I awaken to a pair of texts from Air France: Flights to Paris and Casablanca canceled. The trip is over before it’s begun. A hurried call to Delta, through whom I had booked the flights. Rick the agent reroutes me on an evening flight, with a late night arrival in Casablanca tomorrow. The last leg is on Air France, though, so I hope I’m not stranded in Paris.
Hurry up and wait in Orlando.Hurry up and wait in Orlando. I arrive way too early, then after two hours the flight is delayed half an hour by a thunderstorm. Once we board, it is delayed another half hour by electrical problems. The power is out. It’s hot. When at last the flight is ready to go, the push vehicle breaks down. An interminable delay on the tarmac; a backlog of delayed planes.
Finally, when it’s our turn, the young, nervous Brazilian woman in the next seat asks me to hold her hand during takeoff.