Trapped in DIA

After miraculously driving to the airport in a blizzard (story online here), I knew my flight would be cancelled. The desk clerk warned that getting a stand-by seat would be difficult since it was the holiday season. I could only hope that other people wouldn’t be as foolish in this weather and stay home.

The other travelers and I threw our stuff down to set up camp. I sat among mixed company: a sweet elderly couple, a group of annoying teenagers, and a handsome, black military man decked out in uniform. Airport personnel kept us informed that the weather was getting worse. Little did I know we were all about to experience the great DIA shutdown of 2006.

The airport restaurants had, surprisingly, stayed open. I made enough chitchat with my new airport peers to trust them to watch my stuff while I went off for food. Smartphones hadn’t taken off yet, so just texting and talking with friends would have to suffice as entertainment.

It turned out a friend’s roommate, Lisa, was also stranded. I got her number and we tracked each other down. As night fell, airport staff handed out blankets. Lisa suggested we combine ours to make our little nest feel more like a bed. I didn’t want to—but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

After we were laying down, Lisa crept up to my backside and wrapped her arm around me. I was officially in hell: lying on a cold marble floor while being spooned by a woman.

The next day showed no hope for better weather. We began unpacking our things to live our lives. Some folks put on running gear and proceeded to jog around the airport, while others took washcloths from their supply kits for sink baths in airport bathrooms.

I imagined finding a cute guy and getting laid. Instead, I daydreamed this must be what it would be like if we lived forever-indoors in a spaceport on the moon.

It didn’t take long before life got annoying. The elderly couple’s sunny optimism conflicted with my bitterness. I found out that the military man was on the same flight as mine — competition for the coveted stand-by seats that awaited us. The teens kept running off to find mischief, only to have security continuously tell them to stop. And Lisa’s flirtatious attempts
became unbearable.

I did break away and met an attractive guy. He and I made plans to meet later that evening for an airport date (a story for another time).

The Red Cross brought cots for the elderly and disabled. I was jealous — if for nothing else but to use it as a barrier to keep Lisa from groping
me again.

On the third day, the snow had finally stopped and one runway was cleared. Airport personnel notified us to go to our gate for stand-by tickets. There, I got a ticket; the second-to-last one left! The female clerk warned me that if my connecting flight gets full I would be booted at the next airport.

For no real reason I argued that her logic was completely wrong. What need did I have for a connecting flight I was exhausted, buggy-eyed and a bit delusional. The clerk told me to shut up or she would revoke my ticket. I quickly did what I was told.

But an airplane seat had never felt so comfortable in my life — and while three days in an airport gave me stories for a lifetime, they were ones I’d much prefer to forget.