We planned to spend the day working and running errands while Aimee's parents were in the air. But we got a handful of text messages from Aimee's mom relaying that their Dallas to Tokyo flight was delayed. This meant that they would miss their connecting flight to Viet Nam, and it would be a full 24 hours before they could fly to Hanoi. They were in good spirits about it, but we were disappointed to have them lose a day in Hoi An. We only had a few more days left in our adopted home town, and we wanted to give Aimee's parents some adjustment time like we had in Ho Chi Minh City.
We rescheduled their hotel room (easy) and their flight to Da Nang (somewhat easy, but at a price), and kept ourselves busy with the usual assortment of work, coconut coffees, and banh mi sandwiches.
We didn't hear from them again for the rest of the day, but we reassured ourselves that it was because they were still flying over the Pacific. Early the next morning, we woke to messages that they had arrived in Tokyo, and the airline had found them a faster route to Hanoi. They would only be in Tokyo for 8 or 9 hours, and probably wouldn't need to spend the night in Hanoi.
I didn't bother cancelling the Hanoi hotel room, since it was too late to get a refund, and I wanted them to have an absolute backup plan. And I didn't change their Hanoi to Da Nang flight, since they had a good excuse, and could probably avoid another change fee if they did it in person. So we had to just reassure ourselves that Tom and Helen are capable, experienced travelers (and most airport employees around the world speak English).
But then things really started getting interesting. Six hours later, we got a text from Helen that they had cleared Vietnamese immigration. They were standing in the customs line, and she would report back to us after they completed the process and talked to the airline.
And then radio silence. We didn't hear anything from them for several hours, and they weren't replying to our messages. As the day progressed, Aimee and I were became increasingly convinced that her parents were either in Vietnamese prison or rerouted to Malaysia. Maybe both. The best case scenario in my mind was that the airline had found them an earlier flight to Da Nang, and the gate agent rushed them to get on it before Helen could text us. But after another two hours of silence, a surprise Da Nang arrival was looking less and less likely.
Around 8:30 pm--as I was considering everything from calling the embassy to flying to Hanoi myself--we heard from Helen! Their wifi connection had been spotty, but they were getting on a plane in five minutes and would be in Da Nang by 10 pm. They still might make it to Hoi An that day!
I gladly braved that evening's rain to arrange a car (and pick up a couple of much-needed beers for Aimee and I). Mimi was of course long since asleep, so Aimee stayed with her, and I met the driver to go Da Nang. We pulled into the airport a few minutes before Tom and Helen were scheduled to arrive, and I walked into the terminal. The driver agreed to wait for me in the taxi lot.
A few minutes passed by, and their plane was nowhere to be seen. It was 10 pm in a small airport, so I definitely hadn't missed them. So I connected to the airport wifi to see if there were any posted delays on the Vietnam Airlines website, but that was futile. The state-owned airlines of communist nations always run on time. It is you who are too early.
But as my phone connected to the internet, I received about a dozen messages from Aimee and Helen. The plane captain had aborted the takeoff from Hanoi, and their plane came to a screeching halt on the runway. They had to change flights yet again, and wouldn't arrive in Da Nang until close to midnight. It's a good thing I really like my inlaws.
It would have taken just as much time for me to return home and come back, so I negotiated a prolonged waiting fee with my driver. Although, "negotiated" is probably being a little generous. More like "accepted". It was the middle of the night, still raining, and most of the taxi drivers had gone home for the day. My options were limited, to say the least. It's a good thing I really like my inlaws.
I watched the last of the scheduled passengers head home, and saw the airport staff dwindle to a skeleton crew. I kept myself awake by swatting at mosquitos, and I was incredibly happy that I still had a tiny bag of peanuts in my raincoat. It's a good thing I really like my inlaws.
Around midnight, I thought I heard a plane flying overhead, but I wasn't completely certain that I hadn't dozed off and dreamt it. But as I saw a bit of activity in the baggage claim area, I was increasingly confident that it was real. I texted Aimee to say that her parents may have landed, and she replied with a baker's dozen of the crossed fingers emoji.
I looked through the crowd. Maybe...Maybe...Success! I'm generally happy to see Tom and Helen, but never more so than I was that night. After an unscheduled day in Tokyo and an aborted takeoff, they had arrived!
When we got to our house, Aimee was waiting for them with hugs and the bad news that they would still have to wait another eight hours before their granddaughter was awake. But it's better than Malaysian prison.
