PicoBlog

It’s 5:48 p.m. on Wednesday and I can hear the faint sound of Enrique Iglesias’ “Bailando” over the sound system at a Mexican restaurant on the second level of Terminal B at the Denver airport.

Minutes ago, I purchased a mediterranean bowl on the main concourse. But I couldn’t find any seats near an outlet and I needed to charge my phone for the fourth time in as many hours.

I’m on my second plastic water bottle, third airport food purchase and fourth hour of a seven-hour layover as I start to hum the tune of the song in between bites of a $21 meal.

Morale is low, but we beat on, boats against the current.

Honestly, things could be much worse.

By this point in my journey from Bentonville, Arkansas to San Francisco, California, I have come to accept that this monstrous layover was the result of a choice I made.

I’m flying on miles because I took some sort of “PointSaver” deal a few months ago from United. I did so believing I’d be able to fly Standby on one of the three DEN-SFO United directs scheduled to leave before my 8:47 p.m. departure.

To me, flying standby is the equivalent of a baseball team having a “bullpen game.” You probably want to avoid it at all costs, but sometimes, it gives you a decent chance of pulling out a victory.

Twenty-four hours before I checked in, the United app offered me the chance to reroute my flight through Houston to land at SFO an hour earlier.

I scouted the three DEN-SFO flights and saw dozens of empty seats, so I declined.

I was pushing my chips all-in at the Denver standby table.

After sleeping through the duration of my 90-minute XNA-DEN flight, I woke up as we hit the tarmac and immediately scanned the app.

Could I make the 3:30 p.m.?

CANCELLED.

Not the notification I needed. My original itinerary was still intact, but I knew the cancellation would have a ripple effect.

Sure enough, those empty seats on the 5:30 and 7:30 flights were now full. All the passengers on the 3:30 had been pushed, and my plan crumbled.

But standby warriors like myself don’t give up so easily.

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After five years spent criss-crossing the country on planes while I covered the Giants, I think of myself as an airport and airline guru. It’s a strange —and to some a sickening— hobby, but I enjoy the thrill of building and modifying travel itineraries on the fly.

But this is one of those days that haunts you.

It’s the type of bullpen game where you quickly realize the other team has its ace on the hill and that second lefty you’re counting on has a 5.38 ERA.

I figured I’d get to Denver, a United hub, and then play matchups with Standby lists and seat maps for the 3:30, 5:30 and 7:30 flights to get me home.

The 3:30 p.m. cancelation was the equivalent of my long man giving up a grand slam to a No. 8 hitter.

You’re not exactly paving the way to Mariano Rivera when that happens.

By the time I sat down for dinner at Terminal B, I had tried every option at my disposal.

I traversed from Gate B71 to Gate A14, a 1.08 mile trek (thanks, Apple Watch) that included a pit stop to see if a gate agent could help me and a ride on the jam-packed airport tram to switch terminals.

I was 17th on the 5:30 p.m. standby list, but as I’ve discovered in the past, miracles can happen.

In September, 2021, the Giants used a bullpen game against Walker Buehler and the Dodgers. Steven Duggar hit an early two-run triple and the Giants won the game.

Alas, the 5:30 p.m. flight had room for three extra passengers.

So it was a tram ride back to Terminal B, where the 7:30 p.m. flight was already delayed until 9:30 due to a tornado warning.

This meant my 8:47 p.m. flight (delayed to 9:05 p.m.) was now the best option.

Of course, I had punched in options for OAK and SJC and checked Southwest (the farm system of the air travel world) to see if they had any last-minute “deals” worth stomaching, but I was stuck.

My “bullpen game” plan backfired, and there I was, humming Enrique Iglesias and eating a mediterranean bowl that was certain to upset my stomach.

With three-plus hours left in my layover, I accepted my L. I was essentially in “let the position player pitch” territory, knowing I’d be back to my day job on short rest on Thursday.

They say fortune favors the bold, but I think fortune also probably favors the people who are willing to shell out to avoid seven-hour layovers.

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