Dear Liza. There’s a dent in my plane, Dear Liza, a dent.
And so here I sit at JFK, waiting to find out if the dent can be repaired or if the plane is no longer airworthy. The most annoying part is that apparently the cargo folks noticed it as soon as the plane landed but they didn’t get around to trying to fix it until departure time. Not really sure what they were waiting for, but here I sit with 150 new friends, waiting to find out if we get to fly today or not.
On the plus side, the reservations agent I called was able to block a seat for me on the next flight out, so I’m pretty well set in that regard. But I really don’t want to sit here another 3 hours to use that benefit.
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