Stuck Inside of Memphis With the Austin Blues Again

I am in Memphis, Tennessee tonight -- and not of my own volition. I was on my way home to Austin, and was changing planes when they announced the Austin leg of my flight had been canceled. Shit.

The Northwest Airlines "customer service representative," an unpleasant woman named Diane, tells us that "the pilot has decided it is not safe to fly to Austin." I ask her if the airport in Austin is closed, since there may be other flights still going that way. She repeats, a little icily this time, what she's already said. I ask her if any other airlines are still flying into Austin, and she repeats her mantra again, this time even a little more icily.

By now I am getting pissed off. I say, "Well, since you're not telling us that the airport's closed and you're not telling us that no other planes are going in or out, can we assume that this is a Northwest cancellation and you're putting us up for the night?" I can hear some murmurs behind me.

"Oh, no," she intones, now completely glacial. "This is a weather-related cancellation and Northwest Airlines is not responsible for putting you up."

And so it goes. No, she does not know when flights to Austin will resume. No, she does not know where our bags are, or whether we can pick them up. I book a seat on tomorrow's 1:35 p.m. flight to Austin and head off to look for a hotel. As I am leaving the counter area, Diane announces over the loudspeaker that passengers need to go to kiosks or phones located around the terminal to book their flights, since she has to close down her counter. I hear her telling a co-worker that she's not going to miss the Golden Globes tonight.