The flying, oh god, the flying.

The flight home for break two weeks ago: absolutely fine. Considering my luck, it made me suspicious. No delays, no lost bags. A couple screaming babies, but, hey. It got me there on-time.
Today, flying back to school? Heh.

The originally theory was this: A flight from Philly to Minneapolis at 8:30. An hour layover. Then Minneapolis to Albuquerque, getting me into Albuquerque around 1:30, back on campus by three or so.

What happened:

I got to the airport and everything was fine until I was actually on the plane. It started with us waiting a couple minutes for them to make some sort of repair. Then a few more minutes. Then the repair was made, and we were waiting for someone to sign off on it. Then a few more minutes waiting. Then, about half an hour after we should have been in the air, the information that it would be at least another 45 minutes. Because no one qualified to inspect the repair was at the airport. Because why would they have qualified technicians, you know, at the airport?

So I called my father and asked him to check out my options, as I had clearly missed my connection on to Albuquerque. The airline (hint: NW) had no more flights from Minneapolis to Albuquerque. Another one (hint: AA) had a Philly -> Dallas -> Albuquerque flight leaving at 11:45, arriving in Albuquerque around 4:30. I wait in line at the gate. Forever. I call the first airline, explain the situation. They agree it is problematic and put me on the AA flight. They tell me explicitly to go to the AA ticket counter. The line, where one person is at the podium, has not moved.

AA operates, in Philly, out of terminal A. NW operates out of terminal E. In order to get from one to the other one must walk about half a mile outside. I do so. I wait in line. The agent there says no, I need to go talk to the NW ticket counter. I walk back to terminal E. I wait in line. They also say I should've gone there first. "Here, give them this. They probably won't get your luggage in time, so if it's not in Albuquerque you'll need to file the claim with AA." I feel stupid. I again walk to terminal A. They look at the flight and say:

That flight's completely overbooked. I can't put you on it.

I, having woken far earlier than is healthy, laugh a bit and ask if she's kidding. She's not. But she can put me on a 1:30 flight to Dallas and then a five o'clock flight to Albuquerque. I say fine, because at this point, I do not care. I am late and would very much like to return to New Mexico, preferably today. She puts me on the flight, hands me my boarding passes, and says that they probably don't have my luggage. I know, I say. "If it's not in Albuquerque when you get there you need to file a claim with NW," they say. Hey, let's play "pass the passenger!".

I go upstairs. I wait in like at security. Since the computer thinks I just purchased my ticket three hours before the flight, that means I'm a terrorist and I get searched extra. There is a moment of terror as the TSA drone manhandles my violin, and a worse moment when I think he's going to smear whatever explosives-detecting chemical-laden swab over my baby (that would be the violin). In their exhaustive search of my person and my belongings they do not so much as open the violin case.

I spend the rest of the day playing "I should have been in Albuquerque x hours ago". It's a fun game. Both flights are extremely turbulent. I arrive in Albuquerque. I wait in line at the AA baggage office, because NW does not appear to have one, and I am very tired and would like to stop being in an airport. Finally, I thrust my bag-claim sticker at him, and say something along the lines of, "Here is a bag claim from an airline that is not yours, but I just flew your airline anyway. The bag does not appear to be here; it might be in Philly or Minneapolis or Dallas or someplace else altogether. I do not care where it is, I would like it to be in Santa Fe." He says it should be delivered to my dorm tomorrow morning. I begin to leave, then remember that my toothbrush (amongst other things, such as my math text book and, you know, clothing) is in my bag, which is not in the same airport as myself. I ask if they have any of those little toiletry kits. They do.

I finally get on the shuttle and get dropped off at school. I borrow my roommate's contact lens solution, as mine is in my suitcase (which is in a state that is not New Mexico). I call my parents to inform them that I am alive and in Santa Fe, write this up so I won't forget all the great fun I had, and though it is early, it is now time for me to go and lie in bed and attempt to read for all of thirty seconds before sleep consumes me.