Mile High Drama Club

Despite the flight getting in early, and my initial hope that I would be back home and able to rest up a lot, I now sit in Denver International Airport waiting for my new flight. Getting in early would have helped getting to my connection back to Chicago, but unfortunately, mechanical problems scrubbed the flight. As soon as I got to that gate, they cancelled the flight and asked everyone to go to the service counter. Which is never a good thing.

Compound that with at least 2 other flights having been cancelled, and the United service counter was hopping. A snippet of what took place:

Ever meet a guy with a really loud, obnoxious voice? He was behind me, exaggerating to his friends how he only moved 10 people in an hour (more like 10 people in 20 minutes) and there was 100 people in front of us (more like 50) and all of this other stuff that he 'swore on the Bible' was true. I edged away from him, waiting for a ceiling light to magically become unhinged and fall on his head.

A younger guy 2-4 people in front of me calls out once he hears that flights to Chicago are getting full or overbooked, 'Is that going to O'Hare?!?' and suddenly he becomes agitated that he won't be able to get home. Well, there's a lot of us in that position right now. I didn't know what his story was, but he felt it was important enough to call out the service desk people.

But the thing that struck me like a thunderbolt from the blue was a slight woman who was talking on her cell phone from outlet to outlet in line. She was charging as she was winding her way through to the service desk. When she finally did turn to face me briefly, I was stunned. Not at her beauty, which was plain, with a gaunt look to her face, but at the red right eye, the heavy bruise alongside her face, down her neck, around her throat, and extending partially to the left side of her face.

I have never personally seen domestic violence before at this level. I've been witness to my parents' threats on occasion, but it never got to this point. She had been beaten. And my heart instantly went out to her, even though that she was about 10 people in front of me. Turns out she was also put on standby to Chicago. And as it turns out, she and I also did not make the standby, but that's where we've been seperated. I don't know where she is, only that I hope wherever she's running to, wherever she is running from, she never returns. She was getting sympathy from those who weren't afraid to approach her bruised, saddened face. I was going to do the same, to see if there was something I might be able to do, but the situation currently isn't allowing me to do so. Any sort of physical violence towards women makes my stomach churn. It is never warranted.

United's cancellations are having a ripple effect; at the next gate where I was trying to get on standby, there was a young businesswoman, trying to get on a flight that was overbooked by 11 people, and then had the standby list from the flight I was trying to get on. There was no way I was getting on that flight. She was visibly upset as she spoke with someone on the phone, trying to explain the situation. I approached to see if she was ok. She said she was, sniffed, then walked away.

Even the flight that I now have a seat on, is delayed from its scheduled departure by about an hour. Looks like I'll be camping out here in DIA, luckily not MIA yet.

[Update 9:30 pm Sunday Oct 4, O'Hare Int'l Airport]

She happened to be on the same flight as I was coming home. So I hung around, because I felt that I had to do or attempt to do something. I didn't know what, but I couldn't sleep if I didn't. After we all got off the plane, I made my introduction, which was easy enough based on our mutual nasty flight experience at DIA. She immediately apologized for her apperarance, which I dismissed as not important enough to not continue to talk to her. As we're walking and talking about finally making it to Chicago, and heading to baggage claim for rides and presumably bags, I ask her if she's ok. She says 'Yes, I'm fine, I was just in a horrible accident'.

Ok, this is ... better? At least it's not what I was thinking. So I was wrong. Whew. The conversation continues, as she asks me about the BreatheRight nasal strip I have on my nose, asking me if I'm ok. I'm just stuffed up. I picked up a sinus infection and chest congestion while I was out in California. Turns out she's a doctor, and Chicago is her home. She was out in Denver visiting her sister and her twin nieces. She says that she was frustrated that she couldn't get home sooner with the obvious bruising and problems that she has with her eye. They put her on a priority waitlist, but ended up on a flight that was 5+ hours from the original. I got put on the same waitlist, so noone was special. =P We start talking about baggage, and how we're both lucky that we didn't check any bags on any previous flights, or even for the original flight, because the bags would somewhere in North America right now. Probably taking a vacation, she jokes. And then we'd have to go get them. Someplace nice, like Jamaica. She smiles. We laugh. Curiosity gets the better of me.

"So... what kind of accident were you in?" I'm thinking automobile, 4-wheeler, something...
"I fell down the stairs."
"Oh! Well at least that's better than what I was originally thinking when I saw you."
"What were you originally thinking?"
*pause* "That you... have been abused."

At this point she looks away as we're walking and she seems to lose a little bit of her composure when she says, "Actually, that's exactly what happened. My husband beat me. I tell people I fell down the stairs so they don't think otherwise."

O__O Holy crap!

"And Chicago is your home? Is there anything I can do to help you? I don't know, anything?"

She's going back to this guy! No! No no nononononono!!

"That's sweet of you, but no, there's nothing you can do. Thank you though."

O___O What??? Rrgh!

At this point we were outside of baggage claim. She was going to get a taxi. I was waiting for my mom to get me. But she was going back!!! And she's telling me that there's nothing I can do.

There is nothing like being so powerless to stop something that you know is wrong. And there's nothing like being told that there is nothing you can do when you know there is something you can do, no matter how insignificant it may be. To just let it walk away. But if she wouldn't let me help, I can't force it, especially on a stranger.

God damn it. It's not right.