BEST Excuse for a Cancelled Flight EVER

*Please note that this was written in haste by a very tired and cranky customer awaiting a very very very early flight.

Like any other flight I've taken to Chicago in recent history, my return flight had complications. This was not just any flight. This was a 6 AM flight on Monday morning at O'Hare. Which means I had to rise before the rooster at 3:30 to haul ass to the code orange terror alert airport. All of this effort would get me to work shortly after 9, ready for a crunch week.

When I arrived at O'Hare and began checking-in via kiosk, the little screen informed me that my itinerary had changed. This was the roundabout way of telling me my early-as-!@#$ flight had been cancelled. Though they fly out every hour, the little man inside the check-in kiosk that controls the fate of unsuspecting customers could not guarantee me a seat until the 9 AM flight, but put me on standby for the 7 and 8. You can imagine my excitement to find that I was standing at a kiosk at 4:30 about to get into a ridiculous code orange security line for a flight that would depart in about five hours.

After I arrived at the gate for the 7 AM flight (the first of about 18 gate changes that eventually follow) to inquire about the standby list, I was directed to the customer service counter. When I entered that line, one of the "helpers" informed me that there was neither a printer nor paper at this counter if I needed any help with a new ticket. She went on to tell me that if I needed help with a ticket, I would have to go to the lobby. I said, "By lobby, do you mean the insane ticket counter out there?" That's exactly what she meant. Hmmm, that's interesting. My impression of being called a customer service desk was that you in fact serve the customer. So I tell her it was okay, I just want to see if I was priority on a standby list since my 6 AM flight was cancelled. To be honest, I really didn't have anything I needed help with if they couldn't put my 6 AM flight into the air, but I was annoyed and cranky from my three hours of sleep.

When I reached the counter, I was greeted by your standard airline customer service representative that appeared to be in her mid-50s but was probably in her mid-30s as I am sure her job adds a good 2 years onto her appearance each day. Our ever-frustrating conversation went something like this:

Me: My 6 am flight was cancelled.

My new arch-nemesis: Okaaa---.

Me: What are the chances I can get on the 7 AM flight?

My new arch-nemesis: Let's see. You're guaranteed a seat on the 9 AM flight.

Me: Yes, I know. What are the chances I can get on an earlier flight?

My new arch-nemesis: You have a guaran---

Me: What. Are. The. Chances. I. Can. Get. On. An. Earlier. Flight?

My new arch-nemesis: Everything is oversold, so probably not good. You have a seat on the 9 AM flight.

Me: Sigh. Do you know why my 6 am flight was cancelled?

My new arch-nemesis: Mechanical problems. They can't take off with mechanical problems.

Me: Yes, I know. I've heard it all by now. I'm just frustrated because I really needed to get to work and this is really messing up my day.

My new arch-nemesis: (smirking and nodding) It's Monday morning at O'Hare.

Sooooo?

My new arch-nemesis: Yep, sorry. These things happen on Mondays.

What does? Mechanical problems? Cancelled flights? Oversold situations? What exactly is it about a Monday that makes an airline different than any other day of the week? So, you're telling me that every six days you prepare yourself for a trillion unhappy customers because it's another Monday morning? Anyhow....

Me: (not understanding her illogical statement) Right, right. My flight was cancelled a couple months ago from O'Hare and that was a Sunday night.

My new arch-nemesis: Yep, that's what happens.

Let me guess, it was because "it was a Sunday night at O'Hare?"

Defeated, I hang my head and drag my carry-on luggage away from the counter back to one of the gates already crowded with standby passengers. As I take my seat to await my flight that was to depart in another four hours, I curl up in the fetal position and crank up my iPod in an effort to deal with the fact that it's Monday morning at O'Hare.

Let this be a lesson to all of you unsuspecting victims that may someday want to depart out of O'Hare on a Monday morning. The fact that it's the first day of the workweek in Chicago apparently is reason enough for you to change your itinerary (or they'll do it for you).