The next flight with few vacant seats was on Sunday evening where we all were supposed to be re-booked. Or at least this is what we were told by a customer service clerk. Apart from not reaching their destination on time the passengers were also worried if they will get a hotel room to sleep. Getting a hotel room when your flight is cancelled is the second most unbearable things of flying on international route. First is the flight cancellation itself. I overheard that to get a hotel room we have to queue up again at some other corner of the airport. When my turn arrived there were still few seats in the Sunday evening flight to Pittsburgh. I grabbed one of them without any second thoughts.
America has a great cultural diversity that confronted me as I entered the airport after disembarking from my flight from Amsterdam. I saw African American immigration staff, Indian Airport Support Staff, Mexican Baggage handlers and Chinese something. And some European Americans to make the american diversity complete. Understanding the diverse American English accents was as hard as getting my checked in luggage for my night stay somewhere. I waited for almost an hours for my baggage to appear in the conveyor belt after filling up a form for my baggage retrieval. It did not arrive. It was 9 in the evening at Newark. My body was almost feeling like having had a sleepless night. I made an attempt to enquire about my baggage at the baggage claim counter. The answer shattered my remaining faith in customer service in America, which many people talk about here in Europe. My baggage claim was buried under a stack of similar forms and nobody had come to pick them up. Nobody knew when my form will be picked up.
I was luckier than the most of my fellow passengers that I had a friend living in proximity of the airport. He was just aware of my miseries at the airport. He was just a phone call away to take me to his house and then comfortably put me back at the airport for Sunday evening flight. In his car, driving to his home, I felt privileged that I know someone who can offer me shelter some 3000 miles away from my home in Holland while my fellow American passenger would be sleeping at the airport. His sweet two year old daughter reminded me of her similarities with Anika of two years ago.
