Running on Empty (JSC135 Tweetup – Part 4)

It had been a long night and I was really looking forward to catching as much sleep as possible before heading back to the airport in just a couple of hours.  I was also looking forward to having something to drink as it was approximately 4 hours ago since the emergency landing had robbed the opportunity for liquid refreshment from my parched throat.  As we pulled into the hotel parking lot I didn’t see any lighted signs for a nearby convenience store so hopefully the hotel had a well-stocked vending machine.

As the taxi pulled up to the covered entrance of the hotel we once again saw another discouraging sight caused by our predicament.  There was a line out the front doors of other passengers waiting to be checked in.  It seems we went from the back of one line to the back of another.

“Crap!” exclaimed John.

“Well, at least we’re ahead of the other half of the line still waiting for the shuttle,” I said as optimistically as possible although John’s words better summed up my feelings.

Standing at the back of the line, just a few feet from where the taxi had dropped us off, we looked into the lobby to see the most miserable looking front desk attendant I have even seen.  She was the midnight shift and from the looks of things used these normally quiet hours of her job to catch up on her sleep.  Now she was trying to process 150 stranded travelers.

As if to taunt us, a giant, ornate clock hung on the wall over the front desk in the lobby.  Constantly it reminded us of just how late it was.  We were moving slow through the line and each minute that ticked off that clock was one less minute asleep in bed.

John’s mood had improved since we first arrived as one of our other alliance members from the airport was ahead of us.  They were hitting it off really well and carrying on quite a commotion.  This other alliance member was around John’s age and was traveling with his wife and another adult.  I was too tired to offer much to their conversation other than a polite smile when one of them said something that caused laughter among the others.

The lady behind the counter checked me in with the enthusiasm of a zombie.  John had checked in right before me in line and was politely waiting for me before heading up to his room.  I asked the hotel zombie if they had vending machines and she pointed to a hallway in the opposite direction of the elevators.  I didn’t want to leave John waiting, so I figured I’d go up with John, dump my bags in my room and then head back down to load up on bottles of fluid.  As we headed towards the elevator, our hotel zombie attendant managed to mutter a reminder about their continental breakfast in the morning.  Unfortunately, it didn’t start until 6:30am, about the time we were scheduled to start boarding our plane.  Regardless, I thanked her for the information and we headed for the elevators to our rooms on the third floor.

“I’m thinking 4:45 – I can call the taxi to be here by then and then we’re at the airport by 5pm,” said John as the elevator doors closed.

“Sure.  I suppose that would work.”

“I’m just going to take a quick nap and then take a shower to wake me up.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

I bid goodnight to John as we exited the elevator and walked to our rooms.  I threw my belongings in my room and headed straight back down to the lobby and to the opposite hallway where the vending machines were tucked away in a corner.

“Please let them have bottled water,” I thought to myself.  ”With today’s luck it will be nothing but soda.”

I arrived at the vending machine and laid eyes on the best sight of the day as it was full of bottled water.

“I’m finally going to have a drink – I haven’t had to pee since Florida!”

I pulled out my wallet and opened it up.  However, I was going to need more than seven cents and some lint.  Luckily the lobby had an ATM as well so I swiped my plastic and extracted enough money for plenty of water and a taxi ride in the morning… well, a taxi ride in two hours from now.

The smallest bill I now had was a ten dollar bill and the vending machine wasn’t going to except it.  I went back over to the front counter and waited yet again for a break in the line so I could see about breaking my bill into smaller amounts.  Luckily the zombie working the counter had just enough ones to make the switch.  She perked up a little as I thanked her again for assisting me.  Ones now in hand I went back to the vending machine and proceeded to cram each one of them into the refrigerated machine.  Each time the readout told me I had once again reached the inflated highway robbery price point, I pushed the big button and thrilled at the sound of “KA-Pluk, Brrabrrr-BOMP-BOMP kaBoom” as the bottle danced it’s way through the innards of the machine and into the receiving tray below.  There it was – it was finally mine!  Like an excited college student sneaking beer into his first dorm party, I anxiously touted my bottled treasures back up to my room.

