I read a lot of blogs containing airplane trip reports. That is, detailed posts about the flight, times, seat location, food, and activity on board. I generally find these a bit dull, unless it describes an experience of sheer pleasure or horror. Even under cramped circumstances you just sit, be quiet, and read, and unless you’re sitting in a midwest snowstorm for 12 hours you usually arrive at your destination no worse for the wear. However my report rivals even the most dreaded conditions:

Yesterday morning we set out to the airport in a non-rushed mood, not needing to depart to Los Angles until 11:20am. I didn’t want to make coffee at home, figuring we’d stop on the way. By the time I realized we had passed 12th Avenue (coffee options for Daz Bog and Under the Umbrella,) we were already driving east on 14th to Colorado, my standard route to the airport. I expressed my coffee concerns to Michael, our friend driving us and also house sitting, that it was already 9am and I hadn’t had any coffee yet, however my verbal fritterings were drowned out by Pink.

We turned north on Colorado Boulevard and planned to stop at the McDonald’s at 35th and Colorado. “No problem” I thought, I can get coffee there. I had heard McDonald’s had some fancy new brew so why not. We pulled into McDonald’s and were about to enter – but then the three of us realized that in addition to being completely mobbed, McDonald’s food is also disgusting. We saw the Church’s Chicken across the street and Michael, being an Alabama native, assured me that they were indeed open breakfast hours. Fried chicken and biscuits – yes a fun and unique breakfast. However they were not serving coffee. Crap.

Already being 9:45 I didn’t want to make another stop, and other than a gas station there’s no coffee shop between 40th Avenue and interstate 70. Oh well, I can get Starbucks in the airport. Michael dropped us off and we gave our appreciation for the ride. A LOT of appreciation for not having to park, walk, or park and take a shuttle during the holidays. Having checked in online we headed to security to catch our American Airlines flight to Los Angeles.

Here’s a tip next time you’re departing Denver International: The north and south security screenings are located in the main terminal “tent” building, and both checkpoints lead down to the concourse tram. However these two enormous collective checkpoints feature an insane number of roped-off switchbacks. By the time you arrive at security you feel like a mountain goat with vertigo and ready to just jump off and end it all. I usually check in online and don’t have luggage, so I immediately head to the north end of level 6. From here I can then look down and see how bad the lines are, OR, walk north through a 3rd and smaller security screening leading to the “A” gates. (Signed: Bridge to A Gates.) Provided Frontier Airlines doesn’t have a large batch of flights departing this security checkpoint USUALLY has short lines, and it’s a simple line rather than the series of switchbacks. After clearing security you walk over a sleek bridge and arrive at the “A” gates, or take the elevators down the train which will go to the “B” and “C” gates. It’s a bit more walking, but you avoid the masses (pictured left,) and have a less chaotic security experience before a quiet walk over this bridge to your gates (pictured right)

Back to the story: I arrive at gate C39 via my method above. Caleb checked out the airport’s finally free WiFi, and I started to hunt down some brew. Yes I know what you’re thinking: it’s just south of 11am and I STILL have not had coffee yet. The line at Einsteins leads to infinity, so I opt for TCBY’s coffee. I walked back to my seat on the floor and had a few sips of the rancid brew.

We boarded the MD-80 and got settled in. I’m not exactly sure why these are called “Super MD80s.” “Functional and adequate” would be a better term. I do like the “two seat” sections. Perfect for traveling with a companion. Having spilled while getting seated one too many times I threw away my coffee at the gate, and figured I’d wait until we’re airborne to relax and fill up. We depart over Denver and the majestic snow covered Rockies enters into view. No window shade should ever be shut departing over the Rockies. It’s one of the most beautiful views on earth with brilliant white snow and sharp jagged treelines. On clear days you can even see the runs at Summit County ski resorts. I’m relaxed and content as the flight attendants make their way down the isle. This is where things all go to Bush:

The coffee maker on board was broken. Panic time! The FA was sincere and apologetic, and I kept my composure as I analyzed the situation in my head. I instinctively ordered a Diet Coke as I started jotting down some options. The route from Denver to Los Angeles as expected goes southwest over the four corners area, straddling Utah and Arizona until entering California near Needles and arriving over the San Gabriel Mountains. Being a small time private pilot and aviation buff I’m familiar with most airports in the southwest and told the flight attendant I’d like to speak with the captain so we could work out a plan that would be least disruptive. I didn’t want to upset the flight attendant by telling her she SHOULD have just borrowed some coffee from the Dallas arrival that had pulled up minutes before we left – and we were airborne now. (With NO coffee on board.) What should we do?

My two options were Grand Junction’s Walker Field, or Durango, Colorado. Both of these airports on the western plateaus of Colorado have long runways and can easily handle an MD80. We could land, get coffee, and easily depart – again with minimal disruption to crew and passengers.

I was informed that the captain was busy “flying the plane,” but she would pass my suggestion (scratched on a napkin and some Spanish homework) to him. Unfortunately as we passed between Shiprock and Blanding, Utah I realized my ideas had been completely ignored. I reminded her again about our imminent situation but only got lines about “taking my seat,” and “safety threat.” It was 12:30 and I had only imbibed a few scant sips of coffee since waking up. Again – not trying to be selfish, I suggested we land at Laughlin. (Hence avoid the traffic into Las Vegas.) Now, obviously straight out of the book the FAs come back with serious toned remarks about “detainment upon arrival.” and “federal crimes this and that…” I felt just like Jodie Foster on Flight Plan*. Why wouldn’t anyone take me seriously? As a burly lumberjack of a guy stood up and said, “Do you need some assistance ma’am?” I snapped my finger and said “okay Guantanamo” then sulkingly took my seat. I certainly didn’t want to wind up on the AA blacklist like Joel and Victoria Osteen. I had no choice but to forgo coffee for the duration of the flight. Yes it appears we were barreling towards LAX – a full two hours and thirty minute flight sans coffee.

We landed at LAX and taxied around the dilapidated Tom Bradley International Terminal to the American Terminal. Also I didn’t realize the Tom Bradley Terminal had so many remote gates to the west side. So not only do international travelers depart or arrive from an airport that’s third world in chaos and infrastructure, some are also sardined into a bus just to board the plane.

We deplaned and walked outside into the tube of traffic and noise that is the LAX arrivals level. We were picked up shortly thereafter, and whisked off to a well needed lunch at In-N-Out. Great burgers and fries, but alas: They also lacked coffee…

*Airplane photo from Airliners.net

*Denver airport photos, In-N-Out photo, and fictional accounts of crew interaction by me. (the extent of it consisted of “No problem, Diet Coke please”.)

*Spoiler alert: Jodie Foster DID have a kid, and the air marshal did it.

James Van Dellen