Plane flight trouble

Words 1932

            An utterly fabulous sprint today!  Stayed up last night ‘til 2:30 leisurely doing the last packing, Then slept for a bit until the cat woke me up gently calling for food.  I was totally in favor of beginning the day of travel with an hour-long run. 
On Saturday, riding the bike back from town, Pat showed me a path through the neighborhood.  At other days, I was hoping there was just such a path.  This day, I ran that path from the end of the Dewey sprint across to Lawson School and then to the ice cream shop.

            I was jazzed the whole time because I was really running and not just jogging.  I was constantly pushing the pace rather than mechanically moving my legs. Saturday on the bike ride, we passed several people. My sister commented that the people we meet on the bike are all friendly.  True; and THIS morning, Monday, I passed two ladies.  One was moving at a brisk pace in the opposite direction, and she said hello to me first. This is unusual because I am usually so eager to say, “Hi,” it’s me who gives the first greeting.  The second lady was not running at the time, but she was full of sweat and weariness—obviously had just finished a run.  I need to find such a woman.

            I had the stopwatch running for the total time so I used the countdown timer for the sprints—thus, I know that Dad’s sprint was somewhere between 1:08 and 1:07—similar time for the Dewey sprint.  Regular readers of this blog, may remember that the “Dewey sprint” is between two streets on the way to Dewey Park, not in the park.

            In my ears, I had episodes of The Story.  The first one story was about a guy who created a Digital Detox camp where people get away from the constant rush and demands of the electronic world.  This is something that I have considered often.  It seems to be a great idea.  (I realize the irony of this statement as I sit here writing a blog.  All of life is a balancing act—just like a fiddler on the roof.)  The next segment was about a guy who got lost while hiking in the desert mountains.  It was interesting because the boys and I were doing a lot of hiking/camping and we listened to books with a survivalist theme; one was Hatchet, by Gary Paulsen.  The final segment was a convo with the wife of the scientist who figured out that the camel has such a labyrinth of tissue in its nose that the air it exhales is nearly devoid of moisture—this is how they can live for so long in the desert. 

            After the interviews, I switched to music.  Rather than the ‘running’ playlist, I put on the ‘sweat’ playlist.  These are romantic songs whose words I know nearly perfectly.  The first was, “Up Where We Belong.”  I ran Dad’s sprint to this song.  Then came “Goodbye Girl” “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan” and during the Dewey sprint was “Night Moves” by Bob Seger.  These songs may not have inspired me to greatness.

            At any rate, after running, I called Dad to see if I could bring the boys down for pancakes and sausage.  He agreed.  Peg met me at his house and we went to the airport—arriving 2.5 hours before our 1:15 flight.  I considered asking her to wait in the zone specially set for people who had dropped off passengers, until we were successfully checked in.  I didn’t.  Hmmmm…  The first thing that might have spelled trouble was when the man at the desk was worried about the fact that the boys didn’t have visas. 

            “We don’t need visas for the first 90 days,” I said.

            “I see that, but what happens after?” he responds. 

            “What do you care?” is what I am thinking.  I am a big boy.  Why should the airline person in Des Moines, Iowa be concerned if we have an Albanian visa three months down the road?  He still was not appeased when I told him that we have been going there for four years.  Maxim started school in Albania when he was 7 and he is now 11. 

            “I understand that, but this is telling me…” his voice trailed off as he stuck his face into another screen and made another phone call.  After 15 minutes, he is finally satisfied and says, “Well you can get the other visa in the country.”  Something I knew all along.

            Next thing he says, “When is your flight?”

            “1:15”

            “Ah, well, it looks like your flight is at 11:07.”  It was 10:55. It was a short conversation to understand that we were definitely too late for that one.  Stupidly, I called Peg—causing her to worry and to get BACK in her car and head BACK to the airport.  The next minute, I sent her a text that she should not hurry, and that the ticket agent was trying some things.  I did not make it clear that she should NOT come back to get us. 

            The man at the counter has two seats on the afternoon flight and he does not recommend standby because of the ‘Midwestern mentality.”  If we were in Los Angeles, he would have ‘no problem’ putting us on standby.  I guess us farmers do what we say we are going to do.  I call the travel agent, Mary, who bought the ticket.  She said she sent something in April about the changed flight time—since it didn’t bounce back, nothing more was done.  It was sent to Maura since the boys’ flights were bought with QSI money.  Maura said she didn’t get anything.  I should’ve checked the flight times the night before.  Mary says that it will cost $850 for me, and $675 for each kid, to change our tickets for the next available flight on WEDNESDAY!  So…I decide to get the kids the last two seats, and put myself on standby.  If I don’t get on, of course they don’t go, either. 

