Flight Cancellations & More: The Roller Coaster Ride of Fleeing Coronavirus

Panic didn’t really set in for us until borders started closing and flights being cancelled. In my previous blog post (Love in the Time of Coronavirus), I wrote that after it was clear our March 30 KLM flights from Malaga to Amsterdam to Edmonton would not go, we booked March 22 Air France flights from Malaga to Paris to Toronto to Calgary (a 3 hour drive south of our home in Edmonton). On March 18 we got an email from Air France gently titled “Information regarding your flights.” My eyes quickly jumped to the line reading, “your flight AF5053 on 22MAR between MALAGA and PARIS has been cancelled, and unfortunately, we cannot rebook you at this moment.”

OK, now what? “We invite you to modify or cancel your trip via our web site ,” it continued. Looking at the website, there was no alternative that would get us even close to home, because everything went via Paris. We finally managed to get through to the call center, disregarding its plea to hang up if our flight was not in the next 72 hours (we were close to that). The kind rep said the best he could do would be to book us on the same series of flights for three days later, March 25. “But I have to warn you,” he said apologetically, “I can’t guarantee that the March 25 flights will go ahead either.” Since that was our next best alternative, we booked it anyway.

The Malaga – Paris flight was operated by a smaller, partner airline. We were watching one small airline after another stop flying. It became increasingly clear that the one we were booked on was unlikely to fly to Paris on March 25. We needed another option.

In the early evening (Spain time) of March 18 DH got an email from his department chair at the University of Alberta asking if we were OK. DH asked if maybe the University’s travel agent could find us a way home, because we weren’t able to find anything online.

Despite DH’s long-standing complaints about the University’s travel service, they sure came through this time. Within an hour we got a call from them telling us that they had us booked on flights the next morning, from Malaga to Amsterdam to Toronto to Edmonton. Yay! These were flights that hadn’t even shown to us when we tried to book something online. Sometimes you really do need a travel agent.

Yes, it would involve more airports than we’d hoped. Yes it meant that we had now paid for three expensive sets of tickets. But at least we’d be able to get home. (Assuming no more border closures hit us in the next 24 hours.)

We scrambled to pack, downed our last bottle of Spanish wine, brought a pile of our groceries to the neighbour along with a spare key for our apartment just in case the first flight got cancelled and we needed to get back in. We were concerned about it, because the system would not let us choose seats when we checked in. Maybe they had oversold?

The next morning we headed to the Malaga airport. The lineups to check in were long, but there weren’t many flights going, so we were able to space ourselves out from other people. A grey-bearded Dutch man in front of us had a coughing fit. I offered him one of our masks. He was offended and refused to put it on. Seriously? Even if it was just that something had caught in his throat, just put the damn thing on to reassure the people around you!

I was impressed by how efficiently they checked people in and got us through security. The flight was half-empty. I was glad, because it meant we could space out a bit, but I couldn’t help wondering why the heck this flight hadn’t even showed up as an option online.

Schiphol Airport, in Amsterdam, was eerie. Normally one of the busiest airports in the world, it felt dead. As we flew in we saw scores of KLM airplanes resting idly around the periphery of the airport. The stores were almost all shut. The hallways echoed. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 5:35 p.m. We heard that the international section of the airport was going to be shuttered at 7:00 p.m. We looked at the departure boards. Almost all flight were cancelled. Would ours be next?

What a relief when we boarded the plane. Again, it was only just over half full. Sad, given that so many people were desperately trying to find flights home. KLM was simply too overwhelmed to be able to cope with getting people booked into those seats.

The man next to me smelled awful. He was a heavy smoker, and also had major body odour. But when he told me that he’d been trapped in the Orly airport for nearly 20 hours trying to get from Morocco back to Canada, I understood why he smelled so unwashed. Nevertheless, I ended up wearing a mask for much of the time just to filter the stench.

We rushed through the Toronto airport because we had to get our bags, clear customs, transfer the bags to WestJet and board our plane all within an hour and a half. We made it, but with only minutes to spare. It was their last flight of the night and we really didn’t want to be stuck in the Toronto airport overnight.

Another half-empty flight. Unfortunately, again I had smelly people near me: this time behind me. They were wearing some awful clove-scented goop that gave me asthma. Again I wore the mask so that I could breathe, even though it was hot and scratchy.

Our worst airport experience was in Edmonton. The flight landed at 12:39 a.m. We were the only flight in the airport. But still it took them half an hour to get the baggage out! Crazy!

We had pre-booked a car to pick us up at the Edmonton airport. Our daughter couldn’t do it because she was also supposed to be in isolation, as her roommate had just returned from a trip. (Also I didn’t want to drag her out at one in the morning on the day of an exam! Although their classes have all switched to online, the medical students are still having exams. We are going to be needing all the doctors we can get!) I’m glad we had booked it, because there were no taxis in sight.

What a relief it was to get home and to sleep in our own cozy bed.