Well, that happened.

December 21, 2022

A most wonderful friend invited me to visit them in Victoria, BC for Christmas this year, and within 24 hours of it being mentioned, I was all booked. I was set to fly out on December 21, 2022, at 7pm from Pearson to the Calgary airport, to connect there 1.5 hours later, and to be in jolly ol’ Victoria by midnight Victoria time on December 22.

As you may have guessed by the unenthusiastic title, as well as the news outlining all of the nightmares people are facing this holiday travel season because of whack weather, it most assuredly did not go as planned. How to best go through this story — in order of fuckery, I suppose.

Fuckery Part A
I’d pre-booked myself an Aeroport Limo car to get me to Pearson, which was a nice treat, but in truth is just a cab that happens to know the route and gates well. If you ever need to use them, I recommend them, at a relatively reasonable flat rate of $47 including HST from downtown Toronto to Pearson. About an hour before it was to pick me up, my flight was delayed 1.5 hours, so I called Aeroport Limo and asked them if they could come 45 minutes later than planned. They sure could, so I was all set!

During the wait, I was anxious. But, the kind of anxious that was nearly debilitating, because my thoughts were all over the place and my stomach hurt, it was all in a jumble. Turns out my gut was telling me something that I maybe should have listened to.

Fuckery Part B
As one does, I got to the airport, tried to find security, and went on through. I am a proud owner of a Nexus pass, which made this whole process go much more smoothly. Now, I am not a small person, and let me explain why that just came up out of the feckin’ blue — more often than not, in all of the travelling I have been lucky to do in my life, my bags get searched. I suspect, though it could be me being sensitive, but I suspect that it’s because I am always larger than any staff member at security, and that I am perhaps seen as a threat. Maybe not, but eight times out of ten, my bag is “randomly” selected to be searched. So, after having had to sit on my bag to close it at home, it was now being opened by security, and nearly everything was being taken out, and the edges of the bag being swabbed for some form of deadly weapon or substance residue.

Not shockingly — nada. I clearly did not have anything weird going on in the bag, and they let me go, to repack and literally re-sit on my bag to close it. I got to the gate, got me some Tim Horton’s (honey cruuuuuuller, baby!), and sat myself down for three hours, went for a walk or two to stretch my legs, and finally got on the plane.

Ya’ll know what? We got to Calgary without a single issue. Winning at life, I thought. I thought, “Wow, all of that anxiety for nothing. Typical Hayley, going rogue and getting all worked up for nothing.”

Yeah…

Fuckery Part C
I exit the plane to find that the exact gate that my connecting flight would be at was the gate that I exited the plane into. What wonderment was this! How easy. How simple. How perfect. As it turned out, the same exact plane that I just got off of was the exact plane that I would be getting back onto to go to Victoria, in only 1 hours time.

Now, don’t get excited, at all.

It was around 12am Calgary time, so 2am Toronto time, and I had been up since 8am T.O time for work that day, then in the cab at 4pm, then delayed at Pearson, then on the plane, and then in Calgary. The airport had one small shop open, think a mini Circle K, and so I bought a pack of Cheese-Its and two bottles of water, and found myself a lovely patch of floor to sit on, as all chairs were full.

The flight to Victoria had been delayed an hour, in my assumption, to accommodate the people like me who had been delayed in Toronto by 1.5 hours (as the layover was only 1.5 hours). How selfish my wee brain was to think that. How utterly absurd. As the flight crew started to have first class people line up (one of which I was not), they picked up the announcement phone thingy, and said, “I am only the messenger. I have to tell you that your flight has been delayed two more hours.”

To say that people were annoyed would be an understatement, as 100+ people had begun to line up, as one does when the plane starts to board.

They all dissipated, and as I was in section three (last to board), my section was long to board even if we actually had been boarding, so I was still on the floor. I remained on the floor. I tried to sleep with my head perched on my hard case suitcase, purse tucked between my chest and arms crossed, and an alarm set on my watch just in case I dozed off.

I didn’t.

After those two hours, an announcement was made that the pilots that were going to fly us to Victoria were just getting off of another flight, and had to go through security and customs, but because it was so busy, they were not able to be rushed to the front of either line. I called severe amounts of bullshit (in my head, so as to not make a scene), and I was proven right 1.5 hours from then.

Fuckery Part D
This part of the fuckery streams from the one before, but deserves its own section.

At approximately 3:30am Calgary time, as we were all desperately awaiting an announcement from the folks behind the counter, and people had started crowding it, this lovely woman who has been so kind to everyone, got on the intercom and said, “I am so, so, so sorry to announce, as you can now see on the screen behind me…” and she started to cry. She couldn’t keep talking. She walked away, and her coworker came on and finished saying that the flight that we’d been waiting hours for was cancelled.

The crowd was severely unimpressed, and I suspect because this had been happening all over the airport for at least a day, they had staffed up and five new staff we had never seen, including a security guard, had shown up.

No one pitched a fit, thought here were a few loud voices heard.

