Travel has become so automized. We book flights on an app, receive updates as texts, and can even track our bags as they fly from place to place. So we instantly know when a flight is cancelled, as it is just as quick to rebook on another flight. I am used to this way of traveling and was caught unawares when my flight home for the summer was canceled, due to a typhoon in Guam, with no clear chance of rebooking another within weeks.
I was delighted to find out from a parent of a student in my class, that there might be another way to fly out, with Air Marshall Islands. The only catch was that I had to be at the AMI office, packed and ready to go, within 2 hours. She could only hold the plane for me so long.
To make things more difficult, it was raining hard, and my only transport to the airport was my bike. I packed hurriedly, grabbed my passport and headed out into the rain, pulling my suitcase behind me. Because of the rain, all the hopeful passengers were crammed into the small office, where I waved to my parent contact to let her know I was here. No one asked for my name, my passport or any ID. The only actions taken were to weigh me and my bags, and accept payment for the flight in cash. No ticket was issued and no receipt was given. I wasn't even sure the time of departure or destination.
I waited to board in a small room piled high with boxes. Names were being called out and passengers walked out to the plane with umbrellas. The plane was ready to take off when someone notice me in the waiting room, and said, "Why didn't you get on?" As I ran out to the plane, I noticed my bag sitting by the exit. I grabbed it and carried it to the plane with me. As it didn't fit under the seat or in the overhead compartment, the flight attendant took it to a door at the back of the cabin where the cargo was held.
Only after take off did the same flight attendant come by to tell me we were headed for Wotje Island, but not to worry, after that we would go on to Majuro, the capital. I appreciated the heads up as we came down to land on the tiniest speck of an island with no visible run way. The flight was what my father would call a "puddle jumper". It flew in low over the island and came down on a strip of grass. No passengers were picked up, only a few coolers were loaded on. I appreciated being allowed out to look around, but was told not to go far. After about 10 minutes, the flight attendant called us back with a wave of the hand. Then we were off to Majuro, where we hoped to make a connecting flight.
This island is really a strip of land 30 miles long, but it has a proper runway and can receive international flights. The airport is far from efficient, and I was glad of the help of some fellow passengers who spoke English. They told me where to go to get my bags, which turned out to be wrong, but was a nice gesture. Of course there were no signs that said "Baggage Claim this way". We all wandered around the terminal until we finally found the bags in a garage. I'm glad I didn't have to prove the bags were mine, because I had no claim tags. I was very grateful to AMI for getting us here. I later found out that they had bumped several other passengers so some other teachers and I could take the seats. A friendly passenger had a pickup truck and offered to take us and our bags along the island's only road to a hotel for the night.
Not at all what I expected, but AMI did the job!
