Two days in and no closer than Newark

So here we were, 36 hours after we checked in with United in Kansas City, MO, and officially launched the Fjørdgasm: In Newark, New Jersey, still a good 20 hours away from landing in Oslo. A day at Newark Liberty with a not-quite-two-year-old was not part of the plan, damnit, but United Airlines and this mess of an airport had other plans.

Mia, despite having apparently decided sleep is overrated, has been delighted and a delight, though; I'm starting to think she thrives on this, and maybe we should spend more time in airports.

She likes airplanes.

But let me tell you what happened …

Dry-eraser coloring book, one of several life savers Traci bought for us. Traci rocks.

Mia, Lilie, Emma, and I had been at Newark Liberty since 10:30 in the morning, when we landed from Kansas City on the flight that was supposed to be there yesterday, 18 hours earlier, in time for us to get on our non-stop flight to Oslo. Instead of getting happily whisked off directly to Oslo on schedule, we claimed a set of outlets (a precious resource at that airport) and set up base camp at the gate in Newark Liberty with 12 hours to go before we would board for Copenhagen.

The first of those two hours in New Jersey I spent on the phone trying to figure out why a United agent in Kansas City had tagged our luggage through to Oslo on a flight that left the day before. And why she told us very specifically that we had been booked on a flight we later found out we hadn't been booked on. And why United's Web site showed a different itinerary than SAS's. United sent me to SAS. SAS told me to call the travel agency. And each call meant a half hour on hold waiting for an agent, who the IVR kept telling me was just thrilled to be able to serve me if I'd just hang on a little longer. Well, turned out the lady who checked us in this morning was full of it. We were flying out of Newark at 11:30 pm for Copenhagen, not 6:55 pm for Oslo.

This morning, we had woken up at four to make our flight at seven. That's the flight that first got delayed thanks to maintenance issues, and then a massive fustercluck at Newark as a flight skidding off the runway put flights on hold for hours. Through it all, as we waited in Kansas City, United does what airlines do: They strung us along one hour at a time.

Which … why? Why do airlines do this, calling delays in increments while you wait, even when clearly whatever is going on isn't going to resolve itself any time soon? If restaurants operated like that we'd storm the kitchen: We're sorry, your entree will be slightly delayed. Then, Your entree will be 30 minutes delayed. 20 minutes, later, Your entree will be 45 minutes delayed. Thank you for your patience 44 minutes later, We're sorry, due to the earlier gas explosion and cholera outbreak in the kitchen, there will be a 50 minute delay.

United Airlines, of course, figured the pile-up of traffic at Newark Liberty after an incident shut down the airport for over an hour would magically resolve itself and we'd be allowed to head that way any minute now. And didn't decide until we'd all waited in Kansas City for six hours to just reschedule for the next day.

Power naps on Emma. Five minutes provides enough charge for another few hours of Whee! Airport!.

Through it all, Mia yodeled, warbled, chattered, and laughed, fortified only with snacks, $4 milk cartons, and the occasional five-minute nap. That's after getting up at 4 am to head to the airport. This baby likes to travel.

And eventually, even United Airlines' best effort couldn't prevent us from boarding a flight in the general direction of Norway. A helpful SAS gate agent resolved our baggage problem by literally walking down to the bag room to locate our stuff himself and clean up United's mess. So not only did we actually fly out, but our luggage came with.

Lessons learned this long day:

• Do not book connecting tickets separately. With airlines, there's something magical called an itinerary.
  • If you do buy two connecting flights at the same moment in time, they become special, and the airlines will be responsible for you making that connection or rebooking you if you don't.
  • If you buy the same damn tickets separately, let's say five minutes apart, then if you miss a connection the airlines have no responsibility whatsoever — miss your connecting flights, and it's your own fault. It's the same as if you missed the flight because you felt like sleeping in that day.
  This is true even when your flights are partner airlines, as SAS and United are.
• Avoid United.
• Avoid Newark.*

This baby thinks we should spend more time in airport terminals.

* Clearly I don't learn. I said the same thing a few years ago, after an absurd series of experiences at Newark (among others, people paid to show travellers which way to go who, it turned out, were just randomly pointing people in whichever direction. And yet, the allure of a direct flight to Oslo, of which there isn't a plethora, was too strong and I broke my promise never, ever to fly Newark. This time it'll be fine! Surely they've made improvements since then! Badum-tsch!.

Well, let me tell you … transfer from terminals B and C was a bus, which we reached only because Newark pays random employees to tell you where it is rather than print, you know, signs. Take the elevator three floors up, then over three, then down two, then take your second left, third right, go up the stairs, then first left. Then you find a bus outside, the driver of which is on break and asks you “tmnlaohbe”, because enunciation is not part of the job description. We disembarked at Terminal B at a loading dock, where another employee was busy flushing rancid trash down a drain, from there to climb a dingy staircase. It all looked like a set-up for being herded into containers for shipment to sinister overlords. Emma's comment was, “This is like some Saw thing here.&rduo;

Don't fly through Newark.