Apparently chivalry is dead…

So the painful part of traveling to SXSW is nearly over. As I write this I’m on a connecting flight from Dallas to Austin, JUST!

The flight from Heathrow to Dallas was uneventful. We arrived at Dallas airport with two hours to spare before our connecting flight at 17:00 (local time), then the fun began. I won’t bore you with the details of every queue we waited in, but things got interesting when 17:05 hit and me and Craig hadn’t even re-checked-in our bags and collected our boarding passes.

Here’s a summary of the hilarity. I lose Craig completely and run (literally) into Dan Oliver, Oliver Lindberg and Tom May from .net magazine. We throw our cases at some guy who’s shouting at us that our flight is leaving and we need to get our tickets. We sprint for our tickets, push in front of a queue insisting we need our boarding passes now! We get them and rush up an escalator to security. I run into Craig outside security, he hasn’t got his ticket, “Down the steps!” I shout at him, “We’re never going to catch this plane.” he mutters under his breath as he dashes back down the escalators.

Toms in front of me at security, he goes through the metal detector and just as I follow him through time stands still for a second. A maintenance guy is working on another metal detector beside the one we’ve just passed through, he’s removed one of the panels and it’s slipped from his grip. It falls with a hell of a bang, landing right between me and Tom. Tom went white, we’re talking potential lost toes territory, but we have no time to worry about it. I step over the panel and collect my stuff ushering Tom to keep moving.

Craig’s caught up and the five of us clear security and continue to sprint through the airport. We have to catch a bloody tram to reach gate A16. By this point, as you can imagine, we’re all knackered and sweating our tits off. None of us are in the best of shape to begin with. As the clock ticks while we’re waiting for the train our panting for breath is accompanied by the sound of elevator music. Surreal!

We board the tram, agreeing with each other that we’ll never catch this plane. Three girls behind us ask if we’re catching the 17:00 flight, it’s 17:20 by this point, we tell them we are and they seem pleased that they’re heading to the right place. While on the tram I idly ask Craig what seat he has, not that it really mattered at this point, he checks his ticket, “22B” he say’s, “You can’t be” I reply “that’s my seat.” we compare tickets, they’re identical, both with my name on them. “Shit! They printed your ticket for me!” Craig exclaims, “We’re never going to catch this plane” he mutters. “It will be fine” we all assure him.

We reach the gate at full speed, the wheels on my pull-along hand luggage skidding round a corner like some kind of miniature racing car. The woman at the gate declares that there are only five seats left, “We’re all together!” the five of us chorus thrusting our passports in her face. By this point the girls from the train had caught up with us. “OK, you five and that’s it, no more space” she tells the girls who start protesting as we proceed to board the plane.

Who said chivalry is dead?