The Descent

The descent–arguably the most intimidating part of the journey. An aircraft taking off can be nerve wracking, definitely, but to me, descent releases cages of butterflies. I become a pavilion of them you can find at a zoo. Take off is the start of a roller coaster, but landing is the drop of that roller coaster. The anticipation builds as you climb and it has ample time to build to its peak before the descent down to the ground. 

Not to mention, my take off was in the dry land of Nevada. Sure, there was snow. It was Christmas time, but the runways were as clear as ever. The big storm that was supposed to be sweeping across the nation had barely affected Reno, Nevada. My take off was so smooth, I thought I would miss this winter storm entirely. 

Denver, on the other hand, experienced much more treacherous weather patterns. I told myself, worst case scenario, Denver is more equipped for such weather so even if I didn’t miss the storm, everything would be all right. The airline agents and pilots were trained for this sort of thing and they had the resources to overcome the weather. 

The pilot came on the speaker to address the passengers. “Hello, everyone. I’m happy to announce we will be starting our descent shortly. There will be quite a bit of turbulence, it’s kind of rough out there. We’re in for a bumpy ride.”

I felt the butterflies getting antsy, wanting to be released from their cage. As the pilot said, it was definitely a bumpy ride. It definitely could have been compared to a roller coaster. 

The aircraft touched down and we could all feel the wind trying to overturn the plane. The windows were fogged and the outside world was barely recognizable. I thought to myself, I wonder if this is what an igloo feels like. The windows were frozen over, white powder flurrying about the air, but the inside of the cabin was a comfortable temperature. 

I had originally scheduled my flight for Christmas Day, which was a Sunday, because it was the cheapest, but about a week before, I received a notice from Southwest warning me about the storm. They said  if I wanted to change my flight to beat the storm, I could do so at no extra cost. So, I did. It was Wednesday and I couldn’t help but feel I was right in the thick of it. I rescheduled to this flight specifically because besides this one stop in Denver, it was a direct flight. No plane change, no layover. I didn’t want to be traveling for longer than I had to. 

I waited patiently for the other passengers to leave the plane. I watched the workers down below exchanging luggage from the plane before being told I also had to leave because there was a change in flight crew, so I couldn’t just stay on the plane like I had originally thought. Slightly disgruntled, I left the plane with everyone else. 

As I was leaving, I heard the flight attendants gossiping amongst themselves. “We’re not going anywhere tonight. Don’t get your hopes up, Dottie,” a slightly older brunette with an 80’s-esque hairstyle said to a younger blonde, more upbeat attendant. She spent a few seconds adjusting her flight attendant scarf with an annoyed look on her face. Despite her look of pessimism, I couldn’t help but feel she was more of a realist. Dottie, on the other hand, was an optimist through and through. 

“I believe in them. The pilots, the crew, everyone. The sooner we get off the ground, the sooner this mess will be behind us. We just need to get above it again,” Dottie said to her peers. If only her optimism was enough to get shit done in a situation like this. Positivity doesn’t exactly change the weather. 

“I mean,” she continued, “if they were actually concerned, they would have canceled the flights. Denver is used to storms like this. We’ll be alright.”

“I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, Dottie. Denver may be used to storms like this, but this ain’t your regular storm.” I wished the brunette shared some shred of positivity with Dottie. Maybe then my hope wouldn’t sink lower and lower by the minute. 

The tunnel that led up to the airport was freezing, colder than I imagined. I checked the weather. It was -23 degrees. I had never experienced such temperatures before. This inescapable doom dragged my hope down deeper in an attempt to suffocate it. I couldn’t help but think I changed my flight to avoid this storm and now I’m stuck in the middle of it. I couldn’t deny the unfortunate irony in this situation. 

We waited in the airport for an ungodly amount of time. Occasionally, customer service representatives would announce over the speaker, “We apologize for the delay, the flight crew hasn’t made it to the airport yet because of the weather, we’re doing everything we can to get you going again”—things to placate the disgruntled customers surrounding them like vultures. 

Finally, at 8:30, the flight crew appeared at the gate waving and smiling at us. They knew they were common heroes in this moment. They announced we would now board the plane. My suffocating hope suddenly took a gasp of breath. The doom could only hold it at bay for so long. Hope longs to be free and it was fighting the whole time to escape, it just needed a rope to grab onto. 

We started boarding, the walk down the tunnel again was colder than before, although I only barely noticed. When you get to a certain temperature, it all just feels the same. 

After everyone took their seats, the pilot welcomed us to the flight and then the flight attendants went through the safety instructions as is customary and necessary. We rode out onto the runway, eager to leave this whole ordeal behind. 

We stopped at the runway and the pilot announced there would be another delay. The wings were frozen over and they needed to de-ice them for safety reasons before take off. 

For two hours, they attempted to de-ice the wings, until the pilot came back on the speaker and said, “Well folks, we tried. But unfortunately, every time we put the de-icer on, the de-icer freezes just making the problem worse. We can’t take off tonight.” 

Gasps and murmurs filled the plane. I checked the temperature again. -38 degrees? It dropped so much since I’d last looked. 

“Why even waste our time boarding us?” One irate lady behind me said. “It’s like they aren’t even trying to be considerate.” 

“I knew we weren’t taking off tonight.”