After consuming as much water was I could I got ready for bed.

Cell phone alarm?  Check.

Bedside clock radio alarm?  Check.

Wake up call scheduled?  Check.

I was still holding out hope for my opportunity to fly the shuttle simulator and I wasn’t going to let oversleeping do me in after all I had been through so far.  It was 3am and I was finally in bed.  At 4:15am my alarms would be ringing so I could get up, shower and meet John for the taxi ride to the airport.  I still wasn’t sure how breakfast was going to get worked in, but despite my rumbling stomach demanding an answer now I knew that would just have to get improvised along the way.  I turned out the lights and tried to relax.

It might have only been 5 minutes, but it felt like it took an hour to fall asleep.

“Come on Brent, you’re really tired – go to sleep.”  I waited, but I was still awake.

“You don’t have time to unwind – just go to sleep.”  Still nothing.

“I’m sure the girl you met on Match.com will eventually call you back – now go to sleep!”

Eventually I fell asleep.

Approximately 1 hour later I was awake again.

“Well, that was refreshing,” I sarcastically mumbled as I shuffled towards the shower.

I met John on the way to the elevator.  Surprisingly, he looked alert and well rested.  Come to think of it, I never once saw him yawn the night before, so this further strengthened my belief that he was a physician.  Doctors are always alert and used to being on call during all hours of the day and night.  You never see a doctor yawn.

“Good morning,” I managed to say to John in the most un-grumpy voice I could muster.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

See, he’s a doctor, he’s asking how I’m feeling.  ”Well, the shower helped a little.”

“Yeah, I didn’t really sleep, but I mostly just wanted a shower so I’m good to go.  So, whataya say we go!”

We stepped off the elevator and walked out the front lobby doors only to see a small crowd of our fellow passengers already hanging out.

John looked around, “Oh geez, there’s already a crowd.  Well they’re waiting for the shuttle but I have a cab coming.  I’m not waiting…”

I was walking around trying to determine where the back of the line was when John stopped me, “No, stand over here, we have a cab coming.”

At that moment a yellow cab pulled up under the covered front entrance.

“Let’s go,” said John as he hurried over towards the cab.  It was clear that we were cutting line but there was confusion among the crowd as to who really was next.  There wasn’t so much a line as really a crowd randomly standing around.  Most of the others were exchanging questioning glances as to whether we were the rightful heirs to this cab.  I hesitated as John lurched ahead, feeling the stigma associated with being rude and cutting in line.

“This isn’t right,” I thought to myself as John urged me over.  I knew I owed him a cab ride and had already agreed to it.  And while we hardly knew each other, he was now my friend and had been stepping up to the plate for me.  I had picked my alliance with him last night.  Plus there was no way I was going to miss the plane for Houston.  I hung my head in embarrassment as I stepped forward towards the cab.

One of the other passengers took serious offense at our line cutting and addressed John directly, knowing that he was the one leading our charge.  ”What the popsicle do you think you’re doing?!  We were next.  This is a bunch of popsicle popsicle!”

Obviously, “popsicle” is a replacement for the true words expressed.

John shot back about having called to reserve a cab and how this one was ours.  A lot of verbal “popsicles” were thrown around and to make matters worse, John was arguing with our fellow airport alliance member that he was just chatting up a storm with in the hotel lobby 2 hours earlier.

I owed John my loyalty but he picked this battle.  I would get in the cab with him if he won, but was perfectly willing to let this taxi go.  Even though John had called for a cab, I felt we were in the wrong by assuming this cab was ours and I wasn’t going to get involved with the argument.

John’s bags were already in the trunk and although I stood passively by awaiting an outcome of the argument, the taxi driver pro-actively took my bags and put them in the trunk.  Something tells me the driver was used to these scenes before and knew the best way to resolve them was to get at least half the party on their way as soon as possible.  Two people can’t continue to argue if one of them has left.  Besides, he had fares to collect and that wouldn’t happen while we stood around fighting.

The wife of our angry detractor knew that John wasn’t going to budge.  She also knew that her husband wasn’t either and that he was already boiling red with anger.  ”Honey, let it go.  You need to just let it go.  You’re getting worked up.  You’re going to raise your blood pressure.”

