My recent trip to Europe started out well enough. I picked up my travel mate and we headed to the airport with plenty of time to spare. At the airport, we made our way to the check in counter and were relieved to find only a handful of people waiting in line.

We joined the line and soon made our way to new self-check-in kiosks. This was the first time I’ve used them. I say, self-check-in, but there’s still a Delta employee there working a couple of the kiosks helping people out and attaching the required luggage tags. The check-in process was pretty painless and being a mutt techie/designer, was more interested in how the interface was designed and worked. Seemed to be far too many screens for the process, if you ask me, but wasn’t overly mundane.

We took our luggage over to security and dropped them off and made our way to have a quick snack before heading towards the gate. We still had about an hour before the flight was to depart, so I tried to get comfortable in those gawd-awful airport chairs and read a book. My mate looked through some of the gift shops.

The flight between Orlando and Atlanta was a booked flight, so the area around the gate filled up as boarding time approached.

Soon, we were onboard and getting set in our seats. The plane door was closed and the cabin crew was making the standard departure spiels. If you haven’t flown in a couple of years, there have been changes made onboard, one of the most noticeable for Delta has been the addition of playing a local radio station onboard before departure. It’s nothing big, but it adds a nice touch to getting on the plane and helps defuse the conversations around you.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Delta flight 55 on an American built airplane.”

I look over to my travel mate, “Why is it important that this is an American built plane?”

She shakes her head, “Don’t know.”

“Seems kind of strange that they would mention that.”

I mean, if we were departing out of Seattle on a Boeing jet, then I would understand an announcement along the lines of, “Welcome aboard Delta flight 55 on a jet built right here in Seattle.” But I was flying out of Orlando where nothing original was built. Sure, maybe, just maybe there were a few international visitors on board and Delta just wanted to emphasize that this seemingly reliable plane was American built, unlike those rental cars they just had to suffer with for most of their vacation. I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to see if this was a new trend for Delta and would listen on our next connection.

Now, at this point, we’re somewhere mid-flight and after we arrive in Atlanta, we have 45 minutes to make our next connection.

Yes. Yes, I know. Those of you who have connected through Atlanta are laughing hard right now because they know a little secret which I’ve forgotten. The scheduling of gate arrivals and departures is specifically designed so that your arriving flight is always on the opposite end of the airport from your departing one.

I’ll give you an example.

The flight I was currently on, which was somewhere over Florida, would be arriving at Gate 15 of Terminal T. My departing flight would be leaving from Gate 36 of Terminal E, which are terminals at opposite ends of the airport.

Forty-five minutes would be cutting it close.

And here is where the fun begins. As I had said, we were somewhere over Florida, over halfway through our flight when we hear this announcement:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, are there any medical personal on board?”

For those of you keeping count; that would be the first phrase you don’t want to hear on a plane when you’re flying to make a tight connection.

My heart skipped a beat or two for a few minutes as nobody seemed to be answering the call to provide medical assistance. The person who required such assistance was currently located about 15 rows in front of us, so I could easily see all of the action.

By that, I mean, I can see the cabin crew leaning over, talking to someone. Walking over and talking on the phone to the Captain, I presume. I’m sure there were conversations going on trying to figure out what to do next. Which was the exact conversation I was having with my travel mate.

“Well, we’re about 30 minutes from landing, so…”

I knew any diversion would mean we would miss our flight out of Atlanta and I wasn’t aware of when the next flight to Paris would be leaving for Delta. Most certainly, a diverted landing would mean our first day in Munich would be shot. Thoughts I didn’t share with my travel mate.

“I’m not sure where we are, but we have to be equal distances from Tallahassee, Jacksonville and Atlanta, so not sure diverting the flight would make sense.”

I’m sure these types of conversations were going on all over the plane. In the meantime, a couple from a several rows behind us made their way up to the cabin crew and started working with the ill passenger. I think they were medics.

The guy in question was sweating profusely and not feeling well. I wanted to stand up and yell, “Jesus Christ, he’s flying on an American built jet! What do you expect?”

“On the plus side,” I said quietly, “this might get us priority landing at Atlanta.”

Now, I don’t want to say that I didn’t have empathy for the guy or anything. But, you know, I’ve got a tight connection to make. Turns out he was diabetic. I wasn’t sure if he knew that before or decided this was the moment to find out.

Either way, we landed and taxied into Atlanta to the gate. At the gate, everyone volunteered to wait until the medics came on board and helped the gentleman off the plane (which he was able to walk off, btw). Oh, and by volunteer, I mean we were told to wait in our seats until the medics arrived.

Needless to say, my watch became my new best friend. And I started mumbling phrases I haven’t heard since I dated a girl who worked for the Justice Department in Washington DC. “Come on baby, slow down. Slow down!”

As the guy was walking off the plane, I looked out to where the trucks were just arriving for the luggage.

“Think our luggage will make the transfer?”

“I don’t know.”

Finally, we were up and slowly making our way off the plane. There was still time enough that we didn’t have to run, but we did walk at a quick pace to get down to the trams that took us between terminals.

We got on and soon the tram was stopping at the next terminal.

“Now arriving,” said the recorded voice, “Terminal A. Terminal Alpha”

Two minutes later.

“Now arriving, Terminal B. Terminal Beta”

My travel partner asked, “What’s E?”

“Echo.”

Several minutes later, we arrive at Terminal Echo and make our way up towards the gates. Walking a little more briskly down the terminal. We arrive at the gate, the plane already boarded with most of the people.

I hand my ticket and passport to the crew at the gate. She look at it and says, “One moment.”

And here comes the second phrase you don’t want to hear…

She walks over to the crew behind the counter and says quietly, “Is this seat still assigned to this person?”

My mind races wondering what would happen if they gave our seats to someone who was on standby. I work part-time with someone who is also part of a cabin-crew, but for a different airline, perhaps I should ask him, because luckily the lady behind the counter says, “Yes, he’s still assigned to that seat.” And so was my travel mate.

So we make our way down to the plane and find our seats and soon were on our way over the pond.

But you know, none of the cabin announcements mentioned if the plane we were on was built in America or not and at this point, I didn’t think to ask.