Star Log: Flight DL2282. The Epilogue.

funny,laugh,painful

I arrived at JFK at 6:00 am this morning for an 8am departure.  The details of the day can be found in Part 1 of Just Another Manic Monday.

And now as Paul Harvey would say, here is the rest of the story:

*4:00 pm. We are standing in queue for de-icing. Captain announces that he’ll give this another hour and a half before he makes a final call. He says he can’t give an estimate on departure time. (Eyebrows up. Crowd is wary but still believing.)

* 4:05 pm. We sit. 8 hours and counting and still not in the air. We sit. And we wait. (Twisting in our seats. Cannot get comfortable. Where’s the line between claustrophobia and panic?)

* 4:30 pm. Captain: “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this however we are timed out. FAA regulations require us to go back to the gate as the crew cannot be on duty for more than 15 hours.” (The cabin is silent. You are timed out my a**! Calm before shock sets in. He did NOT just say that!)

* 5:30 pm. Captain: “Sorry folks. All the gates are taken and we need an aircraft to vacate a gate.” (Crowd rumbling now. Insurrection on the cusp. Passengers ignoring calls to sit down while plane is in active taxi-way.)

* 5:50 pm. Passenger: “Do you think you can give these kids some cookies, or crackers, or chips or something. They are famished.” (One offering of water and juice for the entire painful show. Are we racing to the bottom in airline client experience here?)

* 6:00 pm. Captain: “Folks we’re heading to the gate now.” (What a coinkidinky! I arrived at JFK at 6 am. It’s now 6 pm. 12 hours. But who the hell is counting!  Round trip without leaving the ground! The plane is supersonic.  I didn’t even know that I went West and back again.)

* 6:30 pm. De-plane. The sorry looking pack is herded to the Service Desk to re-book and sort out luggage. (And, yet another interminable wait. I note the small basket at the front of the line: 15 bags of pretzels, 10 2-packs of short bread cookies and 3 Cokes – – all this goodness for 150 passengers. This is what they call a Peace Offering?)

* 7:00 pm. “Sir, it could take anywhere from 1 to 4 hours to find your luggage, or we can forward your luggage on to your destination.” (Is this a Saturday Night Live skit? 4 hours?! Am I on candid camera?  They are waiting for me to crack. I refuse to crack. I will not crack. I will not crack. I will not crack.  I stare at the Customer Service Rep who has taken her share of beatings this evening. I step feebly away from the desk mumbling “1 to 4 hours”.)

* 7:50 pm. Bag rolls down the conveyor. (I’m looking at it like it’s an oasis and I’m parched. Could it really be my bag? There is LIGHT.)

* 9:30 pm.  Home! Susan and Dog give the King wide berth.  Hostility has a pungent smell and they want no part of it.

* Epilogue. Bonus! Tomorrow we get to try it all over again…


Image Credit

Just another manic Monday

image

* 4:30 am. Wake before alarm. Heading West for conference.

* 5:05 am. Get in car. Large fluffy flakes coating car. (Beautiful morning!)

* 6:00 am. Arrive at JFK Airport in good time. (All good)

* 6:10 am. I discover I’m at wrong terminal. (Tension building)

* 6:15 am. Check luggage. Hit with $25 bag fee. (Annoyed)

* 6:20 am. Get scolded by TSA agent for not removing my belt. (Rattled. Hope not to get frisked.)

* 6:23 am. Gather luggage. Put on shoes. Prep for long walk to right terminal. (DK is at his best when he’s in motion.)

* 6:24 am. Something is off. I turn back to empty bins. Find my driver’s license sitting all alone in bin. (Heart hammering. OMG.)

* 6:25 am. Hoofing it to other terminal. (You could have lost your license pal. Karma is at your back. It’s going to be a great day!)

* 7:20 am. Board on time. (Good omen!)

* 7:40 am. Two empty seats in my row in full flight. (Jackpot!)

* 7:45 am. Spot good friend cramped in row behind me. Invite her to my empty row. (Cheryl joins “Mr. Jackpot!”)

* 8:45 am. 45 minutes after planned departure, Captain signals a delay due to heavy snow accumulation and icy conditions. He asks us to be patient. (No prob Captaino!)

