Cancelled Flights and Lost Luggage

Every journey is a new adventure filled with ups and downs. I try and keep that in mind each and every time I travel. I have fallen into the trap of letting the difficulties of cancelled flights and lost baggage derail an entire trip so I try to remind people to take things in stride (even though I fall victim to this myself).

Booking 1 &2

Yesterday, my husband and I embarked on our grand adventure to Copenhagen. We sprang out of bed at the crack of 7 a.m., cool as cucumbers, double-checking that we hadn't accidentally packed our dogs or left behind an essential watch (which we did end up doing anyway). A quick peek at my emails revealed that our flight to JFK had decided to take a leisurely delay, leaving us with a mere hour to play "Catch Me If You Can" between terminals. Now, if you've ever attempted the JFK terminal sprint, you'll know it's about as likely as finding a unicorn in your backyard.

I grabbed the phone and dialed up the airline, and presto! I was chatting with a delightful lady who worked some magic and rerouted us from Orlando to Boston, then on to Copenhagen with SAS (Scandinavian Airlines System). I was over the moon since we had splurged on first-class tickets, and this new plan kept us in the lap of luxury. But just as I was about to call my mom to brag—er, update her—I noticed our Boston to Copenhagen flight had pulled a disappearing act from our itinerary. Poof! Just like that, it was gone.

Booking 3

I hopped on the phone with Delta faster than a cat on a hot tin roof (while also shoving our luggage into the car as our friend drove to the airport) to unravel the mystery of our missing flight. After being serenaded by hold music for what felt like an eternity, the best itinerary they could conjure up was a wild goose chase: Orlando to Boston, Boston to Atlanta, Atlanta to Amsterdam, and finally Amsterdam to Copenhagen. This epic journey was going to take over 24 hours, and to add salt to the wound, our upgrade had vanished into thin air, and we were now seated apart like quarreling siblings. The agent assured me there were no other options and insisted this was the best he could muster. If I didn't jump on it, he couldn't promise we'd escape Orlando at all, and I had to decide faster than a cheetah on roller skates before all the flights disappeared. As our friend screeched to a halt at the airport, I booked this utterly dreadful flight, hoping to find a sympathetic soul inside who could find us a better route.

Booking 4

Lugging our overstuffed bags, my husband and I waddled into the check-in line, looking completely distraught. The lady at the counter gave us a look that screamed, "Are you serious?" as she glanced at our travel itinerary, which seemed like it was concocted by a travel agent with a wicked sense of humor. After a few quick phone calls, she managed to get us back on our original flight from Orlando to JFK, and then JFK to Copenhagen in economy. Yes, the one with the mind-bogglingly tight connection, but hey, it was better than the mess we were in.

At the Orlando Airport with all our travel essentials. Our Nobl and World Traveler Carry Ons, LoveVook Purse, Owala Water Bottle, Coach purse and a good book! You can't see it but my LaBuBu is hiding there somewhere!

With newfound hope, we hustled to the gate to catch our original flight, only to be stopped dead in our tracks by the giant, mocking red "Delayed" sign. Our 10:30 flight had now morphed into a 2:30 departure, ensuring we'd miss our connection by a country mile. As fellow travelers sprinted to the help desk like it was the airport Olympics, I casually picked up the black help phone, praying that the next Delta representative would be as miraculous as the last.

Booking 5

Being a seasoned traveler in the art of flight chaos, I had about little to no faith in finding flights. As the Delta representative played musical chairs with our bookings, flights vanishing fast. But then, lo and behold, the travel gods smiled upon us! A flight from Orlando to Atlanta and then Atlanta to Copenhagen magically appeared, and we snagged two seats in the last three rows, strategically placed miles apart from each other. Our only concern? A nail-biting one-hour-and-40-minute layover that was tighter than we wished, but hey, it was worth the gamble. At least we were escaping Orlando, albeit fashionably late.

Or so we thought. As the clock ticked down to our departure, we noticed that although the previous flight had deplaned, our plane seemed to be on a coffee break. Then, the intercom crackled to life with the dreaded announcement: our plane had a maintenance issue. Cue the mad dash to the Delta help desk, where I knew the flight options were scarce sighting. Desperate, I whipped out my laptop, searching for flights on other airlines. SAS and Icelandic Air were charging prices fit for royalty, and American and Delta were booked solid.

