The Written Podcast: New York (Part 14) - A 3 Hour Delay

My Flight was not due to take off until 11PM at night, meaning, after waking up at 6AM, I would have been awake for 17 hours. I do struggle to get any sleep whilst travelling, so I estimated to be awake for (including the 7-and-a-half hour plane ride and the time difference between America and England) 30 hours without any decent sleep. I was fully expecting this to be a hard day. When I say I struggle to get to sleep, I mean I have difficulty getting any proper sleep. I can still rest my eyes, it’s just that I’ll still be aware of my surroundings and where I am which would prevent me from going under.

The taxi trip to JFK Airport was so much smoother than the one going to the hotel. He didn’t swerve in and out of traffic willi-nilly, he didn’t follow any ambulances down the hard shoulder as if it was the natural thing to do; this driver stuck to the road at all times and within his lane, only changing when needing to overtake or generally because it was the fastest moving lane at the time. We got into a decent conversation, talking about my holiday and what I got up to, how long he’s been living in New York City, and he told me the time he visited England. He said England, specifically London, was a busy place. He mentioned that the underground network in England is so much cleaner and organised than the subway system in New York. I never used the subway system during my holiday, but I was surprised to hear him say that, not because I think our underground system is dirty and smelly - far front it - I was expecting him to say that New York’s subway system is much better than that of ours, but instead it was the other way round. When I eventually get around to returning to New York, I’ll make an effort to pop down to the subway system to form an opinion for myself.

Leaving New York was atmospheric within the Taxi. Driving over the bridge, officially leaving Manhattan, knowing it’ll be awhile before I stepped foot back inside the Big Apple - even though it was only for four days, it generally felt like an end of an era. I great moment in my life has come to an end. When I’m back in England, I can already sense it being the beginning of a new chapter, with New York being the intelude between the two.

JFK Airport was amazing. Considering I’ve only seen the section of the airport that’s designed to get you out of the place as quickly as possible, via customs, I knew nothing about the airport, so after going through the usual standard security checks by getting your bags X-rayed and your entire body scanned for metal, the airport in general was huge. Shops literally everywhere… the same four shops repeated everywhere, to be precise, with the odd different shop here and there just to spice things up a bit. And it was incredibly expensive. Really expensive. $16 for a standard sandwich and a drink. Never have I ever seen prices for two items that high, and the sandwich wasn’t exactly big, with filling that barely touched the sides, the drink was just 250ml. I needed something to eat and drink, so I had to spend the money, thinking the whole time about how the airport knows we passengers have no choice but to pay those prices or go hungry. Go to Mcdonalds and spent the same amount of money, however, and see what you get - I wouldn’t be able to finish it all.

Throughout my time at the airport, I’m checking the board, waiting for the gate number to appear. At 8PM, it does: 37. Where was gate 37? About halfway to England. I walked for ages in a straight line, passing shop after shop until eventually getting to my gate number. By the time I reached it and sat down I was glad I only had to go to the gate 37, because my feet were already beginning to hurt.

10PM came and everyone stood up. They woman over the tannoy called out each individual section to make for an easier and smoother boarding process (apparently). At this point, I, and everyone else, just wanted to get on the plane and back to England. They completed the boarding process, everyone had put their carry on bags in the overhead compartments, taken off their coats, settled themselves in their seats, and generally made themselves comfortable with the blankets. Some were already browsing through the selection of films available. And then, we heard the dreaded announcement. That one announcement no one ever wants to hear when on a plane. It has been delayed, we must deboard. The entire plane, collectively, audibly and loudly groaned with annoyance.

I’ve seen news reports on TV about planes being delayed. Seeing so many people sitting around the airport, not knowing what the heck to do whilst they waited for the go ahead to go home. Whilst the news only report on the extreme cases of delays, such as a couple weeks, I did have those images flash before my eyes as I walked back through the corridor and into the airport terminal once more.

The woman kept us up to date with what was happening. Apparently something was worn and it needed to be replaced and once it was replaced it needed to be tested before flight… the problem was, I was extremely tired come this point and all I wanted to do was go home. I paid no attention to hardly anything the woman said except for the parts when she mentioned how long the delay will last for, how successful they are in fixing the plane, and how incredibly sorry (not sorry) they were with keeping us all waiting unncessarily, inevitably causing a good chunk of people to miss their connecting flight in England.

3 hours we waited for. Granted, 3 hours is hardly any time compared to those who’ve waited days and weeks before reboarding, I understand that, but now I’ve experienced that side of the coin. Of all the times I’ve travelled via plane, I was lucky enough not to have any delays. It so happens that the one time I travel on my own, there’s a delay. Go figure.

When you’re waiting for any amount of time, not doing much, it always feels longer than it actually is. 3 hours felt incredibly long. 3 hours of basically doing nothing, but eventually they announced we had the all clear and we could reboard the plane. Everyone was just too tired and bored to show any enthusiasm at this point, so just got up, formed an orderly queue and re-took their seats on the plane, mirroring exactly what they did 3 hours ago. It was only when the plane actually took off did the atmosphere in the cabin relaxed, because up until that moment we simultaneously felt as if something else could potentially go wrong. We were up in the air; I was heading home.

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)