“Blood pressure?” I thought to myself, “We could kill this guy with a heart attack.”  I didn’t like how this was playing out.

John finally said, “Why don’t we all go together.”

Perfect, why didn’t I think of that?

“There’s three of us,” said our detractor, “We won’t all fit.  And it’s the principle of the matter that you don’t understand.”

John was already in the cab and the driver was closing his door.  It was obvious they were seconds from pulling away and my bags were in the trunk.  I looked up from my shame and over to our detractor and his wife, gave as best a sympathetic look as I could and then entered the backseat of the cab.

“Wait, wait!  Can I join you too?  I’ll help with the fare.”  It appears one of our fellow travelers who was watching our ordeal decided there was room for one more.  ”Why waste space when there is so many of us trying to get to the airport.”

“It would be a shame to waste it,” agreed John.

Our new third party climbed inside and I felt a little better knowing we were accommodating at least one more traveler.  Of course this new addition would now have to share in our stigma.  As we pulled away I stole a quick glance to see the same bewildered look on everyone’s faces as I saw at the shuttle stand the night before at the airport.  Once again John and I were speeding off in a taxi, leaving our fellow passengers behind.

Before we pulled out of the parking lot I saw another yellow taxi pulling in.  I looked back and saw our detractor already stepping forward to flag it down and felt some relief for him.  Hopefully they don’t take up chase.

It was only a 5 minute ride from the hotel to the airport so by 5am I had paid for our cab and we were in the terminal on our way to our gate.  Something was quite different in the airport from just 2 hours earlier – it was packed.  Crowds of people were everywhere.  The small shops were open for business.  Announcements and music was playing over the PA system.  Uniformed employees walked throughout.  By golly, it was now an actual airport, filled with the life that was missing from its empty shell last night.

We wasted no time making our way to the security checkpoint.  This was the only thing that separated us from a flight to Houston.  While we were told we had a 7am flight, we also knew we were a last minute addition to the flight schedule.  Fears of a change in departure or gate crossed my mind.  Let’s just get there and then we can relax a little.

The line for security was massive.  Where did all these people come from?  We took up on place at the back of the crowd to begin our slow shuffle forward.  I wondered if John had a method to cut this line.

I had consumed much of my bottled water before leaving the hotel this morning but still carried with me what remained.  This would get me through the wait at the terminal gate, I figured.  However, I completely forgot that water is not allowed through security.  This was pointed out to me as we loaded our belongings into the receiving trays.  I watched as perfectly good – and paid for – water was whisked away and dumped in a trash can.  It was hard not to be insulted by this action.

By 5:45am we were through security and in our terminal gate for our flight – the same gate we were at last night.  The crowd was enormous, making the terminal feel much smaller than I had recalled it being.  We headed over to our assigned gate number.  The lighted sign above it advertised a different flight than ours – we weren’t going to Newark?  However, a handwritten sign on the gate counter stated our flight number, our 7am departure time and the word “Houston”.  The employee behind the counter made an announcement that the Newark flight had been moved to the gate next to us to accommodate our flight and a handful of confused travelers got up from their seats, grabbed their bags and hurried over to the other gate.  We had made it and I figured we would be boarding soon.

John and I decided to get something to eat before boarding.  Unfortunately, food choices in our immediate area were limited at this gate.  We had a Starbucks selling coffee and sugary muffins and a magazine gift shop that had nutrition bars and bottled drinks.  John aimed for the Starbucks but all that sugar grossed me out and I instead opted for the gift shop.

It took about 10 minutes to snake my way through the crowded and undersized gift shop.  I grabbed the largest bottle of water out of the cooler and picked a nutrition bar advertising its low sugar and all natural ingredients.  These two items alone set me back about $6.  I headed back to the gate and saw John still standing in line at the Starbucks shop.  To my surprise he was standing in line with our former alliance member and angry taxi detractor from earlier this morning.  They all were smiling and once again carrying on as they had in the hotel lobby the night before – or 3 hours ago to be exact.  It really didn’t feel like a new day, but rather an extension of the same day.  It might have been Tuesday morning, but it still felt like one really long Monday to me.

