Around 6AM on Sunday, June 15, 2014, I awoke, fingers reaching for the key to waken my sleeping companion — my 11 inch MacBook Air. Every night, the Air lulls me to sleep with its tinny speakers, the voices of my favorite tech experts updating me on the day’s news while my mind gradually loosens and dissolves into unconsciousness. Every morning, the Air shares with me any emails that may have arrived overnight. This morning, however—this Sunday—I awoke to but one email, the title of which snapped my mind from that in between state, where the dream you were having still dominates your emotions and thoughts, to a fully awake state, where the mind focuses sharply on the details of waking reality.
Please Call Us Immediately Regarding Your 6/16/14 Flight
My hand clumsily slams onto the trackpad, revealing the rest of the message: “Dear Expedia Traveler, We have received notice from Icelandair that they have made significant changes that impact your itinerary. We must speak with you as soon as possible to discuss the airline’s available options, which may be VERY limited.”
I flip over to locate my other sleeping companion — the Droid Maxx by Motorola — but it’s in the other room, so I lurch out of bed, blankets trailing behind me across the floor in twisted clumps of fabric. I crash into the table beside my couch (I haven’t yet donned my glasses, and I’m quite blind without them), knocking an iPad Mini and a stack of papers onto the floor before grasping the phone and pulling it from its charger.
After I rejoin my computer in the bedroom, I dial the number provided, and after several attempts to speak with a representative, Jason (who’s real name is definitely “Jason” and is certainly not Indian despite his poorly masked accent) calmly informs me my flight has been cancelled. “Why?” I ask. “A labor strike at the airport in Iceland,” he answers.
Let me pause for a moment to explain that barely three minutes have passed since I awoke, so, based upon my slurring of words and lack of understanding his accent, “Jason” must think I am on drugs (which I am) or crazy (see: drugs). He assures me he can easily reschedule the flight to this very day, so I hover over the phone like a nervous high school student waiting for my college rejection call. “Jason” comes back after a few minutes, triumphantly explaining that he booked a new flight and to expect a confirmation within five minutes.
An hour later and no confirmation in sight, I again phone Expedia, this time talking to “Max” (also assuredly not from a call center in India). “Max” was unable to confirm the new flight, so I went ahead and booked directly with Icelandair, which, unfortunately, only had “Saga Class” seats available. Well, there goes another $850…
After several more hours on the phone with Icelandair, Expedia, and my travel agency, the situation was sorted, and I began to run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off (or, to use my uncouth simile from earlier, like a Ben with his hemorrhoids cut off) in preparation for my trip. But everything was good! I packed, I pooped, and I arranged for a car to pick me up. Then, forty-five minutes before the car was to arrive, I received the following text: “Citi Cards Fraud Department. Did you attempt a barge at SIMPLEMOBILE*AI in the amount of $66.35 on 06-15?”
Why, no, I did not, Mrs. Fraud Department. And why, yes, I do believe someone has stolen my credit card number and is using it to purchase SIM cards and other untraceable cell phones. So here I am, on the airplane, experiencing turbulence. A day early. A credit card short. A traveling Benjamin.