canceled due to the weather, I felt pretty fortunate just to have a ticket.


At exactly 3:30, I rode the elevator down (for the last time), hugged Leo and Nigel (two of the building concierges) good-bye and located my driver out on the street. As he threw my suitcase into the trunk, he said “All set to go to JFK?” I responded, “Nope! Change of plans – we’re going to Newark instead!” Without missing a beat he said “No worries, I could take you to Philadelphia if you wanted!” and we were off towards the Lincoln Tunnel.


When I arrived at Newark, my new LAX-bound flight was already running almost two hours late. Given that I had only an hour layover in Phoenix to begin with, I called US Airways and re-booked myself on the first flight from Phoenix to LA the next morning and then I called Marriott and booked myself a hotel room as close to the airport as possible.


Over the course of the next 6 hours, the US Airways gate staff in Newark would delay the flight another 5 times, each time adding 30 – 60 minutes to our anticipated departure time. Finally our aircraft arrived, but Mr. Murphy had diverted another plane with our intended flight crew to Albany for refueling.


Finally, at 11:00 pm, a sheepish gate agent came back over the loud speaker and said, “At this time, we are officially canceling Flight 352 to Phoenix”. A collective groan went up in the waiting area and one woman collapsed in hysterics.


I called a couple of hotel chains to try and get a room, but characteristically for New York, every room was booked. The Marriott Rewards customer service agent told me very seriously that there was a room at the Ritz Carlton Downtown in the city and it was a gorgeous 2500 sq. ft. suite with incredible amenities. We both dissolved into giggles when she said it was only $7500 per night. I told her I would have considered it for $6500, but $7500 was just a little too over the top.


I called JetBlue back again and had them scour their Saturday schedule for west bound flights. All New York-Long Beach flights were long since sold out and overbooked, but the agent was able to send me to Salt Lake City and then connect me through to San Diego where I would have to rent a car for a two-hour drive to Special K’s house in The OC.


It was now close to 11:30 pm on Friday night and I was staring at the very real possibility of either (a.) hanging around Newark airport all night (no thank you), (b.) going back to my now empty apartment and sleeping on the floor (less than ideal) or (c.) wandering around Times Square all night, pulling my last “all-nighter” Big Apple style (exhausting just to think about – besides, what would I do with my luggage?)


I called Nick on his cell phone, reasoning that if they were asleep already, the cell phone would be off and at least I wouldn’t have woken them up. Hallelujah! Nick answered on the second ring and soon, I was in a towncar, heading back into Manhattan where I crashed on Nick and Reny’s couch for the night.


Nick and Reny fed me a great breakfast and we even had time to take wee Ryan out to the courtyard for some soccer before I was due to catch yet another car bound for JFK. Upon arrival at the airport, I was not surprised at all to see that my Salt Lake/San Diego flight was already over an hour late. I finally got out of JFK at about 3:00 pm on Saturday afternoon and after a bit of a planes and automobiles adventure (no trains, although it was close), finally showed up on Special K’s doorstep at about 9:30 pm on Saturday night, roughly 36 hours after this whole adventure had begun on the opposite coast.


Escape from New York complete! And I look much cuter with an eye patch than Kurt Russell did.