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How long does it take to get to Denver from Winnipeg?
Over 25 hours, it turns out, if you fly Air Canada.
Let me recount for you, Nexties, my wild adventure trying to get to and from the Mile High City last week.
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I get to the airport bright and early on Sunday morning for a 5:50 a.m. flight to Vancouver, and then a connection on to Denver. This is already kind of an annoying route, but flights via Minneapolis were out of my price range.
My 5:50 a.m. flight is delayed to 7 a.m. (OK) then delayed again to 10:30 a.m. (ugh) then canceled entirely (cool cool cool).
I’m rebooked on a 1:45 pm flight, this time to Toronto. I will have spent a nine-hour layover in the city I live in and am flying in the opposite direction of my destination, but you know what? Whatever gets me there.
The flight to Toronto leaves 40 minutes late for reasons unclear, so when I land at Pearson, my 90-minute connection has become a tight 50 — but not really, because the boarding doors close 15 minutes prior to departure. I actually intentionally didn’t select this route when I originally booked this trip because the connection seemed like a work of fiction.
I am not, under any circumstance, a runner. Like, even if I were being pursued by a bear, I’m pretty sure I would just let death come. But Nexties, I run. Nay, I sprint. I’m flying past slow-walkers and dodging roller bags. I record my first-ever running activity on my smartwatch booking it to security and then, ugh, customs.
I am still in the cattle line at passport control at 6:25 p.m. for my 6:30 pm flight to Denver. But hark! I get a text informing me they are holding the plane to 6:45 p.m. due to security delays. I silently pray I’m not the subject of one of those mortifying “paging passenger X, your flight has boarded and ready to leave” announcements.
I get to the gate at 6:37 and am told the flight is closed…
… or is it? An actively vomiting man (who is clearly having a worse day than I am — and who is, uh, really filling a FULLY TRANSPARENT shopping bag) has come off the plane.
The gate agent tells me to hold on (a glimmer of hope!). He prints me a new boarding pass (this is happening!). I sprint down the bridge (we’re doing this!). Somewhere, the Chariots of Fire theme starts playing.
… and then, record-scratch: I am met by a locked door with a keypad. I knock on the door.
Another gate agent comes down the bridge. “Sorry, there isn’t enough time,” she tells me in a tone that suggests to me she is not, in fact, sorry. I will not be going to Denver tonight after all.
Denver — real place, or merely mythical destination? (David Zalubowski / The Associated Press files)
I march up to customer service at Pearson and am assisted by a helpful man who reminds me of character actor Tom Noonan. Tom Noonan rebooks me for the following day on the only route available which — brace yourselves — involves connecting in Vancouver.
I’ll remind you that I am, at this time, in Toronto. I am trying to get to — and I cannot stress this enough — Denver.
“Well that’s (expletive) horrible, but if it’s the only way…” I say, and then apologize for swearing. It’s not Tom Noonan’s fault. I’m just disappointed. I’m sweaty. Tears are springing from my face like a cartoon. My mouth tastes terrible.
Tom Noonan begins clickety-clacking on his keyboard. He glances at me. “They have you in the middle seat but let me, uh… change that.” Love a man who can read the room.
Then he winces and tells me they might be out of airport hotel rooms. I inform him he’ll have to “build one,” but luckily, he finds me a) amusing and b) an airport hotel room. I eat a $24 room-service burger in bed and it is the best moment of this hellish day.
I wake up bright and early on Monday for the long-haul flight I now have to take across the country. I get my coffee and go to the gate. I get a notification on my phone. The flight to Vancouver is delayed.
I finally make it to Denver, some 25 hours later than planned. I am pretty sure the woman I met who was supposed to be on my original Vancouver flight from Winnipeg made it to her final destination of Kuala Lumpur before I made it to Denver.
I wish I could tell you this is where this story ends but ho ho, no.
On Thursday, after spending a very fun (but truncated) 2.5 days in Denver, we’re ascending out of Denver International Airport toward Toronto and something seems… wrong. We start making a series of turns, suggesting we’re circling.
The pilot comes on over the speaker and informs us that they’ve received an alert that the cargo door isn’t latched properly and, while it’s likely just a sensor error, we’ll have to return to Denver to get it checked out. Which, fine, safety, but UGH.
We’ll now be landing at Pearson at the same time my 6 p.m. flight to Winnipeg is leaving. I’m rebooked on an 8 p.m. flight, which is delayed to 10 p.m. because of course it is. During this time, I receive two pieces of confusing communications from the airline: an email saying my flight is leaving the next day and one saying it’s leaving earlier (lol).
I finally make it home to Winnipeg after midnight. The worst part of all of this?
We used to have a direct flight from Winnipeg to Denver.
As regular readers of this newsletter know, I’ve travelled in a late-pandemic landscape and have a reasonable amount of luck, but this was a real trip on Air Farce One, let me tell you.
But it could be worse: Canada’s chief accessibility officer Stephanie Cadieux arrived in Vancouver only to discover that Air Canada had, appallingly, left her wheelchair in Toronto.
I want to hear your travel horror stories. Has it gotten worse? Where have you been stranded? Commiserate with me!
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