As I passed I could hear John’s voice boom out offering to pay for their coffee.  He intrigued me.  He made friends easily and enemies quickly, but in the end always came out on top and also managed to repair the messes he made along the way.  He wasn’t afraid to take, but also wasn’t afraid to give.  While my mild-mannered personality didn’t fit his, I felt he had traits I could apply to my own personal makeup by observing his behavior.  Every person you meet and every experience you have is an opportunity to learn and grow and these last two days were proving to be quite a fertile education.

As I walked back to our gate seating area, I was stopped by a familiar face.  ”I just wanted to thank you for your kindness last night and looking after me.”  It was my sleepy, foot-rubbing seat mate from the night before.  She looked much better now, well rested and alert.

“Oh?!” I was surprised and a little humbled by her gratitude.  ”I’m glad you made it – I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to wake up in time.”

“I never went to the hotel.  I slept on one of the benches in the airport and glad I did as I was able to sleep longer.”

“Well, I’m so glad to see you doing better.”

“I am, thank you again.  It meant a lot to me.”

I was still stunned as we parted.  I just watched her bags while she slept and woke her when it was time for our tickets.  I didn’t feel like it was anything to merit such praise, but I was grateful for her lift to my spirit.

John soon joined me back at the gate.  I was looking out the window to the plane that was sitting at the end of our gate’s jetway.  “I think this is the same plane we flew in on last night and I don’t think it has been fixed.  We should be boarding soon and I don’t see any activity around it.”

“I think you’re right,” John agreed.  The plane was facing us directly and John added, “I don’t see anyone in the cockpit.  Have you seen a flight crew board yet?”

“No, but look around the plane, there’s no ground crew or baggage handlers or anything.  I don’t think our replacement plane is here yet.”

We asked the employee at the counter, but only got confirmation that this was the flight for us and it was still scheduled for a 7am departure.  We were skeptical, but if that was the official word we would just have to take a seat and await boarding.  John had some reading material that he browsed while I checked in on the Twitter stream to hear about my excited Tweetup mates who were getting ready to head to the Gilruth Center for the start of the JSC Tweetup.  ”Wait for me!” I thought to myself as I started to wonder how long it would be until I was also there.

I was starving at this point as it had been 12 hours since dinner.  But I was too nervous about the flight and the notice on the nutrition bar proudly stating, “An excellent source of fiber” made we reconsider eating until later.  My body was already out of whack from the lack of sleep, so the last thing I wanted to do was load up on fiber before a questionable plane flight that might sit delayed on the tarmac as flight controllers tried to fit us in a busy flight schedule.  Even if we left on time, the thought of an airline toilet was less appealing to me than my existing hunger.  Besides, just as I had trouble sleeping last night despite the late hour due to being over tired, I just couldn’t eat due to being over anxious.

At 6:45am we were still in the gate lobby waiting for boarding.  There was still no visible activity around the plane.  My only source of entertainment to distract me from the worries about our flight was watching passengers scramble to the next door gate whenever the employee behind our gate counter made a reminder announcement about the Newark flight having been moved.  Their gate was only 50 feet away and their flight was yet to board, so after their scramble over in panic they’d realize how close they already were and how that seating area was already filled at the new gate and would return to their seats in our seating area to continue their wait.

I was seated facing the window looking at the nose of our plane with the gate counter and jetway entrance to my right.  It was becoming painfully obvious we weren’t going anywhere, so I decided to get up and look out some of the other windows for a bigger view of things.  I walked over past the gate counter and to the windows on the opposite side of the jetway.  I saw another plane from our airline coming to a park about 200 feet away.  It was an awkward place to park as all the other planes were pulled up to the gate where their jetway could reach them.  I had a pretty strong feeling this was our replacement plane.  I walked back to our seats and told John about the plane I had just seen, “There’s a plane that just parked over there.  It’s not parked at any of the gates, just out in the middle of the tarmac.  I bet it’s for us.”

