Flying

Just got back from the South.

August seems to be the month of travel this year.

Trip home was interesting. Austin. 7 a.m. Myself (and fellow passengers) sat there for thirty more minutes after the plane was due to take off.

Arrived in St. Louis, walked off the plane to hear a statement over the terminal loud speaker: "Passenger Mary Gillen...please report to Gate C-1 for your flight to DC. The door is now closing." I was at Gate C-17. Shite, as the Irish would say! I turned to the American Airlines employee at the desk and inquired, "Could you please call down to Gate C-17 and tell them to hold the plane...that I am on my way?" She looked at me like I had seven heads.

Idiot.

I ran. Who am I kidding? I lumbered with all my might.

Made it there just as the lady airline personnel person was closing the door. "WAIT," I cried. She did, then acted like I was some kind of creature from another planet. Hold on. I paid good money for this ticket. What happened to customer service? She frowned, put my ticket through the computer, then let me through the Alice in Wonderland door to the plane where some fellow had already absconded with my seat. I asked him to move. He was reluctant, but did.

THEORY: Methinks the major airlines are double-booking their flights, leaving late on purpose from some destinations, letting stand-by passengers on, then telling their already-paid customers, "Oh I am sorry, you are late. We gave your seat away" for double the profit. And it is the customer's fault. I say "dirty dawgs," but that would be an insult to Margaret and Walter.

I am home. And am glad that there is a Labbie fast asleep under my desk as I write this to you, her sweet gub resting on the top of my right foot, so I won't get away.

It doesn't pay to transfer on an airline these days. Time = greed. And, c'mon, don't blame it on the cost of fuel.

But, while flying,  one good thing did appear. Two small boys, across the aisle on the plane. They were separated by a simple row of seats, and met through the small crack between chair and wall. They introduced themselves:

John: "What's your name?"

Toby: "My name is Toby."

John: "My name is John. Have you ever seen a tick?"

Toby: "Yes. Have you ever eaten Cheetos?"

John: "Yeah!"

And as we descended, getting closer and closer to the ground, Toby said,

"Look at the cars down there. Maybe the plane could land on a car's roof and we could all drive on down the highway."

Yeah.

Comments

[Christina Gillen]

...did your bags make it? On the good side, it looks like your New Zealand mountain training helped! Remember when flying was a time to get dressed up and have real food on real plates with real linen sitting next to Cary Grant?