Part III: N Ft Myers and Home Again, Home Again (2025)

Whew - finally! I'm going to go ahead and publish this as my third and final installment of last year's traumatic flying experience to Florida and back. Mostly because it took me a long time to write and, well, I just wanna publish it! Enjoy...

Next blog is already in the works and it's current. Yahoo! 

Driving to N Ft Myers in Florida in February was good – mostly because I was not the one driving. Melinda was. And she has had a lot of practice in the past few years driving around Florida and back and forth between Florida and Ohio. So I was able to sit back and relax despite the heavy traffic.

 

I had never been to that part of Florida before. The weather was a little nicer than my trip had been thus far, although we did have some rain and thunderstorms. Evidently, Mother Nature did not receive my order for sunshine and temps in the 80s for that week.

 

Melinda and Dan’s new home is beautiful. The nightly sunsets from their back porch (or lanai or whatever it is called in Florida) were just spectacular. And, even though I was told they were there, I never saw evidence of any alligators, which are supposedly lurking about in the ponds around the complex.

 

We drove to Sanibel and Anna Maria Island; two places I’ve certainly heard about but had never been.

 

That day was beautiful and sunny and warm, but the traffic was pretty crazy with lots of tourists having the same idea we had. Still, it’s always lovely to see the sand and surf and I’m always happy around water.

 

Instead of trying to find a place to park and eat in either one of these islands, we drove to the main drag in Ft Myers and sat outside under an umbrella at a cute little coal fired pizza joint. We ate our lunch and people watched. It was a wonderful day and I didn’t even get sunburned. That’s a win-win in Jane’s Domain, for sure.

 

The next day we explored Ft. Myers and stood on the white sandy beach and watched the clouds roll in before a storm.

 

Again, I’d never been to that part of Florida before but the evidence of Hurricane Ian and the devastation it wrought was clear. There were so many buildings that had either been razed or were just beginning to be rebuilt. Trailers with construction trucks and workers were everywhere. I mentioned that the ocean was clearly visible from the road and was told that pre-hurricane, you could hardly see the ocean from the road. 

 

I have to give props to all those Floridians who are determined to rebuild after these hurricanes. One threat of a storm surge and I’d be on my way inland to higher ground. Permanently.

 

We spent those three days talking and eating out and enjoying one another’s company. Melinda and I toured their huge community from the comfort of their golf cart and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

 

And Melinda is always willing to share with me where we are and what interstate we’re on and what bridge we’re crossing. Even though she knows I’m directionally challenged and I don’t know if I’m north, south east or west even if I was holding a compass. And I wouldn’t be able to retrace our steps on any subsequent visit anyway. But it’s kind of her to think I’m that adept at directions.

 

The day arrived for me to leave and Melinda, being the extremely generous and kind friend she is, drove me to the Ft. Myers airport.

 

Since I was using credit card points and was leaving from a different airport than when I arrived, this was on a different carrier. I hoped that I’d have a better homebound experience, but, um…not so much.

 

At least I didn’t oversleep. And I was bright enough to ensure it was an afternoon flight but not so late that it coincided with rush hour traffic. (I do try to be a good guest so that people will not be reticent in asking me back for a repeat visit.)

 

I got through security and arrived at my gate thinking I was in for a smooth trip. There were no weather-related delays on either end – so no lightning-struck planes. Or at least, I hoped.

 

I found myself a seat at the gate and settled in for the wait before boarding. I pulled out my iPad in anticipation of getting in a few chapters of my Book Club book when suddenly I heard,

 

"…CORDova? Or CorDOVa? However you say your name?" she said. "Would you please come to the ticket counter."

 

Sigh. I just shook my head and gathered my things. She didn’t even include my first name. And, besides, how difficult is the name “Cordova” to pronounce anyway?

 

I walked up to the counter and the gate attendant told me that the plane that was supposed to go to Charlotte had been changed to another type of plane and it was configured differently. So she asked me to voluntarily give up my seat. If I didn’t give up my seat, I could be moved involuntarily and it might not be as good a seat. Like a dreaded middle seat, for example.

 

Sigh.

 

I was told I’d get a flight credit, but still needed to move. I asked her if she could get me a seat on the left side of the plane at the window and she said the only one available was 27A. All the way at the back of the plane.

 

Sigh.

 

So I said fine. I told her I needed extra time to get to my seat, so I’d still like to get on the plane first and she said okay. Since arthritis has taken a toll on my knees and I’m going to need knee replacements on both knees in the not-too-distant future, I’ve had to add a cane to my daily ensemble. (Talk about feeling and looking old.)

 

Anyway, she assured me I could still get on the carrier first and handed me a revised ticket with Seat 27A printed on it. She also asked me if I’d like her to book me a wheelchair once we arrived in Charlotte and I said what the heck, sure.

