Airport Drama: A Mirror of Chaos

Airports often mirror a country's overall atmosphere and state of mind. On June 15, 2025, I was flying with United Airlines from Querétaro, Mexico, to New Orleans for knee replacement surgery. Our flight ran into a problem when the plane ran out of fuel while circling over Houston, forcing us to land in San Antonio amid a storm. Lightning flashed, reflecting in the growing pools of water around the aircraft. Due to safety regulations, the ground crew couldn't refuel during the lightning storm, leaving us stranded.

Our captain, demonstrating exceptional professionalism and kindness, kept us informed. However, we couldn't disembark since San Antonio had no customs arrangements for international passengers. With limited snacks and a growing scarcity of water, the situation became more uncomfortable when an electrical outage affected the plane's equipment, including the boarding ramp, in-flight entertainment, and cell service. We faced a dilemma: regulations prohibited us from staying on the tarmac for more than four hours, but without fuel, we couldn't leave. The captain attempted to order food for us, but the customs issues prevented it.

Just 15 minutes before the four-hour deadline, the fuel crew, motivated by compassion, ventured out to refuel the plane and deliver bottled water. This courageous act allowed us to take off and eventually land in Houston, albeit five hours late.

Following my knee surgery and two weeks of recovery and therapy, I prepared to fly back to Mexico. The United Airlines flight from New Orleans was bearable despite malfunctioning air conditioning. Unfortunately, as someone with a heat allergy, this led to nausea, which was compounded by my post-surgery medications. I became unwell on the flight. Upon landing, seeking medical assistance only led to further complications.

A manager named Mariah contacted corporate and questioned me extensively. She focused on my medications, especially prescription opioids, rather than providing comfort. Mariah informed me that I couldn’t fly without a doctor's note confirming my fitness. Even after I acquired and sent the note, "corporate" insisted on another letter from a Houston hospital. Mariah left abruptly, instructing me to stay put with no food or water. Hours passed, and I began feeling like a lost child—a customer disregarded by a rigid corporate machine. Just as my flight was boarding, my wheelchair assistant, sensing the delay, took me to the gate.

Despite reaching my seat, I was approached by a woman in a gown and hijab named Kareema, who insisted I disembark to discuss the situation further. She seated me at a vacant restaurant table and spoke words that resonated deeply.

“Christina,” she said, “God is everywhere. There’s a reason for everything, and this too has meaning.” Her eyes conveyed more than words could, stirring something profound within me and redirecting me toward inner peace.

Amidst bustling travelers and joyful families, Kareema's words reminded me of the interconnectedness of all people. Each face was part of one large family. I began to shed the emotions of isolation and despair. "Your family is here; family is everywhere," she said, placing a paper napkin in my hand as a symbol of comfort. Despite her departure, her promise to return with water lingered as a beacon of hope.

Kareema did not return.

This feeling of abandonment echoed another time in my life. As a five-year-old child, I was lost in Radio City Music Hall and could not find my mother. Back then, I at least had adults bending down to ask if I was lost. Without my mother, I felt like a terrified shell of myself, unable to feel anything except the horror of having no one to care for me. In this moment, Kareema’s words had set a shaky anchor in me—a prayer that I might find some help, a reminder that I have no control and a Higher Power is. I struggled with the wish that this Higher Power be God and not the corporate entity of the airline.

I realized I would need to ask my wheelchair assistant to take me out to get an Uber to a hospital for a new document proving I was well enough to fly. I wondered how I would manage on my own with one long hiking stick, my backpack, and my rolling carry-on. Since I could barely hobble with my newly traumatized knee, I would have to carry one piece to a doorway and go back to get the other.

My Uber driver, Sauli, took me to the closest emergency room. They were too busy to see me. He kindly allowed me to continue without booking another Uber, and we went to two urgent care centers. Both were closed. It was 8:30 PM.

By now I was so hungry that the pangs had passed, and I was parched. I chose an expensive hotel near the airport that had a restaurant. I looked up another urgent care center that opened at 9 AM and was 13 minutes away.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I requested water and was informed that I had bottled water in my room. I drank both medium-sized bottles (priced at $5.00 each) and filled my water bottle from the sink. Exhausted, I fell into bed still dressed and slept soundly for about six hours.

At 7 AM, room service became available, and I ordered a hearty breakfast of fruit and eggs, knowing I might face another day without food.

