I had a sad occasion for travel a couple weeks ago. Before leaving LA I learned that my connection in Minneapolis would be delayed. When I arrived in MN I confirmed on the monitors that the departing flight would still be delayed. I decided to wander around the airport for a little while looking for a good place to eat…or, hopefully, a place to get a massage. I learned there was a massage place and even a coupon to use there. I hustled over to the correct terminal and asked if they thought I had time to squeeze in a massage. We settled on a 20-minute chair massage instead of a longer service and I sank into the chair. I confided to the massage therapist, “I’m choosing massage over food for my layover.”
Ahhh….Hmmmm…..It felt so nice to have a little massage time. As I relaxed I heard all the hustle and bustle of the airport around me and smiled that there was a little oasis in the middle of it here in the massage chair. My muscles were happy and my spirit was feeling soothed. I got up and paid for my massage. I was a little sad to sling my heavy backpack on my freshly massaged shoulders, but I didn’t care too much.
I was 10 feet out of the massage shop when I heard an overhead announcement cheerfully advising travelers that my flight was back on schedule and ready for an immediate departure. WHAT!?!
I took off running. Of course the massage shop was in a different terminal than my gate. I ran, slugging my heavy backpack, shaking off any slow-me-down relaxation vibe. I tell you, it is hard to sprint after a massage. Running, running, running I made it to my departing gate. The door was closed. There were no airline personnel at the desk. Things looked dire. I ran to the adjacent gate and huffed that I was on that flight. “No you’re not. That flight is closed. You missed it.” I muttered something less than cordial and headed to the airline’s help desk. Luckily the nice airline put me on another flight to my destination and I arrived shortly after the delayed flight would have put me there. I met my family and everything turned out fine.
But, lest you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I warn you that this is NOT a good time to get a massage. At first I was going to keep it a secret, but it made such a great story I couldn’t resist tattling on myself. Have you ever heard of an airline changing a flight to back on schedule like that? I guess I should be glad they can be that flexible. Lesson learned friends.