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Snow Storms and Stranding
Dec. 19th, 2009 10:22 amReading about the snow storm on the East Coast reminds me of one of my first Christmas's after I'd earned my butter bars and was stationed at Scott AFB. This would be early 1970s.
As the most junior officer in the squadron, I couldn't just go home to Connecticut for all the holidays. We sort of bargained with one another to find a way to get ourselves to families. I'd agreed to stay at Scott over Thanksgiving and had reservations to fly home to New England for Christmas.
First, one particularly nasty Captain tried to tell me I couldn't go home because my database was acting up. I had to prove to him that it was his report that was the issue not the database, and finally was okay to go the next day (I'd have lost my money for the reservations of course had he prevailed, bastard).
Anyway, I wake up that morning and there is snow. Lots of snow. Snow southern Illinois didn't normally get, at least not in those amounts.
To make matters worse, I try to get to the base, only to discover tractor trailers had jack-knifed in the roadway and there was no way of getting out of town.
By this time I'm resigned I'm not going to get home. I call a friend and beg for sympathy. My friend tells me to get back on the road and get my ass to the base the moment I can and he'll still drive me to St Louis despite the weather. I protest, he insists.
I drag my ass out in the freezing weather, fight the snow, manage to squeeze past the truck (they'd gotten one lane partly open by then) and arrive at the base.
My friend is waiting. Alas, we have only one hour to get to the airport. It is at best, in good weather, an hour and a half (at the time there was no interstate highway to St Louis) drive to the airport.
He gets me and my luggage into the car and we set out for the airport. It takes us more than two hours to get there. Long long past time for my plane to have left.
No cellphones at the time, so no way of contacting the airport to even ask. We, ahem, soldier on.
Get to the airport to learn they'd had to cancel most flights to the East Coast as they were getting the same storm and that mine had not left yet.
I ended up hanging out at the airport for an hour or two, then barely managing to get home, only just avoiding having my home airport close before we land.
Moral of story, no matter how bad the odds are, keep going!
Addendum: same asshole captain called me during my holiday and demanded I come back to Scott AFB IMMEDIATELY. I called the duty sergeant and he went to the boss and the boss told the asshole captain to stand down. The report was no big deal and wasn't needed until after the holidays anyway. Sheesh. Some men are idiots for power and really really hate women they perceive as encroaching on their territory.
As the most junior officer in the squadron, I couldn't just go home to Connecticut for all the holidays. We sort of bargained with one another to find a way to get ourselves to families. I'd agreed to stay at Scott over Thanksgiving and had reservations to fly home to New England for Christmas.
First, one particularly nasty Captain tried to tell me I couldn't go home because my database was acting up. I had to prove to him that it was his report that was the issue not the database, and finally was okay to go the next day (I'd have lost my money for the reservations of course had he prevailed, bastard).
Anyway, I wake up that morning and there is snow. Lots of snow. Snow southern Illinois didn't normally get, at least not in those amounts.
To make matters worse, I try to get to the base, only to discover tractor trailers had jack-knifed in the roadway and there was no way of getting out of town.
By this time I'm resigned I'm not going to get home. I call a friend and beg for sympathy. My friend tells me to get back on the road and get my ass to the base the moment I can and he'll still drive me to St Louis despite the weather. I protest, he insists.
I drag my ass out in the freezing weather, fight the snow, manage to squeeze past the truck (they'd gotten one lane partly open by then) and arrive at the base.
My friend is waiting. Alas, we have only one hour to get to the airport. It is at best, in good weather, an hour and a half (at the time there was no interstate highway to St Louis) drive to the airport.
He gets me and my luggage into the car and we set out for the airport. It takes us more than two hours to get there. Long long past time for my plane to have left.
No cellphones at the time, so no way of contacting the airport to even ask. We, ahem, soldier on.
Get to the airport to learn they'd had to cancel most flights to the East Coast as they were getting the same storm and that mine had not left yet.
I ended up hanging out at the airport for an hour or two, then barely managing to get home, only just avoiding having my home airport close before we land.
Moral of story, no matter how bad the odds are, keep going!
Addendum: same asshole captain called me during my holiday and demanded I come back to Scott AFB IMMEDIATELY. I called the duty sergeant and he went to the boss and the boss told the asshole captain to stand down. The report was no big deal and wasn't needed until after the holidays anyway. Sheesh. Some men are idiots for power and really really hate women they perceive as encroaching on their territory.
