This Dad lost his temper in front of his little boy in the worst way. But how he redeemed himself will amaze and inspire you.
At the airport, we watched the snowfall on the tarmac. Looking out the window, I joked to my teenage daughter, “Who’s going to shovel all that snow off the wings before we take off?” A little part of me inside grew worried by the minute, because I knew that the harder the snow fell, the better the chances were for a delay, and we had a connection to make.
Sure enough, our delay came. I refused to let it bother me, as I was intentionally trying to demonstrate patience to both my daughter and 6-year-old son accompanying me on our trip back home. This was a remarkably hard task, considering that, in the last three days, I had acquired a cumulative four hours of sleep. Regardless, I kept cool with an ounce of pure determination, mixed with a dash of stubbornness.
I ended up sleeping through most of the pre-flight delay, as did my children, but it wasn’t until about 30 minutes before landing that panic set in. The flight attendant announced that, because of the delay, we would arrive at 11:00. Looking at the boarding pass for my connecting flight, I realized it was scheduled to take off at 11:02.
Then, despite the flight attendant asking other passengers to let us off early to catch our flight, we were the last ones off the plane.
My determination to make the connection was growing by the millisecond, and as soon as we were out of the gate, the three of us sprinted — or at least, as fast as a 6-year-old’s legs can run.
Reaching the terminal and seeing our gate within grasp, I felt a glimmer of hope, but that hope dissipated when I realized the jetway door was closed, the reader board had been updated to reflect the next flight assigned to the gate (which wasn’t ours) and the seats surrounding the gate were empty.
Two minutes. We missed our bloody flight because of the two minutes we lost because of the selfishness of other passengers. My outrage turned into an outright grown-man-tantrum.
I spotted a ticket agent at the desk in front of our gate, and struggling through gasps to catch my breath, I shouted in his direction, “Excuse me!”
He turned to see me, only to turn around again. The bastard ignored me. “Hey!” I shouted again, breathless and exhausted, “Can you help us?”"Sorry, but I can't help you right now," he responded, turning his back and walking away from the gate.
This was the last straw. My temper boiled over like scalded milk in a pot too small to contain it, and I lost it, shouting angrily, "Well, that's just f*cking great! How the hell are we supposed to get home now?"
The agent sped up, but turned his head slightly back toward us and in a hurried matter-of-fact manner, replied, "If you missed your flight, go see the automated service counter between gates C2 and C3!"