I was held prisoner by United Airlines (Or: Why I hate flying and really hate flying United.) A farce in three acts

Act two:
(While waiting, I ordered a small dish of ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery. The girl accidentally made me enough for a medium, and gave it all to me for the price of a small. I didn’t really want all the ice cream, nor did I eat all of it, but that’s beside the point. Something good did happen on that trip, but it had nothing to do with United.)
When the time for my flight came, there was a plane waiting, but no activity at the gate. About two minutes later, a guy came from one of the nearby gates.
With no microphone, he shouted out that the the plane would begin boarding. He called out zone numbers, and we began lining up to board in a scene out of air travel in the 1960s.
Without a bar code scanner, he began letting people on the plane simply by looking at the boarding passes.
At this point, I noted the oddity, but just happy to be boarding. But, this was United, after all.
As soon as I sat in my seat, the pilot announced because of a backup in Chicago, we were going to experience a brief delay. He would hear back from the folks in Chicago in about an hour and then he’d update us on how long it would be.
So, we weren’t even flying in an hour. They were going to tell us in an hour how long it would be before we were flying.
We all sat in the plane, unable to exit and maybe go sit in the airport where we could at least go to the bathroom if we wanted.
One man asked the steward why we boarded the plane. The steward answered the pilot just found out after we had almost all gotten aboard.
Whether or not he had been coached to give that answer, I have no idea.
So, we sat on the tarmac for an hour.
(Interlude: Let’s note I hate flying, anyway. I hate being cramped up on a plane full of other humans. I find few things more uncomfortable.
If I have an aisle seat, everyone walking down the aisles bumps me incessantly. If I have a window seat, I have to wedge myself into a corner to get comfortable. If I have a middle seat, I always wind up between people who resemble Shaquille O’Neil and, say, a flatulent John Candy.)
At the end of the hour, the pilot said he had just heard from Chicago, and it would be another delay of about an hour before they’d tell us when the plane could take off.
I was going to miss my connection, unless departures has been delayed as much as arrivals. That would seem to make sense, but this was, after all, United.
They handed out water during the delay, but a better public relations move occurred to me while I was sitting there:
Pilot: “Unfortunately, we have ben delayed another hour, but to make up for it, we are handing out, free of charge, candy bars for everyone!”
I think that would have gone a long way toward creating some good will toward United.
But, instead, we got a little plastic glass full of water.
Thankfully, an hour later the plane was cleared to leave and we did.
I got to Chicago, and walked off the plane at a normal pace, assuming either my flight had already gone, or it had been delayed a similar amount of time and I’d have a hour to get to the next gate.
Of course, the answer was neither.
(To be concluded tomorrow.)