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

Act three:
When I saw the video monitor, my connecting flight was due to leave in 10 minutes. From a different concourse. At the far end. And I was at the far end of the concourse where my flight from Indianapolis de-boarded.
So, I decided what the heck.
I ran down concourse C, ran down the escalator to the connecting tunnel, avoided the moving sidewalk because there were too many people on it, and only paused briefly on the up escalator, before sprinting down concourse B to my gate.
The scene at the end of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” in which he was running through people’s back yards to beat his parents home, was running through my head. So was the music.
When I got there, the flight hadn’t left, but all the passengers were crowded around the gate ready to get on.
The woman working the gate was handing out boarding passes to people who were flying standby. Naturally, I assumed they were probably giving my seat away, since this was United and I was two hours late, anyway.
I went to the counter. This attendant was pretty efficient. She took care of the people in front of me effectively and quickly. She told me I still had my seat. Relieved, I went to get a drink of water somewhat happy I ran all the way there.
A few minuted later, we boarded that flight.
Guess what happened next.
We taxied out toward the runway. I saw our plane pull away from the runway procession and park in a holding area. Then the captain announced we’d have a brief delay while they recalculated our route because of bad weather.
That took another hour. During which we sat on the plane again. But, it was only an hour, and we took off, a two-hour flight from home.
So, to total this up: I spent five and a half hours on two planes for what should have been two and half hours.
The plane arrived in Norfolk and I went to baggage claim to get my luggage.
It dawned on me that my bag probably didn’t make the transfer in Chicago. I had hurried to get to the next flight, but the United baggage handlers probably didn’t. Heck, the way the clerk in Indianapolis reacted to me, I figured it was in Abu Dhabi by now.
I watched every bag come off the line, and none of them were mine.
So, I walked to the baggage office, which was empty for the night. Pretty soon, one employee came along and started rounding up the unclaimed suitcases. He said he was the person who would take care of tracing my bag.
This guy was the best customer service person I dealt with the whole day. He was patient with all the cranky people who didn’t get their suitcases.
One lady was asking questions as if she had never lost a bag before.
“This says local address. I live two-and-a-half hours from here. Is it OK to put my home address?” and “What time tomorrow will they deliver it?"
He handled all the questions like a pro, and helped everyone, including me, fill out their claim forms.
My bag was in Chicago, he said.
So, I went home.
The next day, late in the afternoon, after hearing nothing about my suitcase, I checked the United Web site, which told me they had no idea where the bag was. Did it even go to Chicago? Abu Dhabi it was, I guess.
So, I called customer service, and the person the phone assured me it was indeed still in Chicago. Why it hadn’t been put on the next flight to Norfolk, I have no idea.
United finally brought it to my house Sunday afternoon about 4:30 p.m.
(Interlude: When I lived in Ohio, sometimes the airlines lost my bags. However the Toledo airport had one guy, in the days before GPS, who always brought your bag back the next day. I know this because it happened three times over the course of several years, and it was always the same smiley, happy guy who brought my suitcase back. He always acted as if he really hurried to get it to me, too.
In fairness, I didn’t meet the delivery guy this time. He called just as we were leaving to go swimming for the afternoon and dropped off the bag.
So anyway, next time I fly United, they can make it up to me by getting me to my destination three hours early (even if that means, on a short flight, arriving before I left), not losing my bag and giving me candy bars.
Until then, I am going to avoid flying United and dread it if I have to.