Staying fit in Omaha

After narrowly getting on a flight from Newark back to Los Angeles, I flew again the next day on a 3-day trip that would leave me in Omaha for about 30 hours. Our hotel is the Even Hotel, a very niche hotel that seems to target the fitness-loving guest, or at least someone who fashions themselves so. The room is very spacious, and the usual black-and-white photos of local buildings have been passed over in favor of solid colors and inspirational quotes. It’s like being in an Ikea, but without the hordes.  

 I set my alarm for 930am central, and I woke up not terribly hungry. It is unclear which time zone my body clock is on at this point, so I decided not to force food down. Furthermore, the Even hotel did not have a complimentary breakfast, and it was 20 degrees out. Around noon it was expected to finally break 30º, so it was around this time that I ventured out for a “brunch” of sorts. The nearby 11-Worth Cafe had good reviews, so I gave it a try. I should have known what I was in for when the clientele and servers all looked very well fed. I ordered an omelette, which came with hash browns and pancakes. It was supposed to be a single pancake, but the kitchen decided to give me extra. Everything was massive. The hash browns were the size of a Chipotle burrito (fork shown in picture for scale). If the Even Hotel had a personality, it would be shaking its head and folding its arms as if to say, “Tsk tsk,” like a disapproving mentor. It goes without saying that I ate everything.  

 I ventured outside once again, and the temperature was manageable, though I had to keep my gloved hands in my jacket pockets or they would freeze. I walked through the entirety of downtown Omaha, where I observed absolutely nothing. You will recall my posts about Wichita and everything being closed. This was a minor step up, as I did occasionally see people and cars, and there was a Subway that was open, but as a whole it was a virtual ghost town. After a few miles of walking I made it to the riverfront, an area that is currently under renovation. They are attempting to revitalize this area and make it more “fun” and put in outdoor cafes and brewpubs and things the kids like. I did see a few people trying to brave the cold temps by running along the bike paths near the river, but I could have counted them all on one hand.  

   I eventually wound up at the Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge. I walked across the river to Iowa and then back again. Take that judgy Even Hotel! Did YOU walk to Iowa and back? No! You’re a building! After another few miles, I finally made it to a Walgreens. Let that sink in for a minute. I had to walk through the entirety of downtown Omaha to find a basic convenience store. I needed a sewing kit to repair a button on my uniform epaulette, and the Even Hotel did not have such things. While they had exercise balls in the room, and various strength training apparatus, they did not having sewing kits. In any event, I walked about 7.5 miles today, which burned off about 10% of my brunch at the 11-Worth Cafe.   

 I did look through the in-room fitness guide and tried my hand at some of the exercises, but felt very silly doing so. Nevertheless, I have provided documentation of this for you to see the absurdity of it all. And with that we bid good night to Omaha, the city that never woke up.

Vancouver & Surrey

It has been a busy month, and I find myself flying even when I'm not flying. Nicole's movie got into a film festival in Vancouver, so we made an effort to attend. The nonrev game is not for everyone and a lot of legwork (literally) to get to Vancouver from LAX. Our first priority was a SkyWest flight for United out of terminal 8. It was showing full, so as a backup we would do WestJet leaving 50 minutes later from terminal 3, the furthest point from terminal 8. In spite of this, once we found out for certain that we wouldn't get on United, we made it to the WestJet gate at Terminal 3 just as they were calling our names. Phew. We were sweaty and tired, but had seats (albeit separate). Three hours later, we landed in Vancouver.

We rented a car because if nothing else, it was a place to store our bags the next day as we went to the festival. We drove downtown in some traffic and rain, but eventually arrived at the Le Soleil. It was in a prime location close to the waterfront. After getting settled and grabbing a donut at Tim Horton's, we walked around for a bit. It was dark out already, so it felt much later than it actually was. We walked along the waterfront in light drizzle which slowly increased in its intensity. By the time we got to the Cactus Club (a popular chain restaurant in these parts) we were rather soaked. I splurged and had a steak and a beer. It was actually fairly reasonably priced. After our relaxing dinner, we walked briskly back to the hotel and snuggled in for the night.

