by Josh Valcarcel
North Carolina, USA
I was raised in Spain with a Spanish father and an American mother, so I have double citizenship and two passports. I’ve flown many international flights. When I was 21 and in college in the USA, I planned to go home to Spain for Christmas. My fiancee lived there, and I hadn’t seen her for five months.
I flew to Newark, New Jersey, and took the connecting bus to JFK. My flight to Milan and then Barcelona was on Alitalia. I was well prepared: tickets in place, passports in hand, and a good book to read. I got to JFK six hours ahead of my departure and joined the Alitalia line.
Catastrophe struck when I reached the counter and realized I had no tickets. I was dumbfounded. I’d shown them to the connection bus driver. I had my Spanish passport but not my American one. I realized I’d left them on the bus seat.
A deep, sick feeling came over me. Without those tickets, I was stuck. I had five hours. I struggled back to the buses with two large suitcases and a large carry-on.
I hailed buses, but few stopped. The first three said to go to Newark to the Lost and Found; they couldn’t help without the bus number. The fourth person used the radio to no avail. The fifth said, “Step back onto the curb, and I’ll be right with you.” He then closed his doors and sped off.
Returning to Alitalia, I asked for help, such as a reprint, since I still had my Spanish passport. The lady said she saw my ticket on the screen, but a reprint wasn’t possible. Another ticket at $485 would be necessary. I had $27.75.
As the hours ticked by, I became more aggressive. I followed the Alitalia supervisor, pleading for a reprint exception. He said to buy another ticket. Finally, standing by the service desk, I heard a representative say: “No more people for the Milan flight! The door is closed!”
I realized I wasn’t going home, covered my face with my hands, and started to cry in despair. Then a lady asked, “Young man, why are you crying?” I sobbed through the main facts, and immediately she said, “You’re not staying here, you are going home.” She marched me back to customer service and gave the lady my passport, saying, “Print his ticket right now,” and got on the radio to say, “Hold Milan, I’ve got one more!”
It seemed a dream, but there was my ticket!
At the screening area, 120 people waited in line to be searched. Then an officer shouted, “Who’s the guy going to Milan?” I raised my hand, and people stepped aside. Shortly thereafter when I was safely in my seat, I suddenly realized I hadn’t thanked this person who, in a moment, changed my tearful face… to a tearful face with a smile.
So to the Alitalia employee, whoever you are: Thank you! I am now happily married and have a little girl.
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