How I Spent My Summer Vacation by John Colbert

PART I

How I Spent My Summer Vacation by John Colbert

August 1, 2012: Hurry Up and Wait

            Near the Charlotte International airport, the audible “sproing” coming from the cheap hotel mattress reminded me that I was a cheap hotel guest. Once again, I misjudged the depth of discomfort that is inflicted by overnight stays calculated to save money but only add to the misery of travel. “Next time, I’ll spring for something nice”, I pleaded to my long suffering bride. I get the usual look of disbelief I’ve come so richly to deserve.

The previous night, I had gone to check my emails on the courtesy computer for word from potential publishers. Above the late 1990’s Dell desk top was a sign that said “30 minute time limit for guests”. After 28 minutes, the internet finally pops up. Thank goodness for the remaining two minutes. It gave me just enough time to log out.  I suspect that inside the casing of the Dell was an old Commodore 64 that loaded using a cassette tape. The only thing slower than this electronic sloth is three innings of baseball. Needless to say, I got to bed late.

The wake-up call comes at 4:00 A.M. and we quickly change, double check to be sure we left nothing behind in our minimalist man-made cave and rush out to our car. Our boarding time is 5:45 A.M. and the flight leaves at 6:20 A.M. I have timed this to make our first day in New York City a full day. We arrive at the airport, check in, go through security (full body scan, boy was I disappointed and disappointing all at the same time) and arrive at our gate.

At this point, you must be asking yourself, “Did he write New York City?” Well, your eyes are not deceiving you. Never having been to New York, I finally accepted a long standing and often repeated invitation from my brother and his lovely wife to come to NY, stay with them and see the sights. Well, it is not that I don’t want to see them. In fact, that was my primary motivation. But, I figured, why would a municipality with over 8 million people need me knocking into things. Besides, TV keeps telling me their picante sauce is just not as good as the condiment produced in the American Southwest and who can abide second rate picante sauce?

We take our seats and at 5:22 A.M. and wait. A few minutes later, someone declares, “The flight’s been canceled; mechanical trouble.” I assured my wife that everything was fine. After all, two female airline attendants were standing at the station in front of our gate with a sign lighted up with our flight number, destination, departure time and proudly announcing that it was on time. “If our flight is postponed or canceled, they’ll post it right up there. We’ll be boarding in about 20 minutes”, I confidently stated to my drowsy spouse.

Quite some time later, I rose to my feet and approached the service desk still manned by the same two women (shouldn’t that be ‘womanned’?). Above them, the still reassuring announcement that our flight was “on time” and “6:20” blazed in bold red illumination. My watch said 6:40. “Hmmm”, reverberated in my nasal cavity. I inquired, “Do you have another flight we could be booked on?”

“We’re currently serving those with connecting flights”, was her nasal response.

When did Lily Tomlin start working for the airlines I thought?

“Do you have a connecting flight in Charlotte”, she queried?

“No, it’s our destination”.

“After serving those with connecting flights, I’ll let you know what will be available”, she assured me. Still confident in the airlines ability to act efficiently, I returned to the hot little number that foolishly agreed to marry me during the bicentennial. Clearly, by now, you know that it has been quite some time since I’ve flown.

Then, a faint disembodied voice sounding fearful that it might actually be intelligible to the stranded passengers announced that only twenty-two remained unaided from the now lost flight. The four couples that had been behind me were all that remained of those needing to make a connecting flight. The attendant made no motion for me to come and see her; no communication that I could press my inquiry. By now, I’m getting suspicious that my confidence was misplaced. Perhaps they are not quite as in control of the situation as they would like me to believe.

I rise to see the same attendant but another marooned passenger manages to reach her first. Not having as yet made any requests to be rebooked, he slips in front of me just as I approached the attendant. It was one of those near social faux pas where you’re not sure if protocol has been breached so you just let it go to the most aggressive. “Do you have another flight you can put my family on?” he reasonably asked.

“There is a 7:45 flight for New York. Do you need to make a connecting flight?”

“No, New York is my destination.”

“How many seats do you need?”

“Five.”

“Yes sir, you are now booked for the 7:45 flight to New York at Gate A10. You just have time to get there.”

“Thank you”, he politely acknowledged. Well, of course he was polite. He got his seats.

As he drifted to his wife and what appeared to be three teenage boys, the attendant turned to me, smiled and asked, “May I help you?”

“Yes, do you have two seats on that 7:45 flight for me and my wife?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry but I just booked the last five seats.”

“But, I was just up here and asked you if there were any seats available on another flight!?”

“I’m sorry, that flight is booked.”

Not wanting to have to go through anger management training, I took my dumbfounded expression to the seat next to my wife.

“Goose Frahbah”, was all I could mutter.

NEXT WEEK; PART II