The next day, we woke up to even more rain than the previous night. It was an umbrella kind of day. Checkout time was a reasonable 12pm rather than the standard American checkout time of 10am. Since we couldn't really do much outside, we chose to get tickets for Flyover Canada, a large-screen ride that transports you over various landmarks in Canada. Think of it like Soarin' at Disney, except Canada. In fact, it's very likely made by the same company. Instead of scents of oranges sprayed at us, we got smells of pine trees and mists from Niagara Falls. It was about 8 minutes long and probably not worth the price we paid for it, but Nicole was able to get a Canada flag pin to add to her camera bag, so it was all worth it in the end.

After all that, we checked out and drove to Surrey, the location of the film festival. We met with Nicole's composer for lunch and then went to check out the movie at the theater inside a university. It seemed to be received well, and the Indian humor seemed to really hit its mark with the primarily South Asian audience. Nicole did the obligatory schmoozing after the screening, answered a few questions, and we rushed off to the airport, grabbed some Tim Horton's and flew back on WestJet to Los Angeles, where it was 85 degrees.

Flyin’ Brian Reviews SFO’s eating options

I was supposed to be spending my first night of a four-day trip up in Eureka, California — home to Redwoods, Sasquatch, and presumably a large number of marijuana producers. I was supposed to be there for 30 full hours, spending two nights there and an entire day without flying. This, however, was not to be. As I hopped into my seat at the flight deck, I sent for the latest weather report, which was around 1/2 mile visibility. This isn’t great, but it would have been good enough. However, as we boarded the passengers and got set to go, it dropped down to 1/4 mile which would make even attempting the approach illegal as far as regulations are concerned. To complicate things further, sitting and waiting for weather to improve wasn’t an option since the runway was going to shut down for maintenance at 1230 am (it was 1030pm at the moment of this revelation). The flight was canceled and the company initiated the circus that is finding an unscheduled hotel in an unscheduled city (San Francisco). They sent us to the Crown Plaza by the airport, which is where we often stay for SFO overnights, but we were informed that they were full. After another hour or so, a limo came to pick us up and drove us to what evidently was the nearest hotel with four rooms available — Berkeley, California. This would have been convenient if we were flying in and out of Oakland, but obviously, we were not. I think I got to bed at 2am. We were expected to deadhead to Eureka the next day, spend a night there, and resume our scheduled trip. So after I went for a stroll down by the bay the next morning in Berkeley, I put the uniform back on and we went to the airport.

 The first flight canceled for weather, so they booked us on the next one. That also canceled due to weather. The third and last flight of the night was canceled out of sympathy or perhaps common sense that the weather in Eureka is just absolutely crap this time of year. We would again be in San Francisco, this time they found us a hotel by Union Square in downtown San Francisco at an estimated cost of about $500 per night. It’s too bad we couldn’t have just spent the day downtown instead of wandering aimlessly around SFO, but you can’t always plan these things. So instead of searching for sasquatch in Northern California or riding cable cars up Powell Street in San Francisco, I spent the majority of the previous 48 hours in San Francisco International Airport. It’s not a great story, but that’s just the way it is. Accordingly, I can tell you a lot about where to eat inside the airport. 

 I have done a few “Why Your Airport Sucks,” posts and have few gripes about San Francisco. Sure, there’s often fog and flow delays because of fog, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a lot better than O’Hare’s average weather, and 1000x better than Newark in all ways possible. At the end of the day, SFO is actually a pretty decent airport. The bathrooms are plentiful and clean, there are ample places to find food, and it’s relatively easy to get around. LAX hasn’t really been excelling in these areas as of late. And while the southern California airport modernizes, many of the fast and cheap eats have disappeared, getting replaced by trendy (and overpriced) SoCal joints such as Lemonade. If you are unfamiliar with this establishment, just imagine eating dogfood that’s undercooked. 

Anyway back to SFO — I have been in and out of this airport fairly frequently throughout my flying career. Some eateries have come and gone. Boudin Bakery used to be my go to place. I’d order a sandwich on sourdough and get a real jaw workout. If I was feeling frisky, I’d get some cookies along with it. Since its disappearance from the United gates, I have had to look elsewhere. If I’m fixing to get something cheap, I’ll just go to Burger King and get a chicken sandwich. It’s perhaps the only place in the airport that you can walk away with a meal under $10. It is, however, quite terrible for me I am sure, so a much healthier alternative is Klein’s Deli. It’s a local establishment and there are maybe three or four locations just within the United terminal alone. All the sandwiches are named after San Francisco neighborhoods. My go to is usually the Haight, which is essentially a BLTA (Bacon, lettuce, tomato, avocado for those who live outside California and don’t put avocado on everything). It is divine. Also their salted caramel cookies are a real punch in the mouth. If I could only eat at one place at SFO, it would be Klein’s. But variety is the spice of life they say, so sometimes I look elsewhere.

