You know vacation is over when you get up at 4:30 a.m. to finish packing, shower, eat breakfast, return the rental car, ride rental car shuttle, and make it to the airport by 7:15 a.m. Yawn!
Everything at the airport was going swimmingly: printed our tickets, checked our two free bags each on Southwest Airlines, bought food for seven hours on the plane (no meals), breezed through security, used the restrooms, had more breakfast and made it to the gate. The incoming plane arrived on time.
About that time, I brought out my book to read and looked at the boarding pass to see what boarding group we were in. Hmmm...no boarding group. Why? I read the piece of paper in my hand more closely. It was basically a piece of paper that got us through security, but it WASN'T a boarding pass. It said, "See gate agent for boarding pass."
I walked up to the gate agent and exchanged my piece of paper (which looked like a boarding pass) for a real Boarding Pass. Bob also needed to exchange his Security paper for a Boarding Pass. He watched the luggage while I exchanged mine.
When he went up to the gate agent, he was told the flight was oversold. At that point they couldn't give him a Boarding Pass and they told him to check back later. We weren't sure he was going to make the plane.
They boarded groups A and B. I waited at the counter with Bob. I gave him his food for the plane in case we got separated. He gave me the ticket for the shuttle back to our RV in San Antonio. The counter agent told me I could get on the plane and Bob would make it too.
I got in line and there were four or five people behind me. Bob was very last in line.
When we boarded the plane, I searched every available seat and there were none until I got to the very last row, where I took the very last seat. I turned around and the people behind me were headed back to the front of the plane. I figured they had over-counted somehow and the last four or five people had to take a later flight. I couldn't figure that out since the gate agent said everyone with a boarding pass would get on the flight. But then, they had also said the computers were down that morning, so in my mind there was maybe a glitch in the count.
I settled in and ran through scenarios in my brain about how Bob was going to fly to San Antonio and when he would finally arrive. Our flight had two stops (no plane change).
In Oakland, CA, after the Oakland-bound passengers had de-planed, we were told we could change seats. I remarked to the flight attendant that I didn't think my husband made it on the plane because there were no seats left when I took the last seat. She asked if he had a numbered boarding pass and I said I believed he did. She said if he had a numbered boarding pass then he made it on the plane. I couldn't imagine where he was sitting because every single seat had been occupied when I went by.
When it was time to move, sure enough, there was Bob in a window seat in about the tenth row. I moved up and asked him how he got that seat. He said three people had been sitting in that row and they got up and moved. He thinks they were pilots and they sat in jumpseats or the cockpit because when the flight landed in Oakland, they came back and collected their bags from the overhead bin.
I can tell you from personal experience that the back row of the plane has narrower, very uncomfortable seats that don't recline. Thankfully, I was only in that seat for two hours to Oakland. Once I moved up next to Bob, the seat was much wider and it reclined. Ahhh.
When we made it to San Antonio at 5:35 p.m., our shuttle bus was waiting to take us back to our RV. Our petsitter, Bee of PurrWaggles Pet Sitting Service, had changed the kitty box and vacuumed the 5er that morning. It looked so nice when we came home. We are happy with her service. She even sent us email updates on our fur-kids when we were in Australia. The kitties are happy and well-adjusted.
Since our refrigerator wasn't stocked, we went to dinner at Nicha's Mexican Restaurant, then came home and watched "Hawaii 5-0."
So much for our exciting travel day.
