I’m flying as I write this. My employer is sending me to a conference for four days. If something is less than ten hours away, I’ll drive every time. The conference is at least a seventeen hour drive, so I’m flying… and not loving it.
Ms. Boss played the part of chauffeur this morning driving me an hour to the airport after making sure I had everything I needed. She embraced me tightly and sent me on my way. She travels much more than I do. The Bosslets say I do nothing but mope when she’s away. They’re not wrong. Here’s hoping her moping is minimal. I look forward to the hug on the other end of the trip.
Ms. Boss insisted I borrow her backpack for the trip saying it made carrying a laptop and tablet much easier. I, of course, agreed with the more seasoned traveler and did so, but began having doubts as I was navigating through the airport. It began to be quite a challenge keeping it on my shoulder and I kept having to readjust. I then came to a realization – I was carrying it like I did in college when two straps was dumb and one strap was cool. The second strap is there for a reason. As you might expect, putting on the second strap solved my problem. One strap is dumb, two straps are cool.
I remember the first time I ever flew. How long ago? Let’s just say i was wearing a leisure suit at the time and leave it at that. Those were the days when traveling was an event, something you got dressed up for. The majority of the passenger manifest today lies far from that standard. Some made sartorial choices today that I would not make… on a dare… ever.
I will say that one passenger on this flight is dressed for ‘old time travel’. Wearing a pink linen sport coat and white pants, I first noticed the older gentleman standing at the bar of a bourbon place. I instantly passed judgement that 5:15 on a Sunday morning was way too early for anyone to drink bourbon even if you needed a bit of Dutch courage to get on the plane. I then saw the bartender go over to the coffee pot and pour a cup. By going to the bar to get coffee, he managed to skip the huge lines at McDonald’s and Starbucks and get something that I did not end up getting this morning. I saw him talking with the gate attendant just before boarding. While I didn’t see him when I boarded, I suspect he landed himself in first class. Maybe instead of passing judgement, I should take a few notes.
Take a 6’3”, 310 pound man who hasn’t flown in a bit, squeeze him into the middle seat between a woman who does not open the window to allow spatial reference causing disorientation and a man who seems to be praying every time the littlest thing happens and unsettling me just the teeniest bit. Turn off the air conditioner while waiting at the gate to make it nice and stuffy to get him good and uncomfortable. Then hurtle him down the runway. Will he survive the ordeal? Stay tuned!
I have just popped my ears for the umpteenth time this trip.
The beverage cart is making its way down the aisle. Today’s choice will be ginger ale. Why? My mom had me drink it during my leisure suit days. In a closely-related circumstance, a barf bag was always nearby in those days as well. Drinking ginger ale today, no barf bag necessary.
Out of curiosity, I checked for a barf bag in the seat in front of me. It says ‘waste’, no mention of barf, vomit, puke, emesis, upcheck, hurl, or even sick – all words that might place that evil little thought into your conscious. ‘+1’ to the marketing department for that move.
I got a whole can of ginger ale! That’s what I’m talking about! No cost-saving measures on this trip! I also got a bag of pretzels which were also pretty tasty. The best part of both? I got to take my mask off to consume both of them. I am looking forward to the same experience on my connecting flight.
The woman next to me ordered ginger ale after I did. I’m hoping that it’s because I’m an influencer or because she also has an affinity for ginger ale and not because she needs to… waste. Perhaps she should open the window so we can orient ourselves?
The end of my first leg ended with quite the thump on landing. Had the woman next to me had the window open, I might have been a bit more prepared. I, like others, gasped a bit. After taxiing what seemed like forever, we pull into the apron and skid to a stop. The captain did not exit the cockpit and greet the passengers afterwards. It’s not hard to understand why.
I changed planes at DFW. I had twenty minutes from the time the plane door opened until boarding was scheduled for my next flight. I was in Terminal B, my connecting flight was in Terminal D. Ms. Boss’ attempt to properly hydrate required a small stop on the way. Moving quite quickly, leaping into the SkyTrain as the doors were closing, moving quickly when the people move wasn’t, I made it in time for boarding… only to be told that the flight would be delayed.
Second flight? No ginger ale, no pretzels. Bummer. On a positive note, I did get a window seat. That @&$#% stayed open… the entire…time…
I made it. As soon as the wheels hit the runway, I text Ms. Boss advising that I have lived to see another day and prepared myself to tackle baggage retrieval and ground transportation to my final destination. Three things would have improved this little excursion – a car, plenty of time, and Ms. Boss – and most definitely not in that order.
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