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I've flown thousands of miles but had
relatively few harrowing flights. Although one does come to
mind...like taking off from Los Angeles Airport during an
Air Traffic Controllers strike. They kept us sitting on the runway
for 45 minutes ... just to prove they were in control, no doubt. We finally took
off and headed out over the Pacific, only to hear the pilot
announce, "Hello folks, I'm sorry to have to tell you that we
have lost an engine and will be returning to LA." My immediate reaction was,
"Hmmmm, I wonder if they're going to try to keep us up here
for 45 minutes!" They didn't, but that's another whole story.
Luggage...I've lost, and recovered, numerous suitcases. There
were just a few times when I wished one would stay lost and I
might at least get a new free suitcase out of the deal, if not
a new pair of shoes or a sock or something. No way ... they
always came back. This wasn't so bad if I were heading home,
but if I lost the bag on the outward bound trip, whew! Stuck
with nothing. Then comes the phone call, "We have located your
bag, and will send it right out to you by courier as soon as
it arrives here." Well, they kind of don't mention it's on
the other side of the world and will take days to arrive
'here' so the courier can bring it right out. They also don't
seem to realize that this glues you to the premises, in your
borrowed clothes, thinking that any minute now....
Once when I was making a connection to a short-hop flight,
I ran frantically to catch the plane, and as I stumbled
breathlessly to my seat, the thought occurred to me that my
luggage had probably not run quite as fast as I had, and
I would be a 'late luggage' victim. The plane
started taxiing out to the runway and then stopped, and what
did my wondering eyes perceive but a jeep racing frantically
in our direction. It pulled up alongside and (honest to gosh!)
the driver stood up and tossed a suitcase up to the
pilot's window ... MY suitcase. I couldn't see the catch from
my seat, but the jeep driver waved happily and drove off and
we continued on to the runway. Immediately my suspicious mind
informed me that this was not the first time they had tried
this suitcase toss ... obviously there had been a lot of
practice prior to the accomplishment of such a magnificent
feat, and I was relieved that I wasn't one of the one's
hearing, "We're sorry but your luggage has been damaged ...."
Another joy of flying is the airline practice of scheduling
connections so you have to run a 15 mile dash to make your
connection in 2 1/2 minutes, or your connection is right there
at the next gate ... but it doesn't leave for 5 hours. The long
run between gates wasn't just exercise for me, either, I
always had a video camera, two 35mm cameras, assorted lenses,
a footlocker full of film, some clean underwear and a
toothbrush, reading material for the flight ... well,
you get the picture. I wasn't just running, I was carrying at
least another half my weight in a bag hanging over my
shoulder.
Once when I arrived at an outgoing gate, gasping for air and
mumbling "I think I'm having a heart attack" to the guy
checking my ticket (who said, "Ah, you'll be fine" and bestowed
upon me an overly bright smile), the Flight Attendant spotted
me coming aboard, turned and stuck her head into the pilot's cockpit
and announced, "she's here" to the pilot before she carried me
to my seat. I was traveling free First Class, on Frequent
Flyer miles, and as the plane started moving before I even got
seated, I realized they had actually held the flight for me ...
a First Class passenger. Live and learn, I'm thinking, while
still trying to breath like a normal living person and wondering
if the learning might be a bit too late.
I'm not normally a devious person, but the last time I was
signing in for a flight, I asked about the distance from my
arrival gate and the gate for my connecting flight. They
showed me on the terminal map. I paled and
casually added, "Oh, I forgot to mention, I'll be needing a
wheel chair in Denver", and limped off to my outgoing flight.
Not a pleasant experience to find yourself being pushed in a
wheel chair when you are really perfectly capable of
walking...just not running with a full backpack. However, I
felt less guilty as we moved along. My 'chauffeur' broke into
a full run, dashing through all sorts of back hallways, dodging people in the public areas, then snagged, and transferred me to, a motorized vehicle which
proceeded to careen thru the milling hordes before it finally
arrived at the gate (I wouldn't have arrived for a week if I'd
been on foot). The attendant there yelled as we drove up,
"Here she comes!" and all those standing around
looked to see who "she" was. "She" was mortified. Once
again, the plane started to move before I got seated, but I
was moving with it, so I felt a surge of pride in my
inventiveness...but my self esteem had mysteriously shriveled.
That was my last flight. I've decided flying is no fun
anymore ... well, actually flying is OK, it's the foreplay that needs
revamping.
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Copyright© BZ Leonard 2000 All rights reserved
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