Tuesday, December 29, 2009

the friendly skies

Anyone that travels knows all about flying the friendly skies.
  • Drop Off - you might as well just slow down to 8 or 10 MPH and push your beloved out the car door under the Delta sign. If you slow down any more, you'll get in trouble by the curb police.


  • Checking In - I do it on line so I save $5 on my bag. After nursing my scrapes from the drop off, I forge through the cattle line to reach the ticketing counter KIOSK where there is nobody to help me. After the necessary kiosking, I have to drag the suitcase to the newly added X-Ray screening section. I wonder if when they are done, they'll let me take it outside and toss it into the cargo hold of my plane myself.


  • Security _ I don't know about you but I get all warm and fuzzy in the security line... "empty your pockets - all change - jewelry - lap tops - belts - bags - they all gotta go in a bin on the conveyor" ...."take off your hoodies - your coats - your panties and bras - empty your mind of any thoughts..." And being "wanded" is a treat. A male agent is required to ask if you prefer a female before they commence with their wanding and ask if it's ok to touch you before they frisk. Need I say any more?


  • The Gate - Ahhhhhhhhhh, at last. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Delta flight 923, service to Please-Get-Me-There, Florida. In just a few moments, we will begin boarding by zones 1,2,3 and 4" . I am zone 4. When they finally do invite us to board, " the rest of you, get on", I see I am one of six people waiting our turn. I feel as though I am the bottom of the flying barrel with the #4 stamped on my forehead. Not First class - not Elite, not even THREE....I am zone 4. I rush up to have my ticket scanned and down the jet way I go to get stacked up with everyone else, EXCEPT I am at the back of the line because I am zone 4. And this is where I begin to profile. Go ahead, say you don't look just a little.


  • The Ride - Snuggled into my window seat next to the bathroom and the single mom of twins, I try to reach for my purse for my IPOD. However, due to the close proximity of the seat in front of me, I cannot bend over. I have to use my toes to pull it out and over and ask single mom to stop nursing for a second and reach into my purse. After a bit on the tarmac, we get the standard safety training but with a few added requirements: No blankets or coats on our laps for the last hour of the flight (why just the last hour?) and no electronic goodies to be used (thank you Mr. liquid explosive moron). I happened to fly yesterday and noticed that in place of the standard "What-the-hell-do-you-want-you're-bothering-me" attitude of the flight attendants, they were exceptionally outgoing, Southwest kind of "up" and overly helpful. When I couldn't reach into my purse for the credit card for wine #2, the attendant actually smiled and comp'd the drink. Another new tradition I've noticed on my last few (very smooth and pleasant) flights is passenger applause upon touch down. That says something about how we feel about flying in these new times.

The root of the word terrorism, is terror and that in itself is enough to make Greyhound rich and Amtrak richer. This seasoned flyer has never been fearful or anxious up until a couple of years ago. Last weekend, I nearly beat the poor pharmacy tech when she said she had not filled the RX for my "vacation pills". She eventually came through, thus my flying. Find me the person who invented Xanax because I want to kiss them.


Saturday, December 19, 2009

we'll get you there

When it comes to travel, I've led quite a charmed existence. I've heard the travel tales that make you want to curl up under the covers and forget the holidays all together...lost suitcases chock full of gifts, family pets who ended up in Boise when the owner traveled to Lauderdale, delays that inched up into days. I've always listened (puffed up with joy that the horrors of travel fell upon them, not me) with great compassion.. Today, I appear to be falling off of my blissful travel throne even as I type.

You see, I'm on hold with Delta.

I called Delta yesterday to which I was greeted with a "We don't even have a weather advisory yet ma'am". Thank you friendly, helpful Delta lady.

At 6:31 am, I called in hopes of reaching the same helpful agent. I had planned on updating her about the weather. After about 15 minutes, I decided that surely something had happened and my call got overlooked on their big, magical telephone board with white blinking lights. So, I hung up and dialed back.

Busy.

Maybe there's some truth that God will test you in the areas you have the most trouble with. I always thought I was a pretty patient person.

A few re-dials later, I'm quickly back on with the Delta listening to holiday on hold music and sales pitch recordings...."Did you know when you book your vacation with Delta, you can earn valuable bonus points towards car rental?' Well, No! Oh my goodness! I did not know that! I wonder if you are an Elite Member if there is some secret Elite Code that gets your call answered.

7:46 am.

Now stay with me because the following happened pretty fast.

I decide to purchase a 1 way ticket on Jet Blue, that will help me miss the storm the TV weather person referred to as "one great big wall of snow".

"Thank you for calling Delta Airlines, this is Miss Tanner. How may I be of help to you today?"

At that very moment Punkin leaps onto my lap, tennis ball in mouth, and pulls the earpiece out of the phone. (I wonder if the SPCA would take him back after 4 years).

Heart racing, I jam the cord back in and by the grace of God, Miss Tanner is still there, waiting to be of service to me.

I tell my story to her.

"I'm sorry Miss Hull, we can't change your flight, without penalty, until your original flight has been officially cancelled"

Scream.

"Let me check something with my supervisor Miss Hull. Please hold."

Giddy up giddy up giddy up lets go....sleigh ride together for 2....saw mama kissing Santa clause...did you know that when you book your vacation with Delta you can earn valuable......

"OK, Miss Hull I've checked with my supervisor and you cannot change your flight without penalty until your original flight has been officially cancelled."

8:49 am.

This is what I have learned...

You must let go of that which you have no control over.

Black berries are not Corell dishes and do break when thrown.





















Friday, December 18, 2009

joyful noise

At some point, the school system wised up and began mailing report cards to our parents instead of relying on us to hand deliver them. I remember the first one. I was still at the age when the report card content was more fluff than serious so I had not yet learned that the delivery could result in a less than pleasant experience. Oh, but I had heard the stories on the play ground; It could be a hellish ride.

Nearly bursting at the seams with pride, I part skipped - part ran home, the tell tale blue card clutched in my little fist.

Reading - A
Cutting & Pasting - A
Gluing pop sickle sticks/glitter sprinkling - A
Music - A+

Leaning over the arm of the chair, toe dug into carpet, giddy with anticipation of my Baskin & Robbin's reward, I spied it - There it was. The comment section.....

Talks too much in class.

The subsequent year's teacher comments began to reveal a pattern...

"Leslie is a joy: lively and creative but she talks too much in class"

"Leslie is a delight to have again this year but she talks too much in class"

"Leslie's unrelenting chatter is beginning to affect the lunchroom ladies down the hall"

"Oh God Please Mr. Hull, can't you do something?"

And so it began. My love affair with communication. I'm told the course is no longer called "English". Rather, it's called "Communication Arts". I'd like to think I had some small role in raising the bar on, well, talking. Yes, Communication Arts. That's better.