I arrived at the urgent care center at 9:05 AM, where they assured me they would see me as soon as possible. Twenty minutes later, I was undergoing vision tests administered by a kind doctor from India. She informed me that they were conducting a complete examination to meet United Airlines' requirements.

I recounted the events leading up to my situation, and the doctor brought up a recent airline crash in India that had only one survivor. “Did you know,” she said, “that there was a woman stuck in traffic who desperately wanted to catch that flight? The doors closed just ten minutes before she reached the gate, and she missed it. God did not want you on that plane, Christina.”

She requested a urine sample to ensure I wasn't overdosing on opioids, addressing the suspicions that seemed to plague United Airlines' corporate entity. After a short wait, I provided the sample, and soon after, an energetic and fit male doctor examined me. He tested my physical strength and confidently declared me fit to fly, affirming that I was in good shape.

They printed the necessary document, signed it, and provided an extra page of my test results to satisfy the airline. With my paperwork in hand, I made my way to Terminal E for check-in, arriving one hour and twenty minutes before my flight's departure.

My Uber driver, a kind man who was deaf and physically handicapped, assured me he would help with my luggage and get me a wheelchair. When I finally reached the check-in agent, I handed her my passport and the necessary documents. Without even glancing up, she said, “You can’t fly.”

“Ma’am,” I replied, “I have three documents here stating that I can fly.” She continued to stare at her monitor and said, “It says here you can’t fly. Where is your boarding pass?”

I struggled to maintain my patience. “That’s why I’m here; you need to give me my boarding pass.”

“Your flight already left,” she said grimly, still fixated on the screen.

“No, I’m on the flight leaving for Querétaro very soon,” I insisted.

Silence stretched between us for what felt like an eternity.

“Your flight left,” she repeated.

I felt a surge of anxiety, frustration, and anger. “Today is July 16th, and I am reserved on the flight!”

She shook her head, still looking at the screen before scanning my boarding passes from the previous day, July 15.

“Today is July 15, and your flight departed,” she stated flatly.

I nearly screamed, “TODAY is July 16th!”

“Oh,” she said, almost dismissively, “but now the flight is leaving in an hour, and it’s too late to check you in.”

Throughout our exchange, she never once looked me in the eye.

Fuming, I was met by a new wheelchair assistant who informed me that the gate was located far down in another terminal and we likely wouldn’t make it. I countered, “There were numerous delays yesterday; maybe this flight will be delayed too.”

We hurried to the gate, but upon arrival, we learned that boarding had closed just ten minutes prior. A ticket in my name was sitting at the agent's desk, untouched.

Then Mariah appeared. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, taking my custom-carved walking stick from me. “You are easy to spot. You missed your flight,” she commented as she practiced swinging my stick.

I sighed, exhausted. “Mariah, the agent at check-in did not know what day it was and took 15 minutes to honor the three documents I have proving I am fit to fly. That is why I missed my flight.”

“I have a friend like you,” I continued. “I know you. You do your job, you want to care, but the corporate entity stops you from caring. My friend, a medical doctor, finally decided to care about people more than corporate commands. It was tough, but she was called to heroism and compassion. I hope you are called to do that.”

Mariah looked at me, her eyes finally meeting mine.

“You have seven hours to wait until your next flight. The United Lounge has free food and drinks; would you like to go there?”

“Yes indeed,” I nodded. “Goodbye now, Mariah.”

The wheelchair assistant, whose name I have now unfortunately forgotten, wheeled me to the lounge. On the way, I saw Andrew, a wheelchair angel from the day before. “Hey Christina,” he waved, “good to see you! What are you still doing in Houston?”

I greeted him and replied that it was a long story. Andrew was named after the disciple. He and I are both ministers. Andrew said he followed the disciple’s work of interpreting parables. I said my work was ministering and holding Light, within and without, no matter the situation or circumstance.

And so, what did I learn? How did this enhance my ministry and my personal growth? I learned the value of the ancient parable of the Good Samaritan. I realized that sometimes we humans may confuse corporate command with God. I confirmed my belief that human eye contact, human touch, and understanding are three keys to the door of the human heart.

To Andrew, to the Uber drivers, and to the medics at the clinic, here is the parable for you, with many thanks for following your compassionate hearts.

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“And who is my neighbor?”

Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

Amen,

Christina