“Oh, yeah?  I’m going to go take a look.”  John walked over and stood in front of the window for a few minutes and then looked back with an agreeable nod to the head.  He came back to me and asked, “So you think that is our replacement plane?”

His tone wasn’t doubting, but intrigued by my observation so I continued with my thoughts, “It’s the same size plane and there were ground crews pulling up to it.  They can’t pull it up to the gate because our plane from last night is still here blocking it.  They are going to load us on it old-school style by having us walk out on the tarmac and board via one of those rolling stairs.”

John nodded in agreement, “I think you’re right.”

We continued to make trips to the window to watch as the plane was prepped for activity of some sort.  Seeing the baggage cart pull up to it and start loading baggage convinced us that this was our plane.

It was 8:00am and Twitter activity was beginning to percolate around the JSC Tweetup attendees.  I was learning that there were two tour buses, one called the “red bus” and one the “blue bus”.  Competitive discussions were going on as to which one was the coolest bus both in temperature and attitude.  Apparently one bus had a very cold A/C and this was garnering much tweet activity.  It was obvious, that like previous Tweetups I have attended, that the attendees were quickly bonding and already having playful sparing matches via Twitter.

We continued to wait in the gate lobby for boarding.  Our constant checks at the window indicated that the plane seemed prepped and ready.  The employee at the gate counter could only tell us that since we were unplanned, flight control was doing their best to work us into the flight schedule.  It was now 8:30am and a nervous check to my Twitter stream told me the news I was hoping not to see.  ”Oh, no, the shuttle simulator is one of the first things they’re doing.”  I had really hoped that would be an afternoon activity.  I was still on the ground in Birmingham – how in the world would I make it in time now?

By 9am we were finally ready to start boarding the plane.  We were taken down a ramp to the tarmac and led out to the plane that John and I had figured earlier as being our replacement.  We climbed up the stairs and I gave a weak smile to the flight attendants that were there to greet us as we entered the cabin.  John’s seat was not near mine so I took my position between two new passengers I was not familiar with and settled in as best possible for the flight ahead.  By my estimates, it would take about an hour to get to Houston.  ”Come on, let’s go!”  I thought to myself.

When we were finally in the air by 9:30am I was planning how things should play out once we arrived at my estimated time of 10:30am.  I’d run down to baggage claim to get my bag, call my Tweetup contact I had been given by the @NASATweetup account, get my rental car and drive South to JSC.  Maybe I could get there by 11:30am, but I’d have to call the hotel again and let them know I wouldn’t be checking in until later at night.  I had called them last night to cancel my Monday night stay after it was clear we were staying in Birmingham for the night and was nervous about not checking in after my flight.  I knew I wanted to attend the dinner after the Tweetup and figured it may be as late as 10pm before I could get back to the hotel to check in.  Therefore I had to make calling the hotel one of my to-do list items after landing – I just didn’t want to lose any more time by having to make a detour to check in before heading to the Tweetup.

At 10:30am I was surprised we hadn’t yet begun our descent into Houston.  I figured it wouldn’t be much longer but we continued to fly.  At 11:00am I was baffled and annoyed at how long the flight was taking.  At 11:30am our captain informed us that we’d “eventually” get clearance to land in Houston.  Since we were not on the regular flight plan our captain had been instructed to basically take the scenic route, zig-zagging our way to Houston until there was room for us to land.

Landing finally happened at 12pm.

I stood with the rest of the passengers at the baggage claim waiting for our baggage carousel to start moving.  I used the time to call my Tweetup contact number that I had been given the night before while stuck in Birmingham.  During that call I was told to call back once I made it to the Gilruth Center and they would arrange a bus to pick me up.  I hated being a burden but was grateful that accommodations were being made for me.

I called the hotel next and confirmed my room would still be available for the night and when I would likely be checking in.  Next I pulled up my Twitter stream.  The shuttle simulator was over with and attendees were mentioning being at the JSC cafeteria for lunch.  It was official now – I had missed my reason for going to the Tweetup.  I was not going to fly the shuttle simulator.

