You guessed right: Detroit! Goddamn, this town sucks me back in like the bog surrounding the Legion of Doom's Darth-Vader-helmet headquarters. OK, here's the rundown for THIS trip...
I got to Newark for my flight (that airport needs some more fucking signs telling you where the fuck everything is) for my 7:55-10:00 flight into Detroit, connecting to Lansing, MI at 10:30. The flight is delayed until 8:30, giving exactly zero minutes connect time. And we knew, Beth and I both fucking knew, when I bought the ticket that this was exactly where the trip was going to go wrong. And it did. Now, I am in the center of the Delta/Northwest terminal looking around at half a dozen completely ghost town desks. Besides the blinking light telling me to see about my 'cnx' there ain't a fucking soul that's going to help me figure this shit out to be seen. I called useless customer service in lieu of anything better to do and was on hold for a good ten-fifteen minutes stretch. Finally, a couple of agents show up, and of course take several minutes to get their equipment online. FUCK, I am thinking at the top of my brain's voice.
NOw for the inevitable news: no way can I make the connection. Being as it was weather rather than overbooking, engine failure or other act of incompetence, they are not responsible for what happens to me next.
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