Back at the gate, we were told our main challenge was escaping Orlando. Even if we missed our connection in Atlanta, flights to Copenhagen were as plentiful. So, with fingers crossed and spirits high, we waited. Then, like a plot twist in a bad movie, baggage informed us our flight was being decommissioned. But fear not! Another plane from Atlanta was due in 20 minutes, however this sliced our connection time down to a brisk one hour.

Back to the desk we went, where they moved us closer to the front of the plane, hoping we'd disembark faster. With fingers crossed, we finally boarded our first flight, ready - and knowing - more travel shenanigans awaited us next.

Booking 6

So, you'd probably love to hear that we made our flight and everything was peachy, but nope, that wasn't in the cards for us.

Picture this: I'm sitting on the plane, doors wide open inviting a never-ending parade of snails to board, time was ticking away, and our connection was slipping through our fingers. Finally, the door shut, and we crawled towards the tarmac. Just then, the pilot's voice crackled over the loudspeaker with a plot twist—Orlando's weather decided to play villain, and we were stuck waiting for the weather to pass and at least five other planes to take off first. I slapped on my headphones and started a movie so bad it should've been illegal. Fast forward to me simmering like a stew, and the movie crawling to an end. I checked my Delta app, which basically said, "Congrats, you're missing your connection!" But hey, they offered rebooking options. My eyes lit up when I saw we could hop on Air France from Atlanta to Paris, then Paris to Copenhagen, all in Business Class, no extra charge! I turned to Hayden, who said, "Book it and let's deal with it later." So, off we went booking yet another flight. Thirty minutes and yet another awful movie started, we finally took off, hoping our streak of bad luck was behind us.

Booking 7

Finally, we touch down in Atlanta and, by some miracle, have two hours before our next flight. Lady Luck might finally be on our side! We navigate the airport maze, stopping at the Delta help desk once more to double-check that our flights to Copenhagen are as real as they seemed at 30,000 feet. After some hesitation and a few mysterious phone calls about Hayden's ticket (that's all the intel we got), we finally clutch our golden tickets. Before leaving, I ask the Delta rep one last burning question, "Since we swapped flights mid-air, will our bags make it onto this flight?" He gives me a look like I just asked if penguins fly. "Of course, it's the flight you're booked on." Feeling confident in our flight and baggage situation, we grab a sandwich for Hayden and some Swedish Fish for me, and settle in to wait for our 10:30 flight to Paris. As we approach the desk to get our boarding passes, we're hit with the news: our in-air Business class tickets are actually for economy unless we cough up for an upgrade. Since we already got a refund for our original First Class tickets and this was about $500 less than our refund, we quickly agree to pay. After all, we'd been traveling for over 12 hours, and the promise of sleeper seats was too tempting to resist. We board the plane, cross our fingers, and hope to make our connection in Paris without any more surprises.

I am always a little short for Business Class flights but at least I fit when you can lay down!

Racing to the Gate

We finally touch down in Paris, an airport so familiar we could probably navigate it blindfolded. But we realize we have less than an hour to dash across the airport and get through customs. Clutching our passports and boarding passes like golden tickets, we launch into an Olympic-level speed walk towards security and border control, only to be stopped in our tracks. It's a twenty-minute trek to the gate and another twenty-minute wait at border control. Suddenly, this connection feels tighter than we initially thought, and we're starting to sweat. With just two customs lanes open, we count down the people ahead like it's a game show, as the clock ticks ominously. With a mere five minutes to spare, we break free and resume our speedy shuffle, rounding the corner just in time to see the "Final Boarding to Copenhagen" sign flashing like a neon warning.

It's hard to see but those "Final Boarding" red letters scared us so much.

We hand over our boarding passes with the grace of a baton handoff in a relay race. Success! We've made our connection without a hitch. But wait—plot twist! The flight is packed, and we have to check our carry-ons. Normally, no biggie, but having once lost luggage, the thought of parting with our backup clothes makes us twitchy. Alas, we have no choice and head down the gangway, onto the bus, and finally on the plane and towards our final destination. A bit nervous, but thrilled to be on our way!

Huzzah Copenhagen?

What a site to see after a long day!

