Our trip to London got off to a shaky start. At one point well into the four hour delay I figured the flight would be cancelled.
When we first boarded the plane, it was warm. But I figured it would cool down once they got the plane going – that’s happened to me before, although not in a long time.
As it got hotter, the pilot got angrier. As it turns out, the cooling engine hadn’t worked on the flight over from London, and nothing had been done to make it work in warmer America.
The pilot was very apologetic, ripping the airport for not bringing out the equipment, despite multiple requests. We were getting hotter. The pilot was getting even hotter under the collar. For a trans-Atlantic flight, there was a bumper crop of babies on board. He expressed concern about their well-being (rightfully so), all while expressing frustration and anger at the airport’s ignoring the issue.
He finally made good on his threat to have the jetway extended back out, and cleared the plane. We couldn’t go back into the gate, so we instead were herded into a glassed in hallway that connects to the gate. A flight attendant told a couple of us that the pilot is quite a calm person, so his anger and frustration was probably even greater than he was letting on.
(By the way, for some reason I generally prefer my pilots to be calm.)
Carol and I ended up chatting with a British couple from Manchester returning home after a trip to New Orleans, Memphis (???), Nashville, and Washington, D.C. They loved DC, and enjoyed most of the rest of the trip, but admitted they should have skipped Memphis. They are Manchester City fans, which means they’ve had quite a bit of success in the last decade – a lot more than once powerful Man United has had (sorry, Mick, had to mention this!).
It was nice chatting with Dave and Thea. Actually, I didn’t catch Thea’s name, but I’ve always wanted a friend named Thea because it’s a cool name, but I’ve never actually known a Thea, so now I can pretend I do. Sort of.
A unfortunate British Airways (BA) rep was tasked with walking through the corridor, telling everyone it would be thirty minutes. After the fourth time she announced that it would be another 30 minutes, I began to have my doubts, even if she sounded authoritative .
Meanwhile, the cockpit was just across the tarmac from where we stood, and we knew it was a bad sign when they opened the cockpit windows in an attempt to cool things down whilst they waited.
A while into the wait, BA relented and let people into the terminal to use the restrooms and maybe pick something up – Carol acted decisively to get a shake from the Five Guys across the hall from our gate.
Meanwhile, we were kept entertained by the various work crews who basically waited for some equipment that, when it came, wasn’t powerful enough to do the job.
So the number of BOGSAs (Bunch of Guys Standing Around) hanging around the tarmac under the plane ranged between three and ten consistently. They all had yellow vests and did nothing (to be fair, there was nothing they could do, but we wanted to see some effort!)
Every so often a few of the yellow-vest clad folks would hop into a cart and drive off, and then they would come back after a bit. Carol was beseeching them to show some initiative by running, but they couldn’t hear her, so that must be the explanation as to why they didn’t hustle.
Finally, a third machine – given my lack of technical knowledge, let’s call it an engine-starter – showed up on loan from United. They finally got the thing to work, but we had to wait a bit longer for the engine to cool the plane down.
As the new machine showed up, the beleagured BA rep came down, saying it would not be much longer now. I quipped, “so, about thirty minutes?” You know when you deliver a line so pitch perfect that people immediately get the reference? That was me.
Everyone in hearing distance laughed heartily, including, to her everlasting credit, the BA rep. Thankfully, it wasn’t thirty minutes. We boarded the plane soon thereafter, and left for London after a very uncertain four hours.
The key was that the crew had timed out, but they all wanted to get back home to London, so they voted to go ahead with the flight. Phew.
(Editor: Nobody is asking what a BOGSA is. Writer: Oh, I guarantee you some people read this post just to be enlightened. And, the next time they are delayed by a BOGSA leaning on shovels doing road "work" they will say -- "hey, look, it's a BOGSA!")
(Editor: Can you give me another example of a BOGSA? Writer: Oh, you mean the NY Giants football team's offensive line the last two years? Not that I'm bitter. Editor: (Thinks for a moment). Oh yeah, definitely. Perfect example.)
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