In 2010 I attended the ATX training program at Kennedy Space Center.  There they have a full size mock-up of a space shuttle.  The mock up also serves as a flight simulator with basic controls and computer monitors over the windows to simulate the view during flight.  I was picked as Commander of our mock training mission and was able to fly and land it.  This mock-up was very impressive, but only a fraction of the control panels were hooked up and functional.  A few weeks prior I was in a shuttle simulator at Space Camp during their Tweetup event I was fortunate enough to be able to attend.  I really was excited to see how the real simulator at JSC that only astronauts had access to compared to these two other top simulators that us mere civilians had access to.  I knew we would not have the true complexities of a mission thrown at us or understand what anything in the cockpit did, but that didn’t matter.  What mattered is having an experience that few others could claim.  It would be an experience we could share with others while feeling even more connected with the historical era of the space shuttle that was soon coming to an end.

I felt a sense of guilt for having already missed half of the Tweetup.  There was one less person out of so few that would have this experience to share.  I also had another case of the nice-guys-finish-last blues.  If I hadn’t tried to take so little time off for the Tweetup out of respect for work, I would have left on an earlier flight and avoided this whole fiasco.

There wasn’t time to pout over it.  It was time to man-up and salvage what was left of the Tweetup.  And what was left?  Well a trip to Mission Control for starters, and that was something to be excited about.

“While the Tweetup is paused for lunch, I can catch up to them,” I thought to myself.

John came over to ask me if I knew my way to JSC.

“Yeah, I have a map printed out.  I figured I’d avoid downtown and take the Sam Houston Tollway loop around until I pick back up on I45.”

John didn’t approve of this route, “That’s going to add a lot of time to your trip.  Just head straight down on I45.”

“But that goes straight through downtown.  It’s bound to be slower going.”

“Nah, you’ll get more traffic on the loop and you’re also adding miles.  Stick with the straight shot.”

I wasn’t sure if John’s advice was sound, but he put enough doubt in my head that my initial plan might not be the best choice.  It occurred to me maybe he wasn’t visiting but likely lived in Houston.  I was going to ask him more on what experience he was basing his recommendation when the bell for the baggage conveyor rang to indicate our bags were forthcoming.  Our attention shifted to the conveyor as luggage slid down a chute from the ceiling and on the moving conveyor below.

Unlike Birmingham, John’s luggage was quick to appear.  He grabbed his bags and came over to bid me farewell.  We shook hands as I saw my bag slide down from the chute.  ”There’s my bag too,” I said with my attention not as focused on our goodbye as it should have been.  ”It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Best of luck to you.  Remember, take the straight shot down – it will save you a lot of time.”

“I will, thanks,” I politely responded, half of me wanting to follow up with him more on why he was making that recommendation and the other half moving towards my bag.  John walked off and I turned to make my way to my bag before it turned the corner on the slow moving conveyor.  I didn’t want to wait for my bag to make a full revolution on the conveyor before getting back to me as I only had a little bit of space left in which to catch it as the crowd was very thick.  Plus I didn’t like the idea of it being out of sight as it made its journey around.  I got it just before it turned the corner.

“Ok, time to find the rental car.”

There was no time to waste so I hurried to where the rental cars where picked up.  I couldn’t recall who my rental car was with until I saw the sign for “Alamo”.

“Yep, it started with an ‘A’ so this is the right place.”

I impatiently waited in line eying my watch.  When it was my turn with the agent I was panicking when they couldn’t find me in their system.  I managed to pull my confirmation email up on my phone and read it back to them as proof they should have a car for me.  That’s when I read the word “Avis” as the rental car company.

Once I finally got behind the wheel of my rental car it was 12:30pm.  It had been 18 hours since I had eaten anything and I remembered my nutrition bar tucked in a pocket of my carry on.  I pulled it out along with the last remains of the bottled water from the Birmingham terminal gift shop.  I put my cell phone on GPS and quickly wolfed down the nutrition bar before getting out of the parking lot and onto the main roads.  I now had finally had my breakfast… sort of.

Pulling out of the airport I realized I was going to trust John and take the straight shot.

“Please let him be right.”

Continue reading – Part 5 – Save My Spot