Easy as 1-2-3

Easy as 1-2-3

I booked my flight last minute. I decided to leave from MacArthur Airport in Islip.  By not going to JFK or Laguardia, the rush hour I would not have to face.  I wound up, however, like a pitched stone skipping my way down the east coast to New Orleans.

The first part of my journey was a customary commute.  The route resulted in my passing of a particular railway platform.  I could almost see the familiar faces facing downward as they dwelled upon another day of drudgery.  Today I would not be among them.  As I arrived, as if on cue, possibly the loudest clap of thunder echoed across the airport.  My personal rain cloud (see past blog) perturbed I was trying to leave without him.  Security was light at this little landing strip so no terminal troubles this time.  I arrived at my “gate”, a bank of 10 seats and a big window.  On the other side of the glass was our little prop plane strapped with restraints in the wind and rain.  I started to hum “La Bamba”.  The adjacent gate passengers gathered for a bigger bird, one going directly to DC.  Hey!  I was going to DC, but my first skip would be Philly…wish I was on THAT plane.  Damn Orbitz.

The rain rescinded and boarding began.  My ticket to paradise stated zone “dead last”.  Near the front of the line were the Lockhorns.  This dueling duet was on their first travel in 30 years.  I know, I heard them, everyone heard them.  The plane was no more than 20 feet from the door.  Once we exited the building, the rain returned…but even I can make that distance in short order.  As I arrived at the plane I was abruptly halted.  Seems the Lockhorns, already dryly inside, gridlocked the line as they tried to fit their round carry on peg into the square overhead hole.  I was standing in the rain.  A few minutes in the downpour and I was drenched.  As I finally reached the seated set, I resisted the urge to shake off on them like a wet pooch.  But wait!  Even better, they were occupying my seat.  I looked to the flight attendant for assistance.  She just pointed to an empty chair as if she was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come pointing at my prewritten headstone.  This solitary seat was adjacent to a gigantic gentleman.  I longed for the LIRR.

I arrived in Philly…Wet, Squashed and Aggravated…and also late.  Luckily, I still had some time between flights.  We arrived at Gate E and I needed to get to Gate C…no problem.  Well, noboby puts baby in a corner, but apparently Gate E was a different story.  It resided in the FAR corner of the airport, away from its brethren.  I would have to take the shuttle and I observed 2 lines at the entrance…Gates A/B and C/D.  One was empty…the other snaked around forever.  Take a wild guess which line was mine.  Time ticked away.  Thoughts of breakfast vanished.  My sneakers still squished.  I successfully navigated this Disney-esque line and boarded the bus as my plane began boarding…but Gate C was now in reach.  A quick glance at the big board delivers me the info that my flight is on time.  As I near the gate, my smart phone app informs me my flight is on time.  As I get to the gate, my flight was NOT on time.  In fact, the plane was not even there.  Relieved I did not miss my flight, a new worry was birthed.  If this plane were running late, I would miss my connecting flight in DC.

10:15 departure became 10:20, then 10:25…finally finding a home at 10:35.  Why 10:35?  Apparently airline policy stated that they will not rebook you on another flight if you have more than 30 minutes to connect…my 53 minutes in DC was reduced to 33...plenty of time I was told.  We departed “near” the new time and we were on our way.  I perused the inflight publications for a Dulles map to plan my play from Gate A to Gate C.  Shuttle huh, why am I not surprised.  This was a short stones skip flight…I was going to make it.  Then HE showed up again.  “Passengers, this is the captain speaking.  We need to circle around the airport.  Seems a small shower has sprung up over the airport”.  The flight was late, my rain cloud however was right on time.

33 minutes was now reduced to 18.  My only consolation was misery loves company, and my cushion companion had even less.  At the gate I allowed him passage past me.  I being anchored down waiting for my planeside check in…he was free to flee.  I gathered my baggage and sought the shuttle. 10 minutes.  No line, she was about to leave.  I sat in the last seat, winding up next to my plane partner.  His early escape had gotten him no further than I.  This odd vehicle was nothing like the bus in Philly.  This lunar lander docked directly into the terminal.  It jolted out of the exit like an escape pod.  Viewing the returning oversized extra-terrestrial twin truck, I felt like an extra in Avatar.  I believe our driver was part Na’vi.  Our transportation finally achieved coitus with terminal C and we stormed the beaches.  5 minutes to find my gate.  I never knew the final fate of my fellow flyer.  I arrived at my destination…Gate C7…with 2 minutes to spare.

I peered up at the gate’s screen…

My flight was delayed…