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Delayed, Not Denied: A Love Story Between Me and Gate C19

Delayed, Not Denied: A Love Story Between Me and Gate C19

You never forget your first long flight delay. It starts as a whisper over the loudspeaker—soft, almost seductive. ā€œLadies and gentlemen, your flight has been delayed by 30 minutes. We apologize for the inconvenience.ā€

Ah. The optimism. The belief that this is temporary. That the airline has your back. Spoiler alert: they do not.


šŸ•’ Stage 1: Denial (and Snacks)

I hear ā€œ30 minutes,ā€ and I think, ā€œCool, more time to grab a snack.ā€ So I drop $12 on a granola bar and an iced coffee that tastes like betrayal. I find a seat near Gate C19, plug in my phone, and settle in like I’m just visiting.

Foolish. I was not visiting. I was moving in.


šŸ« Stage 2: Airport Survival Mode

Thirty minutes turn into ninety. Ninety becomes three hours. I’ve eaten all the snacks I packed ā€œjust in case,ā€ including the emergency chocolate meant for emotional stability in foreign countries.

I now know every overpriced food item within a 100-yard radius. I’ve stared into the eyes of every person working at Hudson News. We nod at each other like, ā€œYou again?ā€


šŸ§ Stage 3: You Start Recognizing the Locals

By hour four, you form silent bonds with your fellow delay victims. You don’t speak, but the eye contact says it all:

ā€œWe are the forgotten. The chosen ones. The residents of Gate C19.ā€

I start giving people nicknames.

  • Business Dad is pacing aggressively on a Bluetooth call.

  • Loud iPad Kid is watching cartoons at full volume.

  • And Terminal TikToker is doing a full dance routine in front of Gate C21. I respect the hustle.


šŸ“± Stage 4: Me vs. the Airline App

I refresh the airline app like it’s about to DM me a miracle. Instead, it gaslights me:

ā€œOn time.ā€
ā€œDelayed.ā€
ā€œBoarding.ā€
ā€œJust kidding.ā€

At this point, I don’t know whether to board or build a life here.


šŸŖ‘ Stage 5: You Claim a Charging Spot—It’s Yours Now

I find a single empty outlet next to a trash can and guard it like it’s the last slice of pizza on Earth. People eye it. I hiss. I’ve become feral.

There’s no more dignity here—just cold tile floors, a dying phone, and dreams deferred.


āœˆļø Stage 6: The Final Twist

Suddenly, there’s movement. Hope. The announcement: ā€œWe’re ready to begin boarding.ā€ A cheer erupts. Strangers high-five. Tears are shed. It’s beautiful.

Then the plot twist: you board… and sit on the plane for another hour while the pilot ā€œwaits for clearance.ā€ I contemplate opening a snack stand in Row 22.


šŸ’€ Epilogue: I Survived, But at What Cost?

Eventually, we take off. I land at my destination five hours late, emotionally wrecked but spiritually stronger. They say travel teaches you patience and perspective. I say it teaches you how to stretch one phone charge across three iOS updates.

Would I do it all again? Absolutely. But next time, I’m bringing a pillow, a charger with two USB ports, and enough snacks to survive the apocalypse.

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