            Through all this, Peggy is standing by at the library.  At least I caught her before she got all the way to the airport.  But the thing is, I guess she didn’t take her work with her so she was not able to make the greatest use of her time—Digital Detox.  J

            The boys and I are checked in, we go through security as if we are on the flight.  I tell them several times that we are probably NOT going to be going.  An agent comes to the desk at the gate.  “Hello,” I say, “I’m on standby for the Chicago flight.  Is there anything I need to do?”

            “I won’t know for another 10 minutes.”  A minute later, another guy, Joe, comes up and says that he would like to go on standby.  Same answer. 

            I go over and I sit down by Joe. “I’m glad to see that there are other people who are trying the same thing.”  We chit chat a bit and share our stories.  The agent calls anyone who is not on the standby list. I stand up.

            “You are already on.” For a second, I leap for joy that I am on the flight, but then I understand that I am already on the standby list, not the plane.  Joe adds his name to the list.

            Five minutes later, the agent calls a family of four including a baby stroller, to take seats on the plane.  Next he calls Joe to take a seat. Why he called Joe when I was on the list even before I came to the counter is a mystery. Joe, who was a teacher in Mexico before his job as an administrator at a university in Iowa, says he wants to make sure that I get on the flight. 

            Agent, “He won’t because this is the last seat.”

            Joe, “Well, I want him to have the seat.”

            Agent, “If that’s what you want to do.”

            So Joe is a lifesaver, I don’t know his name or any details, but I said, “Thanks.”  Maybe it is payback  for something that I did.

            So the feeling of relief was enormous.  We literally ran through the airport to the next plane.  A ticket agent was going to escort us through security until she was called back to her desk.  “Run to the gate,” she says.

            As I am putting my shoes on and my laptop back in the bag, I stop, stunned, and say to Maxim, “Where’s my iPod?”  So I get on the plane thinking it is gone.  I ask Maxim to look in the red bag, “Maybe I stuck it in there.”  During the hurry, hurry, rush, rush, I didn’t even ask around for it.  I thought that it MUST be in a bag.  Maxim doesn’t find it.

            I’m sitting on the plane, thinking of all the disappointment I will suffer without the iPod, and thanking my brother again for giving me his old iPhone.  I was running just that day and rejoicing in the comfort provided by the iPod because I can listen to podcasts at 1.5 times their normal speed.  Maybe that is a symptom of Digital Toxification/toxicity —I can’t even take the time to listen to things at normal speed.  On the iPod, I can see the text of the Russian lessons as I am listening to them. With the iPhone NOT.

            Anyway (you know I wouldn’t be writing this if I DIDN’T find it),  Maxim didn’t find it in the red bag.  After 15 minutes, I ask Maxim to hand me the red bag so I can get something else.  In the back of my mind, I don’t want to admit it, there is a small glimmer of hope—like a small flame that needs oxygen.  I mess around in the bag and I see a color like mustard green.  Did I really see that?  I dive in again and there it is!!  All of life is so much nicer now that I have found something that I thought I had lost.  Think about it.  If I hadn’t ‘lost’ the iPod, life would have been good—we got on the flight, I received an iPhone from my brother, we were sitting in a plane that would whisk us 8000 miles away, etc. etc.  But NOW, after I found the prodigal iPod, well, life is good.

            One more thing—this summer, I took the boys to get glasses.  I bought two pair for each kid.  Maxim lost one of his in Utah—they are gone. But I was still hoping I would find Oskar’s. I searched every now and then throughout the 3 hours of final packing in the toy room.  I was hoping they would show up in one bag or other. As I watch Maxim get out of the car at the airport, I look in the pocket on the back of the front seat.  I knew he had one pair of glasses in there, but this time I put my hand below the other bit of fabric in there, and I find his old glasses.  Then, with my heart racing, I search in the pocket in front of Oskar.  There, for all the world to see, are his new glasses, that I haven’t seen since July 8^th, and his old glasses.  Hoo-ray! 

            Now, if the airline finds our three checked bags that DIDN’T fly with us across the ocean, we will have the glasses.