Since I was spending so much time in SFO these past few days, I have been branching out. A new place in the terminal called Bun Mee has taken the place of Boudin. If you order one of their banh mi sandwiches, you will get a similar jaw workout since they’re made on french baguette rolls. They are generously filled with spiced chicken, pork, beef or whatever catches your fancy. Next door is a pizza place, which is popular with people who have hit rock bottom and have just stopped trying at life. I observed former New Jersey governor Chris Christie, wearing oversized sweatpants, getting pizza from there. You can also get Mexican, Peruvian rotisserie, Chinese, Japanese, and mediterranean cuisine within a short walk. In short, you have a good variety of places to choose from . . .unless you’re flying Delta through SFO.

  

As great as SFO may be, I’d much rather be back at good ol’ LAX. This has been the most pointless four-day trip and I’d much rather be sitting at home than sitting in airports and hotel rooms. As a whole I’ve been pretty lucky with my schedules and disruptions, but thats’s all part of being in this industry. It could be worse. I could be flying in and out of Newark.

The Midway

After a considerable amount of time avoiding hotels, I seem to be finding myself in them quite often these days. In the past couple weeks, I have been in San Diego three times. This most recent one, however, actually occurred during daytime, so I could go out and explore a bit. I elected to check out the USS Midway aircraft carrier museum. At over $20 admission, it isn’t exactly a steal, but there are only so many aircraft carriers one can walk around on, so I caved. Unlike the Intrepid in New York, which displays any kind of airplane they got their hands on, the Midway stuck strictly to its Naval past and the only aircraft that could be found on board were those that might have actually flown from its decks.

 It wasn’t too crowded, fortunately, because there’s nothing worse than narrow hallways and corridors filled with hundreds of sweaty tourists. After walking around the flight deck, I waited in line for about two minutes to take a tour of the ship’s island. The guy leading the small group was a former colonel who kept using, “in that aspect” after every sentence. After the 30th time (no exaggeration), I was losing my mind. I honestly have no idea what else he was saying, though occasionally he switched to “in that regard.” After about 15 mins and a thousand aspects, the tour of the island ended. I continued a self-guided tour below decks to the crew quarters, briefing rooms, and radar room. I was the only one roaming these parts. There were a few more former naval servicemen in these rooms to educate people as they passed through. The guys I ran across must have been real bored, because they came at me at 1000 words a minute. I can now tell you how to operate a Naval SPS radar system, what the different symbols on the screen mean, and how different sources such as an E-2 aircraft flying overhead can feed data to the system. Maybe someday this information will be useful.

Following this, I headed off deck and back through downtown to the hotel. It was an interesting museum, and far more accessible than other carriers that have been converted to museums. According to its Wikipedia page, the Midway underwent multiple deck and stabilizer conversions to adapt to modernized aircraft and the changing times. One of these proved rather unsuccessful and it was nicknamed the “Rock n, Roll carrier.” The pictures were unsettling. It is best that the Midway is permanently at port now. As I once famously said to a Naval recruiter at age 17, “I don’t like boats.”    

Po-Town and the Hudson Valley

It was not easy to get from Houston to the Hudson Valley. Our initial plan to go to Detroit and connect did not look promising, so we went to Atlanta instead. Once there, we did not get on our intended flight to White Plains, and we weren't going to get on the next one either. We ended up taking American to Philadelphia, and a small regional carrier to Stewart airport in Newburgh, NY.  It was a slightly stressful day, where we had set an alarm to get up early and yet didn't arrive at our hotel in Poughkeepsie until almost midnight.

Then following morning, we ventured to the Vanderbilt House. Nicole knew the area because she had gone to college in these parts. I was eager to see the fall foliage, but more things were dead than were popping with color. It was a bit chilly out, but manageable in the sun. The wind wasn't too strong either. After strolling around the Vanderbilt mansion, Nicole showed me around her old haunts, but there was a football game taking place, which eliminated all chances of finding a place to park.

