The ticket counter for Great Lakes Airlines is at the FAR end of all the ticketing counters, that should have been my first clue. I didn't need a confirmation number, credit card, anything, just gave the man my name. He handed me a boarding pass that looked about the quality and size of a McDonald's receipt. So I walked all the way back to the other end of DIA's main terminal and towards Concourse A. My gate was A57, okay, not bad. But when I got to Concourse A (which I chose to walk to rather than taking the train), I just kept walking, and walking, and walk--where am I going!?! I get to what seemed to be the end of A, then down a flight of stairs, then more walking. I looked around me to make sure I was not alone and that there were other people going in this direction as well (I wondered for a second if I was even supposed to be down here!?) Then I saw my gate--without an electronic board, intercom system (Betty yelling announcements for all to hear is NOT an intercom system) or many chairs, but I made it. I checked in and was given seat 7A and asked to wait. I find a seat and immediately wish I had stopped to get a bite to eat, there is NOTHING down here. After spending some time on Facebook on my phone, and after eating all the Starbursts in my pocket to tie me over, a little man opens a door and hollers, "we're boarding!!" Oh boy, really!?
I walk out the door onto the tarmack...uh, what? Following a painted walkway to the plane, I look up to see a bunch of very small planes around me, all with propellers. No way. Approaching our plane, my eyes immedately well up. I can't do this. If I wasn't make this trip for work, I would turn around right now, hit the National Car Rental counter, and drive to North Dakota. You want me to get on this plan, really? I have never had a problem with flying--until now. I see folks handing their larger bags to two men standing right below the propellers, so I do the same (no one gave me any directions here!) Then I look over at the stairs I'm to climb to board the plane. I swear they're attached with paper clips!! I step on--yep, they're pretty unstable! You've GOT to be kidding me here!! And yes, the tears are coming... oh my goodness.
I duck to get in the plane and am greeted by the unfriendliest flight attendent ever (at this point, I'm wishing for my cousin Tara or friend Becky... heck, anyone I know that can calm me down right now.) I count seven seats towards the back and sit down in 7A, the only seat in row 7 on that side of the plane. This is a problem for me. I have immediately realized that I REALLY don't like small planes--and we haven't even started going yet. Miss Stewardess instructs us not to turn our phones on on the plane at all... too bad, I'm calling John. I call home, let him know I'm on the plane, that I don't like it, and I'll call back if we make it to North Dakota. We agree we'll both pray for this flight (oh, I have been!!) Then Stewy comes back to tell me to hang up just as I am doing so... this is not starting out well.
As the propellers start going, the tears that have been welling up for 20 minutes start streaming down my cheeks. I hear the engine start and we begin rolling. Before I know it, we're airborne, but never really get that high in the air. It's an hour to Gillette, WY, where we stay for 10 minutes to unload and load more passengers.... I cried the first 20 minutes to Gillette. Two take offs and two landings later, I'm in Williston. I swear to you, the terminal is the size of the first floor in my house--and that ain't too big!! It's dark, and I can't really see beyond the airport parking lot, but I soon learn that the lights I can see are to my hotel. The client I'm flying out to see picks me up, graciously takes me through McD's drive thru, and back to the hotel.
The hotel, er, Airport Inn, is old, dirty, and sketchy. I get an actual key to open the door to my room, and immediately lock and chain it shut. While the room appears to be fairly clean, it feels dirty. I put phone books at the base of the curtains on the window sill just to keep the drapes closed, plug the clock back in and set the time, and turn on the tube. I choke down my cold McD's and get ready for bed. As I sat in bed, with my pillow wrapped up in my own t-shirt (just to be safe), I quickly realized that I had no power cord for my laptop. This trip REALLY isn't going well. So what do I do? Not work! No, I update Facebook and blog a little. Oh yes, productivity at its best!
The next morning, I woke up late (when had I set the clock, I used the time from my cell phone, which didn't update for the time zones--GREAT!) and met our client at my door. The rest of the day didn't go so bad: we had breakfast, went to our meeting, I killed time afterwards using the rest of my laptop battery on Facebook, we had lunch at Subway (one of three major restaruants in town), then back to the airport. The ladies at the office asked about my flight, and I did share with them my new-found fear: small planes. I also told them that I had called the airline to see if I could get on the earlier flight, and that I was heading to the airport to check in. The ladies seemed to be amazed by this, as they've always been on very full flights to and from Denver. I told them that the gate agent indicated about 10 open seats. I should also mention that they asked me when I'd be coming back to Williston, "You comin' back twice a year...?" I laughed--whoops.
Once I got on the plane (yes, early), it turns out that there were only 10 seats occupied. To boot, we all sat in the back to even out the weight. A great start to the trip home. I did take a picture of the plane as I walked out to it from the Williston airport:
Alas, I made it home. No offense to anyone from North Dakota... but I don't think I'll be making that trip again in the near (or far!) future. Sorry.
