Escape from Korea

Once upon a time, there was the Redheaded Stepchild of Fate, and when he grew up he joined the military and got shipped to Korea for 2 years. I met RHSCF before his stint in Korea, right when I was discovering the Diskworld novels of Terry Pratchett. RHSCF was my mental image of Capt. Carrot, tall (well taller than me), kind of silly and clumsy, but surprisingly smart and insightful.

RHSCF and I had been communicating by email and IM (God I love the internet!) and we'd made plans to renew our friendship when he returned home on his next leave, which is currently happening by the way, and is serving as a pitstop for him before his next assignment in the land of beer and schnitzel. Yep, RHSCF is going to Germany.

But first he had to get out of Korea.

The military, in it's infinite wisdom, took care of the travel arrangements for RHSCF and approximately 499 other servicemen and women who were looking forward to leaving Korea behind. Due to fly out on Friday, the outprocessing started on Wednesday, and on Thursday morning, RHSCF showered, put on his travelling clothes and started to prepare for the journey.

And here enters Murphy's Law.

Armed with a duffle bag of reading material, our hero settled in to wait for his plane, which was delayed repeatedly. After a few hours, the plane could be seen just a couple hundred feet away at the airport gate. (RHSCF had by this time begun and completed reading Dan Brown's Digital Fortress.) The anticipation and excitement had built so that the passengers had to be reminded that it is illegal to walk on the tarmac. They were eager to leave and were worrying about their connecting flights in Seattle. Hungry and cranky, they were ferried to the plane in small groups. It took an hour and a half for the crowd of 500 to finally board the plane.

Within 15 minutes all passengers were asked to depart the aircraft for some minor repairs. Groaning, all 500 returned to the airport. Of course, there were more delays, and then the eventual announcement that the plane could not take off since it had rained earlier in the day and the runway was still wet. To quote RHSCF, "We can send a man to the moon using 30 year old technology, but an airplane can't take off with a wet runway."

At 11:30 all military personnel were reminded that curfew was at midnight and that they were expected to be in their hotel rooms by that time. That left RHSCF 30 minutes to grab some food (he hadn't eaten since early Friday morning) and find a hotel. The mission was a success but only because he had the foresight not to follow the majority of his colleagues to the restaurant on the base.

Next morning, Saturday, he showered and prepared to be at the airport for his 7 a.m. flight, and found a message at the front desk that it was pushed back to 11. At the airport, a cautionary message was delivered; anyone getting belligerent would not be allowed on the plane, and by the way, the flight's been delayed until 4.

He hung out at the airport reading and trading books with his fellow travellers until once again, they were called to ferry across the tarmac and board the plane. He settled in, with the hot air of the A/C blowing on his face despite all attempts to muffle it with a pillow. Bringing his discomfort to the attention of the flight attendant who seemed to be ready to burst into flames himself, but for a completely different reason, RHSCF asked that the heat be turned down.

"Heat? We don't have heat..."answered the befuddled steward.

Airplane air conditioners run on much the same principal as the one in your automobile. When the engine is idle, you get hot air. Finally, with the assistance of the protests of several hot, sweaty, cranky passengers, some of whom hadn't showered in 48 hours, the steward was persuaded to turn off the A/C.

Then the pilot announced they were going to start the movies. For 5 hours, our fine soldiers sat captive on the plane, some watching movies and some sleeping until the announcement that they once again needed to evacuate the aircraft, which needed to be repaired with a part that was 4 hours away in Seoul. It was 11:30 and curfew was extended to 1 a.m. After a much needed alcoholic beverage, RHSCF checked back into the hotel.

Sunday, our weary travellers were told to quickly board the plane, the pilot was determined to get the bird off the ground, and he was racing a rainstorm. The preflight check began, passengers buckled up and found themselves airborne and headed for Seattle and what is arguably the worst airport ever.

But there was more rain ahead so our friends found themselves dumping fuel and on their diverted way to Anchoridge. Only by shedding excess weight (ie fuel) could the plane be made light enough to land safely and stop on a possibly wet runway. (Sounds to me like the airlines need all weather tires.)

Once in Alaska, RHSCF quickly cleared customs and made his way to the Delta counter, armed with a letter explaining the dilemma and need to trade in 3 day old tickets for current ones. After making it to the head of the line, he was told to go to the phone kiosk and call the 1-800 number for assistance, so he lined up behind 30 other guys trying to get home.

"Yes, hello, I missed my connecting flight and the US government is going to buy me a new ticket," he explained after finally getting to the phone. "My confirmation number is..."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't find you in our system. Please go to the ticket counter for assistance."

At the ticket counter, a nice attendant, who had been watching RHSCF bounce back and forth like a tennis ball in a championship volley, told him to go to the first class line, where he could get immediate assistance.

"Are you flying first class?"asked the buffoon manning the first class counter.

"No, but that nice man over there told me to come and see you."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you. You need to get in that line over there."

Having arrived in Alaska at 10 a.m. RHSCF waited 5 hours in just as many lines, but he emerged victorious and with a valid ticket! The problem was that his original travel arrangements included a flight on Delta and a flight on American Airlines. So he had an AA ticket with the Delta lable.

When he landed in Houston, his dad was there to give him a big bear hug, "God you stink."

"Yes I do. I've been travelling nearly a week, haven't showered since Thursday morning and I've been wearing these clothes since Wednesday. Take me home!"

And what a marvelous place home has turned out to be for RHSCF. He's got steady meals, frequent showers, a vehicle, friends galore to reunite with and of course, a love interest. Hey, every adventure story's got to have a love interest.

I invite you all to leave a little message to help me welcome home my friend Matt, aka RHSCF.