We continued to a recently built rails-to-trails pedestrian bridge spanning the Hudson River. We walked most of the way toward the opposing bank before turning around. It was an active spot with lots of cyclists, runners, and walkers. There didn't seem to be a lot of other recreational exercise options in the city of Poughkeepsie, which is kind of sketchy looking to be perfectly frank. It's the kind of place that has succumbed to heroine it appears. Behind the old architecture and Hyde Park quaintness seems to be this kind of ominous and unsettling vibe.

The wedding was outside before going indoors for the reception (and warmth). I characteristically ate a lot of food including personal-sized apple pies which nobody else seemed to finish except me. The following day's flights were a lot easier than our adventures getting to New York. We had one quick hop to Detroit and had no issues getting on our flight to LAX. Now I will have to go back to work for a few weeks, which seems quite silly. Doesn't the company realize I'm all about not working? I have some four-day trips coming up, so this blog might actually seem some action this month until I get my precious locals back. Harrumph.

I'm in . . . Waco?

Nicole and I have had a fairly busy 2019, having found ourselves in places like Central America, Africa, and Europe multiple times throughout the year. There were a couple months here and there where we didn't go on any big trips, and were in places like New York or Florida, (which as everyone knows) don't count. Anyway, this is one such trip that didn't count -- to the Lone Star State. My sister was competing in a Half-Ironman Triathlon which for some reason was taking place in Waco. The Waco Airport only flies to one other airport - Dallas, so rather than change planes and deal with DFW, we flew direct on SkyWest from LAX to Austin, roughly 90 mins drive away. We hadn't booked a hotel until we were basically on the ground in Austin because nothing looked great. Along with a major event comes quite high hotel pricing. We always figured we'd be driving in from 30 miles away, but ended up finding something last minute in Waco for about $100/nt, a vast improvement over the $350+ prices we were seeing elsewhere.

We set the alarm to make sure we didn't miss breakfast the following day, and then plotted out a few spots we might be able to intercept my sister while on the course. With road closures and a generally bad course map from the Ironman website itself, this was not always easy. Further complicating things was the fact that everyone in a helmet and Tri-gear looks exactly the same. By the time I realized she was coming, she was riding past me. There are several pictures of her back. We were able to see her about six times, however (some by accident), which I thought was pretty decent.

Before she transitioned to the running phase of the triathlon, Nicole and I drove just outside the city to the former Branch Davidian complex which famously burned down after a long standoff with federal agents. It seems like a silly thing to do as a tourist, but Waco isn't known for much else, though I have heard mention of a Dr Pepper Museum. Anyway the former site of the standoff is in a very rural area and we were a little surprised to see that the sect of "christianity" that the Branch Davidians subscribe to still exists. They have rebuilt a church and facility including an Audio Visual building where one can presumably learn their take on past events. The entrance to the whole thing was through a large gate. Neither Nicole or I liked the idea of being on the inside of the gate, so we elected to not leave the car. Another vehicle was slowly driving at the same time, and we tried to keep them from visually identifying us. It was kind of an unsettling environment, so we snapped a couple quick pics of a memorial and a big stone welcome sign and called it good enough. It looked as though the other car started following us, but we quickly slipped away.

Meanwhile, back on the triathlon course...

My sister had to do two running laps traversing the Brazos River a few times and doing all sorts of silly u-turns and roundabouts to reach 13.1 miles. It was more difficult to observe her during this phase since we decided to not deal with the car once we found a place to park it, but we still saw her twice. It was a decent day as far as weather was concerned, not too hot, but I was comfortable in my t-shirt and jeans. My sister was able to complete her triathlon before the cutoff, and we drove three or so hours to get to the Houston airport to drop off our rental car. We spent the next few days in Houston before heading off another "trip" to upstate New York for a wedding.

Vancouver, eh?

I do realize I now post like twice a year, but thanks to my ever-improving seniority, I'm getting mostly locals, and rarely have an overnight. If I do get one, it's often quite brief. I did end up getting a long-ish Vancouver overnight, arriving around noon and not departing until the following morning. Our hotel was close to the airport (which is not close to the city). This made it a bit of a challenge to get downtown. I had to walk a mile and a half to the nearest train stop (with a brief stop at Tim Horton's enroute), then a 20 minute ride to the city center station.

From there, it was another couple miles to reach Stanley Park - my destination. Stanley Park is like Vancouver's Central Park, a large expanse of greenery in an otherwise urban area. I mapped out a route to hit most of the highlights of the park without running out of energy. There is a bike / pedestrian path that encircles the park along the seawall. This seemed to be a popular choice, and appeared a bit congested, so I altered my route to go directly inland toward an area called Beaver Lake.