A quick hop, skip, and a jump of an hour and twenty minutes, and we touch down. I let out a sigh of relief, feeling like I've just escaped a travel circus. We wander around this new airport like lost puppies, trying to find our way to baggage claim. Hayden's phone has given completely with no way to charge it, and mine is clinging to life but quickly dying. We wait an eternity for the baggage carousel to start its dance, and finally, Hayden's carry-on makes its grand entrance, followed by mine. We watch the baggage carousel spin like a merry-go-round, only to realize we're part of a confused audience staring at the same ten bags that belong to nobody. Cue the frantic scramble to find someone who can help us solve the mystery of the missing luggage, as we try to figure out which leg of this wacky travel day swallowed our bags.

Lost Luggage and Language Gaps.

I have to confess, this is where things start to resemble a Salvador Dalí painting—completely surreal and a bit fuzzy. I attempt to get a Delta representative on the phone only to be promised a call back in 25 minutes, which in airline lingo means "see you never, sucker!" Luckily, Hayden is already in the lost luggage line, valiantly trying to unravel the mystery of the missing bags. We quickly discover that the language barrier is like trying to communicate with a cat—frustrating but amusing. We hand over every piece of intel we have, hoping our bags will magically appear before our cruise sets sail. The lovely lady at the counter offers her condolences, like we are attending a luggage funeral, and crosses her fingers for us.

With nothing more to be done, we head to the hotel. I'd love to say that was a breeze, but alas, we couldn't snag an Uber, and the taxi's electronic system went kaput. We eventually arrived at the hotel, having paid a king's ransom for the ride (but that's a tale for another day). Exhausted yet hopeful, we drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a joyous reunion with our wayward luggage at its final destination.

Day 2 - Still no bags

I hit the pillow and was out like a light, but then bam! I’m wide awake at 5am, heart racing. Hayden's phone is finally charged, and a quick peek at our airtags reveals the horror—our bags are still enjoying their vacation in Atlanta! Time to play everyone's favorite game: "Get Someone on the Phone." After a thrilling round of phone tag, I finally connect with a supervisor who informs me that the baggage center in Atlanta is closed. Great, just great. I need to call back in six hours and sweet-talk someone into putting our bags on the next flight. After a delightful exchange of words, I hang up and try to keep my cool. Fast forward six hours, and I'm back on the line. Surprise! Our bags have been chilling in Copenhagen for hours, but no one's rolling out the red carpet for them. We have to go fetch them ourselves. I have a school meeting, so Hayden takes the baton. According to his tales (which I'm sure he'll regale you with later), he arrives at the airport only to be told by the counter lady that he can retrieve the bags in three hours when her backup arrives. Just when Hayden’s about to make his move, I get a call from the hotel saying our luggage will be delivered between 5pm and 8pm. It’s 4:40, and I realize Hayden might miss the bags and end up arriving after they do. I call him, but he's determined to try his luck. Maybe he can intercept them before they hit the delivery truck. No dice. After a wild goose chase through two different airline lost luggage departments, he finally hops in an Uber back to the hotel. We watch on Hayden's cell as our luggage takes a scenic tour of Copenhagen at a snail's pace. But by 7pm, the prodigal bags return, and we’re reunited at last. Mission accomplished!

Hayden after a long day of chasing them down and finally bringing the bags to the room!

Bad Travel Days

I'm penning this epic saga of a post to explain that...

1. At any moment, we could have thrown in the towel. We could have yanked the plug on the entire escapade or ended up in a wrestling match as the days spiraled into chaos. But somehow, we managed to keep each other (mostly him keeping me from losing my marbles, if I'm being honest) from going bonkers.

2. I doubt anyone would believe just how atrocious this journey was unless we documented every twist and turn. My brain is still doing somersaults as I recount it for you all.

3. We made it! Our bags made it! And we're onto the next chapter of our adventure, which we can't wait to share.

4. We can't wait to chuckle about this disastrous day as we keep plowing ahead. Mainly because when things are truly awful, sometimes all you can do is laugh. Plus, it's handy to tell the next bad day, "At least it wasn't like that time we tried to get to Copenhagen!"

Thanks for tuning into my rant! Share your most unbelievable travel disasters and worst travel days. It helps to know we're all in this chaotic ride together!