A piece of shit got on the intercom, and he appeared to be employed by WestJet. I sure hope he isn’t anymore, because what he chose to say to a group of 100+ people whose holiday had just effectively been ruined was, “We have no control over your flights. You will eventually get an email assigning you new flights. We have no control over your hotels. You have to find one and pay for it, and WestJet will reimburse you up to $150 a night once you go through their website process. You have to contact them. No one here can help you. If you live here, go home. All checked luggage is on the plane, and you cannot have it. You will have to wait until someone from that department contacts you to see when you can have your bags.”

He didn’t stop there. He continued, “And since your flight has been cancelled, you now technically do not have a ticket with WestJet, and you have to leave.”

You guys, the sheer fact that I am not writing this from I-punched-a-guy-square-in-the-mouth-because-he’s-a-heartless-shitbag prison is an actual miracle.

I get that he has a job to do, and that the last day or so for him must have been a mess what with the storms, etc. but we have one woman crying because she feels so bad, and then a sociopath coming up and basically telling us to fuck off, and that WestJet has absolutely zero responsibility or response for what just happened.

The crowd didn’t move an inch. We all stayed and stared at him in rage and disbelief.

Then I hear someone say, “The hotels are sold out. There is nowhere for us to go.” So, because no one heard that person, I put my hand up in the crowd, as this man was repeating all of his previous bullshit. He ignored me, par for the asshole course I guess. However, a lovely woman who worked there found me in the crowd a minute later and asked me what my question was.

She was a damn dream. I was so grateful for her.

Fuckery in Reverse
This wonderful employee was kind enough to come over and be extremely respectful, which I reciprocated. I said, “I understand the situation. I am not from here, I have never been here, and all of the hotels are sold out. Where can I sleep in the airport?” At that exact same time, another passenger came over and said, “I found a hotel! It has ten rooms, and it’s a 30 minute drive from here! Here’s the number, call and reserve a room, and we can take a cab over together!

I thanked both woman profusely, like, a lot, and then called the hotel. I got a room! I didn’t even care if the room was a bathroom with a kids bed. It was a room.

Me and this woman saw that a 7-11 was open inside the airport exit area, so I bought four bottles of water, and one of every snack I could argue would make a meal, because we had literally no clue what would happen next, and had no actual meal in many, many hours. We had no ticket for a new flight, no idea when we would hear from WestJet to get a new flight ticket, and no idea when the next flight out would be.

There were rumblings of December 26 as the earliest.

So, this wonderful woman Shannon, the one who told me about the hotel, we hopped in a cab. We debated waiting for a cheaper one, because the guy was asking $85 for a 25 minute drive, but it was then 4am-ish (Calgary time), -41 degrees outside, and we were dead on our feet tired.

We took the cab. We got to the hotel. We each got our rooms from this lovely angel of a woman named Diane. We exchanged numbers, and we went to our rooms.

I was on the phone with Expedia for TD for an hour once I put my bags down, as they had put me on hold to get a hold of WestJet (I had booked WestJet via Expedia for TD). They said that they couldn’t get a hold of WestJet, for obviously reasons (everyone and their mother calling), so they would call me back as soon as they had a resolution, which could be 2-7 hours. Fine with me, I had no other choice, nowhere else to go, and I was extremely lucky to be sitting on a bed instead of on the floor of an airport.

Fuckery in Reverse, But Then More Fuckery
It was around 5:30am Calgary time, and I was so, so tired. I only managed to get about 1.5 hours of sleep when my phone rang and it was Expedia for TD. They had a seat for me on a 3:30pm flight, back to Toronto.

I had said in my initial chat with Expedia that if there were no flights out to Victoria for days, then please see if there were any flights back home. During this second conversation, the person said, “We stopped looking for flights to Victoria once we got to December 26. There are none.”

I was so, so looking forward to seeing my friend, her kids, her hubs, her sister, and the dog, that I was immediately sad, but was also immediately aware that the hotel I was in might not have space for me to that many more nights, that all other hotels were likely now booked by people like me, and either way, I didn’t want to be alone in a hotel in -40 degree weather for an unknown amount of days, without a guarantee of a flight to Victoria, when my flight back from Victoria to Toronto was only two days after the 26th, on Dec 28, and those (Victoria to Vancouver, Vancouver to Toronto), too, might be cancelled.

He then said that they had that flight I mentioned back to Toronto at 3:30pm that day, but that I had to be at the airport by 12pm, because I had to line up to get a ticket.

So, on 1.5 hours of sleep after being awake and through all of the above for 24+ hours, I got showered, cleaned up, repacked, booked an Uber to the airport, and checked out. I got to the airport around 12:15pm (the Uber was early, which I was so happy about). I stood in line at the WestJet counter for about 45 minutes, then it was my turn!

A lovely gentleman at the desk, who was clearly on edge, for good reason, heard my short tale, and said that yes indeed he did have a ticket for me.

I literally did a little dance. A jig, as it were. However, he said that the 3:30pm flight was delayed until 6pm.

Sweet mother of shitballs and vinegar.