I didn't encounter anyone during my walk through the trees in the interior of the park. It was nice. Eventually I reconnected with a main trail on the opposite end of the park near Lion's Gate Bridge. I then marched down the hill from this spot back down to the seawall to walk around the park back toward the entrance.

This took a considerable amount of time, and by the time my day was complete, I had logged some 12 miles or so. On the way, there were a few sights to break up the strain on my feet. One of them is known as "girl in a wetsuit," and is like Vancouver's answer to the mermaid in Copenhagen. Toward the end, I stopped at the park of Totems before limping my way for another few miles to the train station and back to the hotel and the attached Denny's Restaurant.

Why Your Airport Sucks: London Heathrow Edition

As a nonrev traveler, one's plans often change, and although it may seem that we're always able to pull something together, it isn't always easy. When we got in line to check-in for Lufthansa to Frankfurt this week, we discovered that the flight had become oversold as well as pretty much every other European airline in the star alliance including Swiss to Zurich, LOT to Warsaw, and an additional Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt and a later one to Munich were all pretty much at capacity. We had to scramble to figure out another option. For an hour we tried to figure out connections and ways of making this work. We sent Greg to Brussels on a direct from O'Hare and took United to London's Heathrow where we would have to change planes to join him in Brussels. Our plane arrived about 20 mins early, which gave us the confidence that we could catch a flight to Brussels that was departing in 90 minutes. Unfortunately, we had not anticipated the inefficiency of the Heathrow airport.

We had a long walk to border control (a mile to be exact), followed by another long walk (another mile to be precise) to go on the Tube to the other terminals. Yes, we had to get on public transit to try and make a connection. We had followed the signs to the terminal from the beginning, but were questioning if we had done all of this correctly because it had now taken an entire hour since getting off the plane, walking, taking the train, taking half a dozen escalators, a couple elevators, and getting passed around between gate agents before we could even attempt to check in for British Airways. The pleasant, elderly British woman behind the counter was very apologetic and did mention that the transit from Terminal 2 to Terminal 5 is a bit of a "journey", but unsurprisingly didn't have the capability to check us in for a flight that was now leaving in less than 30 minutes. We had to yet go through the security checkpoint. We then had to kill the next four hours in Terminal 5 at Heathrow, which can be defined by one word - chaos.

We kept trying to find a place that was away from the hordes of people. It did not exist. When I tried to use the bathrooms, there was a backup that gave even Newark a run for its money. It wasn't until my third attempt, that I was able to locate a bathroom with any openings. Furthermore, terminal 5 is not the only terminal serving British Airways, so even if you are changing planes with BA, you might still have to exit security, get on a train or bus, and make your way over to a different terminal. This is simply not acceptable for a major international airport to function this way. From my youth, I recall a viewing platform where one could watch the planes take off and land. In hindsight, I thought to myself, we could have probably killed an hour watching the planes, but then I looked into it. The viewing deck is now at Terminal 4, which DOES NOT CONNECT to Terminal 5. Watching planes could have cost us the flight. People have inquired about this very thing in online forums and some have even suggested a taxi might be faster than the airport's suggested method of train but the general consensus is that you need a three hour minimum for a connection between terminals.

 And I'll close out with this. From Terminal 5, you can see one of the old Concordes sitting next to a hangar. It's on the other side of a pair of runways, so you can't see it in great detail, but evidently it has been sitting there against its own will. It has not been turned into a museum or display piece, but rather has been left to rot and is reportedly infested by rats and waterlogged from the English rain. There were plans to put it inside Terminal 5 as a centerpiece, but such a move has been slowed by bureaucracy and stupidity. . . and I'll just go ahead and throw Brexit in there for good measure. Concorde was one of the most impressive aircraft of all time, an icon, an engineering marvel, and a matter of pride for both France and the UK. The French have proudly displayed their Concordes at museums or on stilts outside Charles de Gaulle. At Heathrow, this rat-infested, rusting carcass of one of Britain's finest moments is like a metaphor for Heathrow. On the exterior it looks fine. It looks modern, sleek, and clean. But dig a little deeper and you will find one of the most inefficient, ill-conceived, and hopelessly impractical airports on the planet.