* 9:45 am. Captain indicates queue is long. He needs our continued patience.

* 10:45 am. Captain comes on intercom to say de-icing fluid leaked into cockpit and galley and needs to be cleaned up before departure. (Passengers groan)

* 11:30 am. Captain asks us to de-plane. (Madness ensues as everyone bull rushes out)

* Noon. We are asked to head to Gate B-41 to a new plane via a shuttle ride and 1 mile walk. (DK is back in motion. Stretch out the hams and butt cheeks – could those plane seats be any more comfortable!?!)

* 1:30 pm. We board another plane. (Enthusiasm rains! Westward Ho!)

* 2:30 pm. Captain explains that water lines are malfunctioning. (Like no toilet flushes on 5 hour flight).

* 3:00 pm. Catering delivers bottled water. Captain speaks: “There will be bottled water and handi-wipes to do your business.” (He did NOT just say that!)

* 3:30 pm. Stewardess calls for seat backs and table trays up.

* 3:45 pm. Our luggage is being loaded from the other plane. (Optimism re-fires again)

* 4:00 pm. We are standing in queue for de-icing. Captain announces that he’ll give this another hour and a half before he makes a final call. He says he can’t give an estimate on departure time. (Eyebrows up. Crowd is wary but still believing.)

* 4:05 pm. We sit. 8 hours and counting and still not in the air. We sit. And we wait.


Image Credit

Things and Flesh

great egret, forest park

Maybe love is the Lord’s trap.
Maybe He sees us as
the tree leaning over the stream.
Perhaps He can’t experience
the difference between
our pain,
our loneliness,
and the heron flying
through the special silence at evening.

— Linda Gregg, closing lines to “The Center of Intent,” from Things and Flesh 


Linda Gregg, 71, is an American poet born in Suffern, NY.  She grew up in Marin County, California.  Her first book of poems, Too Bright to See, was published in 1981.  Her published books include Things and FleshChosen By The LionThe Sacraments of DesireAlmaToo Bright to SeeIn the Middle Distance, and All of it Singing. Her poems have also appeared in numerous literary magazines, including PloughsharesThe New Yorker, the Paris Review, the Kenyon Review, and the Atlantic Monthly.  She taught poetry at various schools and universities across the U.S. She has been living in New York City since 2006.


Source: Poem – Thank you A Poet Reflects. Photograph: Thank you Amy Buxton

Seems tight. No, it is tight. Let’s go to the movies.

airplane Seats


Ahhhh yes. The joy and creature comforts of flying commercial airlines.  Close your eyes and inhale – – and wedge into your too-tight old jeans…with your next door neighbor.

  • Big carriers are cutting shoulder space by wedging an extra seat into each coach row. This doesn’t sit well with many travelers.
  • Arm rests and aisles are also getting slimmed to wedge in the extra seat, meaning more elbows get bumped.
  • And while seats are now being designed more ergonomically, with better cushions and head rests, the improvements don’t stop people from rubbing shoulders.
  • Plane makers deflect criticism, noting that seat width is up to airlines. Boeing designs its jets for airlines to do “whatever they want to do inside the cabin.” Boeing designers focus on “creature comfort that can’t be violated by the airlines,” like bigger windows, larger overhead bins and mood lighting. (DK Note to Self: Mood lighting? Bigger Windows? Overhead bins? Creature comforts? You have got to be kidding.)
  • Passengers aren’t happy facing decreased shoulder room, more frequent bumps from service carts in narrower aisles and less overall comfort… (DK Note to Self: You think!?!)

Read more at wsj.com: The Incredible Shrinking Plane Seat


Source:

Call it up. Do it. At Will.

black and white, portrait,photography,man

Here it comes again.
Inexplicable really.

How many flights?
Hundreds.
How many times?
Many.
And yet again,
at 1:30 pm this afternoon.

The Big Steel Bird reaches maximum altitude.
Floating.
Floating above fluffy pillows of whiter than white.
Sailing below the Heavens’ bluest of blues.

Your Life resting in the hands of the trusty pilot.
Your Body in a straightjacket.
Your knees butting up against the seat in front.
Your arms tight to your body. Tight to your sides.
You exhale.
Your tension giving way. Continue reading “Call it up. Do it. At Will.”