The year is 2024. The 10th of June. Destination known: Phoenix, Arizona. It’s 5:50 p.m. and never have I experienced such uncertainty while innocently sitting in my seat onboard an American Airlines airplane. Two full hours after taking my uncomfortable assigned seat, in Des Moines, Iowa, the steel bird has yet to leave its nest. Well, I guess the CRJ700 Canadair Regional Jet did sort of taxi the runway, for a hot minute, before ultimately coming to an abrupt halt. That’s the extent of excitement, experienced by the passengers and crew onboard this smaller plane, in the last 150 minutes.

The reported problem is the left engine just won’t start for takeoff. All we need, sayeth the pilot, is for a maintenance person to come on out and manually attempt to start the engine. That doesn’t sound too difficult. Safe? I don’t know. But surely not too difficult. Oh, what do we have here? Could it be? Why yes, it’s our possible savior with a wrench in hand. Only a wrench? At least it’s a big one! Finally, we won’t be fidgetily sitting here all for naught.

But wait. What good really is a maintenance man with a big wrench? Come to find out, not much if you don’t have rampers (whatever that is) to help execute starting an engine by hand. It appears to be a team effort. You need a guy with a big wrench AND some rampers. We do have three rampers, but it was just announced we need four, and it’s not looking very promising because any remaining rampers on site have been prioritized to getting other flyers to their Charlotte, North Carolina destination. Good for them! (Stupid Charlotte.)

The good news is the man in charge of lavatory waste has had ample time to drain the unflushable toilet stationed directly behind us. Yes, the toilet is not working properly, and yes, my lovely wife and I are seated in the very last row of the 78 passenger plane. We’re just two of four confused Caucasians waiting patiently in the back of the plane. (Thank you Rosa Parks – equality – as it should be!) Not everyone is being as patient as the white foursome in seats 75-78. Snide comments, empty (hopefully) threats, and boisterous chatter are wafting in the humid airplane air. I may detect a hint of upheaval coming very soon.

Hallelujah! The fourth ramper is here! A tarmac revolt may have just been averted. The captain is making an announcement, as he has been doing off and on (mostly off) for the past nearly three-hour ordeal, to keep us all apprised of the situation at hand. He “comforts” the ancy, possible future mob by telling us they are now ready to try to manually start the engine, and either it will work and we’ll be on our way to Arizona, or it won’t work and he’s not sure where we’d go from there. Comforting, like I said.

Some time has passed, and then some more time, before the pilot of the steel bird informs us that the manual engine start did not work. And a crew from – did he just say Michigan? – I know he said some state that started with an M – will soon be sent to hopefully get the plane up to snuff. Thankfully (maybe legally?) the captain continues on with saying he can’t keep us onboard for several more hours, so we have permission to deboard the plane. Permission? I think at this point we are all getting off this plane – with or without permission!

It’s still 2024. The 10th of June. But it’s now well after 9 p.m. and the missus and I are right back where we started – at the American Airlines ticket counter. Destination still known: Phoenix, Arizona. But there are no more flights this evening. Maybe tomorrow.