Why Your Airport is Actually the Worst: Newark Edition

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, and much longer since I've submitted an entry into my "Airports that Suck" category. In the past, with Detroit and Cincinnati, I had expressed a lot of opinions. I am going to do something crazy here and just use cold hard facts . . . mixed with my usual snark. At the end of the day, Cincinnati is still kind of a terrible airport, but Detroit has some redeemable qualities, and I am willing to admit that. Newark (EWR) is actually the undisputed worst airport in the country . . . if not the world.



That's a big claim, Brian! Don't believe me? Just do a google search for the Newark airport's rating and you will find articles from JD Power, Forbes, or Travel & Leisure which ranked Newark the highest on the misery scale this year. Now, as you might imagine, there's a reason I'm writing this right now. For the record, I have always hated Newark since I first set foot in Terminal A more than twelve years ago. This was a time before the United / Continental merger, before TSA Pre-Check, and well before mobile boarding passes. And yet despite these improvements over the years, somehow Newark has actually gotten worse. Let's just go through the whole EWR experience from being dropped off at the curb to (hopefully) your departure. None of the terminals at Newark connect on the other side of security, so if you have to change planes between airlines, things are really going to suck for you because the security lines are the worst in the country.



Let's say you are being dropped off at Terminal C, the largest and most modernized of the terminals. There are multiple security checkpoints to handle the volume of passengers. Unfortunately for you, an angry TSA agent will yell at you and tell you to not use the checkpoint closest to your gate because it is closed for some inexplicable reason. You are then trapped in some no man's land that cannot access the other checkpoints because you will have to go either up or down to walk down to the next checkpoint. Not to worry, though, because the up or down decision will be made for you. At least one of the escalators will be broken. If you do end up going down, this might be your most successful option as the security line tends to extend into baggage claim particularly around holiday times. I am convinced that the whole reason TSA Pre-Check exists is because of the Newark airport. Yet even with Pre-Check, you will be putting in some time in a line. What makes this so confusing is that the Newark Airport is only the 14th busiest airport in the country, yet airports that make up the top three like O'Hare, Atlanta, or LAX somehow operate far more efficiently.

Let's say you have pre-check. Congratulations! You've saved 50 + minutes waiting in line. You will be slowed down at the bin station for unforeseen reasons. As you approach the metal detector, an angry TSA agent will continuously yell, "WALK!!!" at everyone queuing up to walk through. Considering the speed at which you are requested to run through the metal detector, it is unknown why there is ever a security line. Also, the metal detectors are obviously turned off.

Now that you've made it through, congratulations again! You've completed the most difficult part of your journey unless you need to use a bathroom, and odds are that you do because you spent a long time in that security line. I have some bad news for you. The ratio of bathrooms to passengers is something like -50 to 1. If your gate is in the large triangle-shaped concourse serving about 30 United gates, there are two small bathrooms. If you are a woman, I feel truly bad for you because there will just never be a time that you won't have to wait in line. If you are a man, you will be able to empathize with the women because you too will have to wait in line. There are a TOTAL of six men's stalls for the entire concourse. Let's pretend that only smaller 737s are parking at the concourse (which of course is silly because there are 757s, 787s, 777s and other large aircraft parking there as well). But for the sake of argument, let's pick one of the smallest planes United flies and say only 20 of them are parked at the concourse. That's 3000 people in the concourse vying for two bathrooms. You can see why this is absolutely idiotic. Furthermore, if you think the United Club is your ace-in-the-hole for bathrooms, you would be wrong. The United Club has no bathrooms.

Finish your business in the bathroom? Congratulations! You are efficient! You got through security AND the restroom and didn't miss your flight? WOW! Off to the gate! Wanting to grab some food quick? Sorry, only iPad orders are available at sit down restaurants where you can order things like buffalo wings. There are no quick grab-and-go food items unless you walk to the far end of the United terminal by gate 130 where there's a Wendy's, and given what you've just gone through, you definitely do not have time for that. Ok, so hungry and exhausted, you arrive at the gate where they have finished boarding even though it's 45 minutes before your plane is scheduled to depart. The four gate agents working the flight are loudly talking about a passenger they don't like. If you have a confirmed seat, you are in decent shape as long as you were able to get to the gate more than 30 minutes before the plane was scheduled to leave. United gate agents in Newark love to close the door early.

