2002-10-09 - 8:11 p.m.

Five Hours At New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport � A Chronology

2.30pm

Expecting scenes of unadulterated chaos and primeval mudwrestling to secure a window seat, I arrive three resignedly well-prepared hours before my 5.30pm flight to Chicago, just to be safe. The queue to check in at American Airlines is undeniably non-existent, though. In a bout of naivety, I take this as a good sign and bounce up to the desk, and cheerily announce my readiness to check in to the strapping blonde, who without skipping a beat tells me that due to the appalling weather, the flight is expected to leave at 7pm. I go away for a while to curse and smoke.

2.50pm

I gingerly reapproach Strapping Blonde and tell her that I might as well check in anyway. She tells me that she might be able to get me on the 4.30pm United flight, which astounds me � you�d think appalling weather would affect all the airlines, but apparently some have pilots with a more laissez-faire attitude to taking off safely than others. Still, I�d be off early, so I�m willing to risk it if they are. A quick phone call later and it appears that United�s pilots are just as lily-livered as the rest. They�re also going nowhere until 7pm. I check my bags, and go and find a quite corner to read and sob in alternate shifts.

3.30pm

I check the info board � American now leaves at 7.45pm

3.50pm

My zen-like calm towards the situation is interrupted by someone choosing to sit next to me and yell �HERE WE GO STEELERS!!!� repeatedly at a decibel level approaching that of the inner chambers of an iron foundry, for no apparent reason other than to state some apparent affection for a sports team. At first I thought he might be a simple, feeble-minded workman loudly brandishing his mercantile alliances, but his luminous helmet has a beer can glued to the top of it, which must either contravene health and safety laws, or simply be the sports-following headware of this thunderous bovine fuckwad.

4.00pm

The weather has slackened off, at least. Checking the board again, there�s no change to American but the 4.30pm United flight shows on time. I scramble back to Strapping Blonde at the AA desk.

4.02pm

I ask about the possibility of jumping the United flight. SB is confident that this plane is doing nothing for at least 3 hours, and that the boards �are wrong�. For some reason, I�m sceptical, and suspect she just can�t be bothered to have my bags switched.

4.30pm

The United Airlines flight to Chicago noses out into the great blue yonder, apparently unencumbered by SB�s lie-ridden pessimism. I go outside to curse for a bit longer.

4.45pm

I call my friend Ms Surly in Chicago to warn her of my impending unnecessary tardiness, and manage to blabber for a whole 45 minutes, only hitting a conversational bad patch when I tell her it was mainly to take advantage of her work�s toll-free number in my time-killing tactics.

5.30pm

Back in the departure lounge. Anticipated flight time jumps back a whole 15 minutes. Also, the disembodied voice which had been barking out ever increasing numbers that I�d simply assumed to be the advancing levels of Hades that we were collectively descending through, is just shouting out order numbers from a nearby food court. My spirits momentarily raised, I head for a consolation ale.

5.35pm

The �Jazz Alley Cocktail Lounge� is optimistically titled. On cursory inspection, the only tails being cocked were ones figuratively daubed in the gaudy colours of baseball teams, housing as it was a raucous collection of men taking refuge in televised sports and the chance to smoke indoors. Collective attention flits between the game on TV and the slim blonde girl sat up front as her typing e-mail and shouting into her cell phone is evidently the most erotic act imaginable.

6.10pm

When asked the score, my �Sorry I don�t know� obviously comes across as �Please explain every technicality of the rules of this sport whilst launching chewed peanut debris at my facial area�.

6.30pm

The 7.30pm flight time holds. I go to the gate to dig in.

6.45pm

We�ve been given a �wings up� time of 7pm, which is great, though there�s the obvious hope that the main fusilage, engines and attendant flaps and landing gear will enjoy a simultaneous upward trajectory. We are warned curtly not to leave the gate, and frantic attempts are made to locate the other passengers.

7.15pm

The other passengers are cunningly found when they all show up at the time shown on the board.

7.30pm

Let joy be unconfined. We�re up in the air and the Bloody Mary�s are going to be free. Next stop: Chicago O�Hare.