Rick should be home right now. Instead, he's checked into a crappy hotel room in Houston, trying to sleep in between the roar of jets taking off nearby, and knowing he'll have to be up at the crack of dawn to go back to the airport to try again.
He was there, at the gate, at 3:30 this afternoon - hours before his flight was supposed to leave. He sat in those uncomfortable chairs and waited for hours, getting up to check the monitors occasionally to make sure his flight was still on time and all. Everything looked okay, and the gate sign said all the right things. He was starting to wonder why they hadn't boarded him yet, so he got up again to check the monitor - and they'd moved his flight to a different gate! In a different terminal! And made no announcement! He rushed up to the gate and said he would run to the new gate, but they told him not to bother - the plane was already late, and they refused to let him board. (And he wasn't the only one. There was a crowd of travelers sitting there, stunned to find out their plane was still at the airport and knew it was missing a group of passengers, but was insisting on leaving without them anyway.) Rick pitched a fit, as you can imagine, and Continental did not one thing to make it better. Not even an apology!
So Rick is sitting in Houston. His bag of tools, which would cost many dollars to replace, is circling the conveyor belt in Milwaukee. His truck, which I needed for farmer's market in the morning, is in the Milwaukee airport parking lot. His side of the bed is empty. And I am not happy with Continental.
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