Southwest Airlines. Their motto and enchanting ding tone are becoming as familiar as McDonald’s golden arches, as Budweiser’s Clydesdales, or as Nike’s swish logo. I discovered yesterday that their slogan is more literal than I ever would have guessed. Thanks to Southwest, in the span of a 15-hour period, I saw two oceans, Canada, the Great Lakes, the Great Plaines, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, the Rocky Mountains, the Hotel Del Coronado, the painted dessert, and Mexico.
It’s a funny story, really. My flight left Providence, Rhode Island, at 6:40 in the morning bound for Tucson, Arizona, with a layover in Chicago’s wind and wild weather. The flight took us to the edge of the Canadian border, over the great lakes, and down to Chi Town. The plane got in okay, but when I landed I saw that my connecting flight to Tucson was cancelled. In fact, any flight scheduled after 10:30 AM was cancelled. Oy. Now what?
“We can send you to Las Vegas where you can try and get on standby for one of the three flights heading to Tucson,†the Southwest agent said.
I knew staying in Chicago meant that I could be there for days depending on when the impending snow storm was going to let up. Okay. Las Vegas. Big buffets. Gambling. I could get stuck there.
Our Sin City-bound plane was one of the very last flights to leave Chicago before the storm. They flew a southern route, so we got a great look at the Grand Canyon, snow rimmed, painted, amazing. As the plane neared touchdown I saw the famous Las Vegas strip. The Bellagio, the MGM Grand, and the Excalibur all beckoned from a distance.
“All the flights to Tucson are completely booked,†the Southwest agent told me in Las Vegas. “But I can get you over to San Diego where you can catch a flight back to Tucson… the flight leaves in 40 minutes.â€
Okay, San Diego… nice weather. Good Mexican food. I could get stuck there.
The flight was fast, and there was Mexico, Southern California, and the Pacific Ocean. Nice.
“Yes, we can get you on the next flight to Tucson. It leaves in an hour.â€
Woo hoo! Tucson. I could get stuck there. At 5:30 PM the plane touched down at my final destination. At baggage claim I made another discovery. Not only was I free to move about the country, but so was my luggage. While I was checking out various oceans and national points of interest, my bag thought it would be fun to take some different flights, to see some other cities.
So I hit the “Gas City†truck stop off of I-10 and picked up a “Gas City†t-shirt (so I could change clothes), and some toiletry basics. That night I’d be roughing it, I guess.
Southwest called me the morning to let me know that my bag had indeed finally arrived. I asked the company representative (and my bag) where they had gone, neither said a word. However I saw lipstick stains on my luggage and it smelled like booze. So wherever it went, it must have had a good time. Between my bag and myself, we freely moved about the country, all in a single exhausting day.