Fine. I have no choice. I will take the ticket and kill 5 hours in the same airport I spent the same amount of time in just about 5 hours ago. I got my seat / ticket, got my bag, and went to security.

Even More Fuckery
And here we go again, but this time, not only was my bag searched, but I was pulled over and swabbed.

I was flagged “randomly”, and a woman swabbed my hands, wrists, waist and ankles. I asked what they look for with that device (in a nice, innocent way), and she said, “Things like bomb residue.”

COOL STUFF, NEW FRIEND!

Turns out, no bomb residue on me. Yup. No shit.

Then, I got to watch the security dude take my bag apart, again, and swab it, again. And guess what? Again, nothing. I was free to go and pack my bag all over again.

I finished doing that, and walked my way to the completely full, not-a-chair-to-be-found gate. I had eaten only Cheese-Its, water and a Passion Flakey in about 12 hours, and was about to lose it. I went to the Starbucks I saw (all other restaurants, of which there were two, were packed, with lines to get a table), and ordered one of every sandwich (literally), two pieces of cake, and a tea. I had no clue how long this wait for the flight would be, as the previous night was a promised flight to the point that we were nearly on the plane before we were told it was delayed, then cancelled, so I was getting a ton of food, because I didn’t know when my next opportunity would be. Who knew if the Starbucks would sell out!

I sat on the ground, I began to eat a sandwich, and I started to cry. I didn’t conjure the tears out of sadness, they literally just did their own thing. It was slightly out-of-body, because I watched it happen, and let it happen. It wasn’t a complete sob, but it was, I think, a very tired and hungry brain and body. So, I let them do their thing, in a calm way, while getting some of the sandwich in me, and sipping my tea.

The tears subsided on their own after some structured breathing, and I decided to lay down on the floor, and try to get some sleep.

Turning it Around!
As I laid there for about 10 minutes, with my flight still many, many hours away, I heard an announcement for some flight number that wasn’t mine, that was starting the boarding to Toronto. I laid still, and then thought, “I’m getting on that fucking plane!!!”

I bounced up like a bat out of hell, got my coat on, and followed the announcement voice to the gate it was coming from. I stood there for 35 minutes while they boarded everyone who actually had a ticket, and then met a lovely woman. She, too, did not have a ticket for the flight, but wanted to get onto the same flight. She had been through cancellations and delays for three days, so, I told her to go first. I was aware that she would likely get a last seat, if there even was one at all, and that I would have to stay behind, not knowing if I would get out of the province in less than six days, but, she was in a worse situation than I was, and looked so sad.

As it turns out, my complete and utter insistence for never checking luggage paid off. It turns out there were enough seats on the plane for her and I, but, she had checked luggage, and so they wouldn’t let her on, because her luggage was already on another plane.

I felt terrible for her.

I stepped up to the desk, and said, “Is there perhaps a Christmas miracle to be had? Is there any chance there’s a seat for me on this plane"?”

The clearly distraught and tired woman (all fair) said, “Let me call and see if I can get you on.”

IT WASN’T A NO! I was so excited, even at the chance. I heard her say to the person on the phone, “No, she’s not lying. I really don’t think she’s lying.”, which I later found out was about the fact that people were lying about not having checked luggage to get on planes. All over the airport, people were abandoning their luggage just to get on their flight. I get it!

She got a “yes”, and she gave me my initial ticket, just with a new seat Sharpie’d on it. I didn’t know the flight number, the flight landing time, anything, but I knew I was going home! I had watched as the four people ahead of me, who had proper tickets, checked their carry-on because there was no room on the plane, as it was sold out.

This woman let me on, with my carry-on, so I asked, “Do you need me to check it? I’m fine with that!” To which she said, “No, there’s room.” I don’t know what that was about, but I was more than grateful. I was elated. Flying high. Happy to be alive. Happy to be me. Happy to be going home.

I got on the plane, and not only was there room, but I got my own row! They had upgraded a woman with a cast on her foot and her husband to first class, so a man beside me moved over, and we each got three seats to ourselves.

You guys. I don’t how to describe how grateful I felt in those moments. I was on a flight two hours before my rescheduled one was supposed to initially leave but was delayed, was going to land in Toronto before the terrible storm started, and didn’t have to check my bag!?

Unheard of.

In that situation — unheard of.

The End
We landed at around 8pm Toronto time, I got Subway in the airport, got in a cab, and was home by 8:45pm. I was so epically grateful to myself for having jumped up and asked to get on that plane, because the one I was meant to be on was delayed a lot more, and the one at the same time the following night was already cancelled. Who knows how long I would have been in Calgary. I think there are still people stuck there, so, I am seriously, genuinely and greatly grateful for all of the things that went right in a pile of things that went wrong.

Now as I wade through the reimbursement forms, cancelling my AirBNB, cancelling my Air Canada flight back from Victoria next week, that I clearly won’t be on, I am out a bunch of money, out a wonderful Christmas with my amazing and patient friend, but I am grateful for all of the things that went right!

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!