Do you have a standby ticket to Los Angeles? Oh no. I'm so sorry. Gosh, that's . . . that's just terrible. You're flying standby on one of United's most profitable routes in the system. That means almost every flight is at capacity. But I get it, flights are expensive. Good luck. Those gate agents have called for final boarding. You are patiently waiting at the gate, checking your phone and the screen in case you are miraculously cleared. A woman and her very young daughter approach the gate because they were somehow split up and would like seats together. All four gate agents attack the problem by telling the woman they can't possibly do anything about it. No standbys have been called. You wait patiently because your employee travel manual tells you not to bother the gate agents while they're "working." Every other airport either calls you by name or clears you via a mobile app. Newark does not do this with any sort of consistency, so I hope you've pounded on the desk and reminded them that you're flying standby. Because if you've followed the rules of nonrev flying and were a patient, courteous, and non-intrusive passenger at the gate, they've already closed the doors and told you it was your fault that you didn't force the issue and throw yourself in front of the door. They let you know it's not their responsibility to clear standbys, similar to how it's not their responsibility to help the woman and her young daughter. The plane closes the door 40 minutes early with multiple seats open and standbys stranded at the gate. 8 passengers show up 30 minutes prior to departure, but the gate is already "closed," even though there is surely still a line of passengers slowly inching their way down the jetbridge. These passengers who were denied boarding are now competing with you for seats on the next flight, which is oversold. Your day will not improve. You will slowly begin to starve to death while soiling yourself due to the lack of bathrooms. Your name will slowly be transferred from one flight to the next. This is the only way anyone will ever know your name. Unfortunately, nobody will care because you're in New Jersey. Your humanity has been reduced to a standby listing that will likely never bear fruit. Over the airport PA, you hear your name called. A gate agent is doing their job! In the greatest of tragedies, you don't have the energy to get to the gate. A cart runs you over and your body is dragged past five gates. As if by miracle you see the LAX flight boarding right in front of you. You have been given a seat. You limp down the jetway, looking forward to any sort of sustenance even if it's just a small bag of pretzels.

You wait 50 minutes for the plane to push from the gate. The pilots tell you there's a maintenance issue, but claim it's been resolved and they're finishing up the paperwork. They push from the gate 35 minutes later. It's a sunny day, though light rain showers are forecast 8 hours from now. United operations in Newark blames the delay on weather. The control tower also delays all flights arriving/departing the airport due to strong winds and severe weather. The last recorded wind speed was 15 kts, a pretty average wind if there ever was one. You are #15 for departure. 38 passengers will miss their connection to Tokyo out of LAX. They will not be compensated with a hotel because the delay is on "weather." Two hours after it was supposed to depart, the 757 finally lifts off and climbs away from Newark in a sharp banking turn. A woman screams. A baby cries. A dog  emotional support animal barks. The flight attendants are complaining about the captain. The captain is complaining to the first officer about the flight attendants.

The pilots roll out of the turn. There is a single chime over the PA. They are soon out of Newark's airspace. At that moment, a silence falls upon the cabin. The woman has stopped screaming. The dog  emotional support animal has fallen asleep. The flight attendants phone the captain to see if she would like a meal, or perhaps even an ice cream sundae. The captain tells the first officer that she has never worked with a finer group of flight attendants and makes a note to submit their names for recognition by the company. The first officer is meditating, which is pretty standard practice after leaving Newark's airspace. The rest of the flight is calm minus a few pockets of light chop enroute.

Somewhere in 19A, an orthodox jew bites into his inflight meal and realizes it's not kosher. He laughs heartily at this misfortune. A woman in a hijab sitting next to him offers pita and hummus to the man. He graciously accepts and the two share earbuds and watch, "Into the Spider-Verse" together.  Back in Basic Economy, a NYPD cop and a young man from Harlem swap their favorite Dad jokes. A middle-aged white man in a MAGA hat connects to the in-flight wi-fi and logs on to facebook. "Your argument contained so many valid points," he replies to his trans niece. "I can't believe I have been so narrow-minded in this regard. Look forward to seeing you at the lake this summer! I promise to stop posting right-wing memes, LOL."

One must experience the ultimate low that is Newark Liberty International in order to reach the nirvana that is physically leaving Newark Airport. It is a feeling that cannot be disregarded. One emerges a more thoughtful, kinder, better person. While I wouldn't wish for my worst enemies to go through Newark, I will know that if they emerge intact on the other side, they will no longer be my enemies. Namaste.