Two weeks ago I was assigned a round trip from Atlanta to Oklahoma City and back. It would be the last Delta Connection flight into Oklahoma City and the first one out the next morning, which translated to a five-and-a-half-hour layover. Officially these kinds of trips are called “continuous duty overnights” because we are on-duty the entire time, even when at the hotel. For obvious reasons, their vernacular name is “naps.”
The weather along the route was forecast to contain occasional thunderstorms, but we were able to past them. It was not until we neared Oklahoma City that we found another thunderstorm—with tops at 60,000 feet, spitting hail and 45-knot wind shear at the surface. We were not about to tangle with that. Having insufficient fuel to enter a holding pattern and wait it out, we elected instead to land at nearby Tulsa. There we waited, as did the passengers. Adding to the misery, the FBI and TSA were conducting a practice in the airport and so the passengers were barred from going inside. Only after we were there for an hour and a half did the airport authorities finally cordon off an area inside where the passengers could go. I have to give them credit for being very patient and understanding. Only one man said a word at all, and he elected to rent a car and drive to his destination.
Finally after three hours the coast was clear. In just thirty minutes we were at the gate in Oklahoma City, relieved and exhausted. We would only be there for two hours before departing again for our return flight to Atlanta. We could have stayed on the plane and tried to sleep there, or go to the hotel the company had already arranged and get less but better sleep. We chose the latter. I managed to get an hour-and-a-half that night, and then we were on our way back to the airport.
The return flight went smoothly. No further complications, and in spite of nearly no sleep, I was awake and alert. Thank goodness. Once back in Atlanta I was released to my off days, so instead of going back to my “crash-pad” apartment to, what else, crash, I got on the first flight back to Salt Lake City and slept rather soundly once airborne.
In the end everything worked out, but it was a rough trip. Maybe it was destined to be so. After all, the date was Friday the 13th.
The weather along the route was forecast to contain occasional thunderstorms, but we were able to past them. It was not until we neared Oklahoma City that we found another thunderstorm—with tops at 60,000 feet, spitting hail and 45-knot wind shear at the surface. We were not about to tangle with that. Having insufficient fuel to enter a holding pattern and wait it out, we elected instead to land at nearby Tulsa. There we waited, as did the passengers. Adding to the misery, the FBI and TSA were conducting a practice in the airport and so the passengers were barred from going inside. Only after we were there for an hour and a half did the airport authorities finally cordon off an area inside where the passengers could go. I have to give them credit for being very patient and understanding. Only one man said a word at all, and he elected to rent a car and drive to his destination.
Finally after three hours the coast was clear. In just thirty minutes we were at the gate in Oklahoma City, relieved and exhausted. We would only be there for two hours before departing again for our return flight to Atlanta. We could have stayed on the plane and tried to sleep there, or go to the hotel the company had already arranged and get less but better sleep. We chose the latter. I managed to get an hour-and-a-half that night, and then we were on our way back to the airport.
The return flight went smoothly. No further complications, and in spite of nearly no sleep, I was awake and alert. Thank goodness. Once back in Atlanta I was released to my off days, so instead of going back to my “crash-pad” apartment to, what else, crash, I got on the first flight back to Salt Lake City and slept rather soundly once airborne.
In the end everything worked out, but it was a rough trip. Maybe it was destined to be so. After all, the date was Friday the 13th.
2 comments:
At least you didn't have to try and land in that! I guess it's one of the less joyous parts of the job.
What a beautiful picture. Did you take that?
Husband is from Oklahoma - north of OKC. I was there for a few storms and they can get scary. There is literally NOTHING to stop the wind.
I'm glad that everything worked out for you guys and you could enjoy your vacation (despite the illnesses).
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