 

Good thing, too, but don’t let me get ahead of myself.

 

When it came time to board, the gate attendant walked over to me and had me board first. I was still a little disgruntled but appreciated their effort on my behalf.

 

I walked toward the back of the plane and was completely flummoxed. Why? Because the last row on the plane was 26. And I was supposed to sit in Row 27!

 

I again shook my head and asked the two flight attendants who were standing in the back of the plane what was happening. I showed them my ticket and explained what had happened at the gate and they told me to sit in 26A and we’d get it sorted out later.

 

And then, of course, the person who was supposed to be sitting in Row 26 came back only to find me in his seat.

 

There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling as other passengers were seated in the wrong seats. Like, for example, those people who had paid extra for exit rows who were not seated in the exit rows.

 

Turns out, it was a different plane – but it had the same configuration as the original plane. And all those changes made by the gate attendants were not necessary.

 

Sigh.

 

After all the passengers were finally seated, I hear the flight attendant call, “Cordova” up to the front of the plane. OMG. I had to gather my crap once again and stumble all the way to the front of the plane. I was not in my original seat assignment but was in a window seat on the other side of the plane. Which meant I could hear absolutely no one.

 

And the man seated to my left who was busily slurping on a double gin and tonic blearily told me he was a nervous flier and proceeded to chatter away to me.

 

When I was finally able to get in a word, I told him that I was sorry but I was unable to hear him due to being 100% deaf in my left ear. He did the annoying “WHAT?” thing that wasn’t really funny back in the third grade – so he really did not endear himself to me.

 

When he ordered another double gin and tonic and started watching a movie on his tablet, I figured I was going to be able to read my book in peace. And I was. The rest of the flight was uneventful – except we were late arriving in Charlotte due to all the seat swapping at the beginning.

 

When we disembarked, I was happy to have someone shuttle me from Point A to Point B in the wheelchair because we were so late in arriving, I‘m not sure I could have hobbled to my departure gate in time.

 

I told the guy pushing the wheelchair that I really could get myself onto the plane – but he said he had nothing to do for a half hour and was happy to stand there with me. So what the heck. At least I had a seat – and would also be getting on the plane first.

 

But then disaster struck yet again.

 

When it was time to board the aircraft, he pushed me up to the gate attendant who scanned my boarding pass and said, “Uh oh…”

 

I said, “Oh, no ‘uh oh’ please – that’s all I’ve heard every time I’ve tried to board a plane on this trip!”

 

Apparently, when I was moved to seat 27A on the previous flight, it cancelled my seat on this final leg of the journey.

 

Sigh. (I was getting a little out of breath from all the sighing I was doing, by this point.)

 

She quickly gave me another seat assignment toward the back of the plane and the wheelchair pusher guy wheeled me toward the entrance of the plane.

 

Suddenly, the gate attendant came running up and said, “I’ve put you in a seat closer toward the front!” She took the boarding pass I was holding and tore it up, but she didn’t hand me a new one.

 

And she told me what row it was in, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what it was once I got on the plane.

 

I have rarely been reassigned another seat in all the years I’ve been flying – let alone all four legs of this trip to Florida and back home.

 

Plus, I‘m one of those people who carefully selects her seat and pays extra for a better seat with more legroom just so that I’m as comfortable as possible on these flights.

 

Anyway, when I got on board, I told the flight attendant that I had no earthly clue what seat I was supposed to be in – that originally I was in X seat and then I was moved twice. She told me to just stand there with her and they’d get it sorted out.

 

A few minutes later a woman came on board and said to me, “I think they gave me your seat. Why don’t you sit there and I’ll sit farther back?”

 

Oh, the kindness of strangers.

 

I thanked her and got to my seat. I was in the bulkhead row, so I had all the legroom I wanted. The guy sitting next to me started drinking double scotches because he was a nervous flier, so I thought I was in for yet another “fun” ride, but he was happy to drink in silence. And I was happy to break out my iPad and read in peace.

 

I was never so glad to arrive back home from a trip. My extremely generous and kind friend Debbie was there to pick me up because her schedule had changed so I didn’t have to take an Uber.

 

And thus ended the flights from hell where I played Musical Seats on all four legs of my journey.

 

On the other hand, it was right around this time that a flight landing in Toronto skidded and flipped over during landing. Fortunately, all on board survived. But, yeah, my flights were way better than that.

 

So, see? I sometimes try to find the silver lining in things.

 

Nevertheless, I’m wondering if I should maybe drive the next time I head down to Florida? 

 

Happy trails, my friends. May all your travels this year be smooth sailing and worry-free.

 

Until next time…