Orlando Airport Ordeal
by: Howard Eskildsen
Our nine-year-old granddaughter was heading to Florida from Oregon for a 10 day stay with us. She had just been to camp in Oregon, had barely had time to repack and was on her way, and just in time.
A tropical wad, also known as a tropical depression, had turned into a storm that threatened to become a hurricane was also targeting Florida. Fortunately, only outer bands showered the turnpike as we hurried towards Orlando International Airport.
We had planned our trip with more than an hour and a half extra time allowed for traffic backups which are the norm for Florida’s Turnpike. Little did we know that the turnpike with its slowdowns would turn out to be the least of our worries.
After creeping through the expected road delays accompanied by heavy showers, we emerged onto dry pavement a few miles from the airport with more than an hour to spare. Quite proud of ourselves, we headed towards the appropriate parking lot with visions of quick parking and easing our way to her gate.
WRONG! The parking lot was blocked, and a tin-toothed attendant mumbled something about it being full and we just needed to go to the South Economy Parking Lot. And just where was that? (That’s what I actually asked the attendant, but it certainly was not what I was thinking.) She gave us a slip of paper with the address of the lot and a QR code for Google Map.
Fairy entered the address into Waze and fine, we were off to the parking lot somewhere on the other side of the airport. Waze seemed to do well until it said to turn into a lane for “official vehicles only.” WHAT?!? Well, it was Waze, and it always knows the way, doesn’t it? I prepared to turn and when it said, “Turn here,” I turned only to find out that when she said “here” she didn’t mean the here that was here, she meant the here that was another 100 feet over there.
On the wrong road and skillfully articulating my disappointment aloud, we followed her directions to get back to where we were supposed to have turned. That involved going back to the terminal, past the first parking lot from which we had been banned earlier and coming back around. Ok, only 15 minutes lost, we still had almost an hour to meet Tove´.
Back around the circuit we skillfully turned at the “there, here” and not the “here, here.” Sure enough, there appeared to be a parking lot, and we were instructed to turn again, right into a gate that would not allow us to pass. More succinct articulations were uttered as I backed out and followed the circuit once more around the airport.
This time we looked for signs for any “South Parking,” since there were no signs for “South Economy Parking,” and followed them instead of continuing on our misguided Waze. As we tried to turn into South C Parking, it was also blocked. The attendant was very kind as she tried to explain to this red-faced driver with a forced smile and steam coming out of his ears where to go to park. When I explained that this was my third time around this god-forsaken-airport (again, not what I was actually thinking) and we were about to miss our granddaughter’s arrival, she allowed us to park there on the very top level and told how to get to the shuttle to the terminal. Whew! We still had over half an hour to make it, and it should be easy from here on out.
WRONG AGAIN! We pulled into the upper area and after a little searching found a car backing out, so we promptly took their spot. A glaring blue sign read “Low Energy Vehicles Only!” Well animal excrement! Not wanting to get towed, we went to the very top deck and found a spot where even low life like us were allowed to park.
We passed a curious creature with a large backpack flat on their face with knees doubled underneath them and as we entered shuttle terminal. Relieved that no bombs exploded as we passed by, we boarded the shuttle, which promptly took us to the terminal, and after hustling through what seemed like a 300-yard gauntlet of large, aimless beings, we managed to get the pass for Fairy to go to the gate to meet Tove´. Great just barely half an hour to go, maybe less; all Fairy had to do was clear security.
An interminable maze of humanity stretched for nearly as far as the eye could see in the security area. Fairy approached the lady by the security entrance and asked if this is where she needed to go. She was told yes, but this was not the end of the line, it was way over there, and pointed to a hoard of travelers backed up all the way to the food courts.
Fairy obediently hustled to the end of line that was waiting to get into the interminable line for security. After a little thought I asked the lady how long the security line was from where we were standing. “About an hour,” was her reply. Again, the panic alarms, bells and whistles went off in my head and for a moment I envisioned the evening news report of “Dozens injured by fall out as person’s head explodes at airport security.”
Then a strange sort of calm descended, like when you knew should have died, but you’re still actually alive, and all the words that should never, ever said to a security agent were whisked back into the closets of my brain. I calmly stated that our granddaughter was arriving in less than 20 minutes and there was no way Fairy could make it in time. No problem,” replied the lady, “just have her go to special needs line and pointed the direction.”
I decided to quicky follow her directions before considering whether or not I was hallucinating, and before long, Fairy was at the special needs line and taken right in. I stopped by the lady at the security to thank her once again and then went to the waiting area where I promptly melted into a quivering lump of goo.
After several minutes of emotional detox, I slowly returned to my normal, semi-human form and then went and purchased a diet coke to get all the mental machinery running again. Before long, Fairy and Tove´ appeared exiting the secure area. What a terrific sight, that I had nearly given up on ever seeing either one again.
As we made our way to the shuttle and to the parking lot, more clouds gathered, and a few raindrops began to fall. The storm, maybe even a hurricane, was approaching. Bring it on, it was nothing compared to the maelstrom through which we had just passed.
Eskildoodle Photos and Feelings 