“If you’re going to make us board the plane and wait for 2 hours, the least you could do is try to take off!”

“Why can’t we just go anyway and take the risk?”

“Yeah!” Came a chorus of agreements from around the plane. “Take the risk!”

I, on the other hand, did not sympathize with this idea. I wanted to live and I appreciated the discretion of the pilot to not risk my life. But I couldn’t help but feel a little bit frustrated, too. I could understand why that lady was irate. I was just trying to hold onto what little decency I could muster and not blame the pilot. After all, it’s not like a human can control the weather. However, the damage was done and the descent into madness had begun. 

We drove back to the gate and deboarded with our belongings. By this point it was 11:30 PM local time, and I had been awake since this time zone’s equivalent of 7:30 AM.  Understandably, I was starting to get a little tired. A long line had formed at the customer service desk that stretched from gate C33 to past the shopping center and into the opposite wing. I knew I had a long night ahead of me. 

Stress, irritability, and irrationality filled the airport, enveloping me in chaos. There were at least 1000 people in front of me and still another 500 or more behind me. The amount of lives that were displaced was unbelievable, and I only saw less than one sixth of the displacement. The line creeped forward. If I were in a race with a snail and I had this handicap, the snail would win, no doubt about it. 

Some people had already given up and found spots in chairs or along the wall and set up their carry ons as pillows to get a little rest and escape the chaos for a while. They looked homeless. In a way, they were. Disheveled from travel, accepting whatever space they could find to get through the night. Stranded–who knows where they were going to or coming from. The Christmas vacations of millions ruined right at the beginning or the end. This only added to the stress and panic. Madness filled the air more than it had in the plane, and it was toxic and contagious. There was no escaping it. 

My adrenaline started to wear off and the realization hit me: I am in an extremely unfamiliar place with no money for a hotel, food…clothing. I don’t have any clothes! I only had the clothes on my back, a travel blanket, a couple light snacks, and my phone to keep me occupied. Thank God I brought my charger. 

I felt so alone. Babies and toddlers screamed around me, one woman had six kids in line with her and given they were in line, it told me there wasn’t someone traveling with her to hold the spot in line and let them grab seats and get some rest. She was all on her own and I couldn’t imagine it. Other people became visibly annoyed at the incessant wails of some of the children, but I just pitied them. One child in particular was especially inconsolable. He just wanted to go home. Me, too, buddy. Me, too. 

I did the only thing I could feasibly think to do. I called my father. He had always been my financial safety net and I hated asking him for money, but I knew he wouldn’t let me down and I was desperate. By this point, however, it was 2:30 AM his time and he would definitely be asleep. 

He didn’t answer, as I was expecting, and I left him a message:

“Hey dad,” I said through tears and stifled voice cracks. “There was a problem. There was a big storm and the entire airport is shut down. I don’t know what to do and I’m scared. I’m waiting in line to reschedule my flight. Dad, I don't have any clothes or anything. I don’t have money for a hotel, I don’t know what to do.” I tried my best to keep my composure. I was an adult and I needed to act like it. “Please wake up soon. Please call me back.” 

I was on the verge of sobbing but I held my breath as much as I could and silently let the tears run down my cheeks. 

Eventually, I made it to the front of the line. It was 3:30 AM now and I’d been awake for close to 20 hours at this point. I was irritated when they told me that my flight had automatically been rescheduled to my original flight on Christmas Day–which meant I would be stuck in Denver for four days and I currently had no plan and I never needed to wait in line for four hours.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said before scoffing incredulously and walking away. I felt bad about how I treated them. They were just doing their best in this stressful situation, it couldn’t have been easy for them, either. And while I wasn’t the rudest person there, I didn’t need to add to it. 

My dad called me back shortly after I left the customer service desk, relief filling me. Thank God for the time difference and his habit of going into work super early. 

He asked me when my flight had gotten rescheduled to and told me that he had already called a nearby hotel and explained the situation. He had a room reserved for a few days, but just needed to call them back to give them an exact check out date. I was so grateful that my dad was handling such a stressful problem for me. I had a bright light at the end of the tunnel. I had that spark of hope that everything was going to be okay again. 

I looked around me and at a glance I began to discern just how impactful this experience was: The disheveled mother attempted to comfort her distraught child while she cradled an infant and four other children sat around her; The kept business man, visibly annoyed at his situation, but still busily typed away at his computer; The man huddled up against the wall, his cheeks damp as if he’d cried himself to sleep. 

I was grateful I was taken care of and I hoped the best for everyone else, if not for the necessities like food and shelter, then for the mental fortitude to overcome this. 

As I walked towards the exit of the airport to take the shuttle to the hotel, I saw hundreds of miserable people who weren’t as lucky as I was to have gotten a hotel for the next few nights. The moans and wails from the displaced haunted me as I left to wait for the shuttle.  

I arrived at the hotel, exhaustion filling every part of me. How long had I been awake? I didn’t care anymore. The warmth of the lobby made me feel more at ease. I briefly explained the situation to the lady at the front desk. She smiled at me and said, “You’re the one I’m waiting for. I’ve been talking to your dad. Everything is all taken care of.” She handed me my room key and directed me towards the elevator. “Go get some sleep, you’ve had a really rough night.”