Adventures from #JPM2020. My Return to Boston Was Not a Straight Line

Even though the weather for JP Morgan’s Biotech Week was fantastic, I have rarely stayed in San Francisco through Thursday. It’s a family thing.

I was all set to leave on the SFO-BOS, one of the many “JP Morgan Express” flights, a term that has been coined to describe the numerous flights that shuttle between SFO and BOS at the beginning and end of Biotech Week. I delayed my original @JetBlue flight to a (gulp) connection through JFK to accommodate a later meeting on Wednesday. No problem. JetBlue is great!

What happened over the next fourteen hours was pretty remarkable, so I wrote it down.

I have #T1D so eating on the go is sometimes a challenge. I took an @Uber to SFO, and throughout the week, #AB5stories hadn’t yet had much effect. I happily cruised through the TSA line, with a departure set for 11:59 PM.

I never cared that JetBlue was at the end of the International Terminal; in fact, I kind of liked it. The terminal had late night options and departures throughout the late evening and into the morning hours. So, okay, welcome to #Terminal1SFO, brand-spanking-new. Honestly, I didn’t really notice when I had landed days earlier.

Terminal 1- Okay, let’s go. It was time to take a look around. Moving walkways, cool, wide open spaces, cool. Two choices for food? One choice? Oh Jeez, there were no choices for food. Scratch that. About halfway down, on the right, there was one vending machine and one drink machine. For a diabetic, this is much like the overwhelming #RangeAnxiety for those who drive battery-operated vehicles. Ok. I decided to deal with it.

My @Medtronic “artificial pancreas” (670G, say no more!) buzzed that I was low on insulin. No problem. I had enough insulin to get me to JFK where I could switch to a new set.

Diet Pepsi (sigh) and @Bulleit had to suffice. Check. I resorted to the last stool at the mini bar next to The Little Chihuahua as #LegendsofSanFran was turning away a few hundred patrons flooding into the terminal. Still. It was not too much of a problem.

Boarding was smooth, fine, although I had a #middleseat instead of my window seat on the earlier non-stop. Movie, check, Jack and Diet Pepsi (yuck), check...Zzzz.

I woke up a few times but was able to rest. After we spiraled down for our landing at JFK, I could finally get a halfway decent breakfast. My insulin was fine, blood sugar, no problem, and I was settling into a bar seat at DEEP BLUE. Huge mistake! I ordered 2 mini pancakes, eggs, bacon, and coffee, so I shot up with a syringe instead of using the last bit of basal insulin I had going for me. No problem…

Ahhh, breakfast arrived. It was inedible. I was afraid to eat it. The pancakes looked like muffin tops a la Seinfeld. I scarfed down the only edible carb on the plate, the rock-hard toast. I quickly visited the gate where my flight would depart around noon and I saw my flight was delayed. That meant 2:30 Boston arrival or later. After grabbing a regular Coke (remember the insulin dose?), I enacted my Plan B.

I decided to drive from JFK back to BOS. @Enterprise had a terrible one-way rate to my local Enterprise branch…ok. A one-way rental, JFK to BOS worked, and was 88 bucks. Totally doable and worth it. Now I needed to intercept my luggage (don’t judge, it was Biotech Week), at the time in limbo somewhere underneath JFK.

I left security and felt my low blood sugar coming on. I saw there were a few places to get food—Dunks and Away Cafe. I visit the JetBlue baggage claim department and they asked the baggage handlers to send my bag to Carousel 6. There it was. Boom—I was on my way to Enterprise, or so I thought.

The next 45 minutes were pretty scary, even after having T1D for 34 years. 

I began to traverse across half-mile walkway from Terminal 5 to the AirTrain system. There were no places to eat, drink, or sit. My blood sugar was descending through the normal range. I felt it coming on. Profuse sweating. Acting intoxicated. A slight tinge of paranoia. I made it to the AirTrain elevator. One of the elevators was out of order. The down escalator was closed. With a shady character or two plus low blood sugar worked out to produce potentially bad consequences for yours truly.

I turned around and headed back toward the only Terminal 5 oasis I saw. Dunkin and the Away Cafe. I was not shaking, but profusely sweating. I went down two levels, as I recall vaguely, and went to the café. I ordered two regular cokes, then went over to Dunkin. Two chocolate donuts. Yeah. That would help. By this point, I could not taste the Coke nor the doughnuts; it was taking all I had just to stand.

I dragged my bag and my bag of donuts over to two tactical policemen at the nearest exterior doorway. I stammered about being a diabetic and having low blood sugar. They continued to talk to each other. One said, “do you want to take a seat?” Of course. No seats were there in the baggage claim. I said I needed help. They didn’t do jack squat. I guess they were completely ignorant of the signs and symptoms and admittedly, terrorism is still a bit more of a concern than some stammering schmo in baggage claim. But still.

Luckily the two donuts and coke brought me back to the point of being able to taste and smell again. I kept the second coke so that I could be sure that the insulin dose had been completely counteracted.

This was the closest I had ever been to “falling out” or passing out due to low blood glucose, and the unprecedented loss of taste and smell told me this was probably the lowest my blood sugar had ever been. A personal low.

After several minutes of recovery, I headed back toward the long slog to the AirTrain. Instead of the train, I decided to take a taxi, which I knew would be very upsetting for the person taking me a mile or so from the terminal. I paid the driver, and I tipped him quite a lot to make up for his-shorter-than-usual fare from the airport. At first he was complaining about how long he waited in the queue, but when I jumped out at Enterprise, he thanked me profusely. I figured I hit the mark with the tip.

I waited in line at Enterprise. I found out my reservation did not go through. I worked something out and they found the reservation number. What happened next was a bit of luck. I walked to the garage with the customer service representative. I noticed a line of Maseratis and other large luxury-type vehicles. I jokingly said, “Do you need me to ferry a Maz to Boston?!?”

No reply, just nervous laughter.

I joined my customer service rep and found my rental Hyundai Elantra. I sighed. I began the check in. I took pictures of the vehicle just in case. Then there was a problem. For some reason, she could not find the key. The manager approached.

“I need to move a car back to Boston, do you want to drive this Maz?” He didn’t need to ask me twice. I threw my bag in the back, plugged in my phone, and headed for home. I checked my JFK to BOS flight, and sure enough, the connection had been delayed again.

As it turned out, I had an inconsequential drive home, and I arrived home an hour before my flight landed in Boston, and I was able to arrive in luxury thanks to some nice folks at the Enterprise.

I survived #JPM2020 Biotech Week. What a trip. 

#Hypoglycemia @JetBlue @Maserati @Enterprise @JDRF @VertexPharma @SemmaTx