Monday morning, 8:30 am, at 33,000 feet on a
McDonnell Douglas SP80 jet airliner.
First, you should know something about me. I
hate being late. Really hate it. I feel like I'm late unless I'm 10
minutes early. I don't know why I'm like this; I don't want to know why. I just
want to be on time. Is that so wrong?
Because of this - I don't want to call it a
compulsion, but....okay compulsion - I plan lots of buffer time into my
schedule. I'm the guy at the airport who isn't sweating the security check
because my flight doesn't leave for 2 HOURS! Who's laughing now, Mr. "I
don't need to get to the airport early?"
My non-stop flight to Chicago was scheduled for
6:50 am. We live about 15 minutes from the airport, so I figured I'd get up at 4:15,
leave at 4:45, get to the airport by 5:00. No problems.
I'm not the sort of person who oversleeps. I
don't understand oversleeping. What does that even mean? You just kept on
sleeping even though it was going to make you late? Why would you do that? See,
I'm prepared. My watch must
have two alarms and a count-down timer. I demand it. I won't wear a wristwatch
with less. Unfortunately, that means I have to buy Casio watches. They look bad,
like 1970s technology strapped to my wrist, but I have the full array of alarms
and beeps. The FULL ARRAY. That's why I'm always on time.
Of course, when I say "always" I mean except for
the one or two times in the last decade when I was late. Three times if you
count this morning.
Imagine my distress when I opened my eyes this
morning, looked at my watch, and saw that it was 6:10 am. For a few
seconds I refused to believe it. "My watch must be wrong," I said, shaking it.
Nope. I overslept. Okay, now I understand you oversleeping people, and I'm sorry for being scornful of you.
I get it now. It happens to everyone, even guys with Casio watches.
In the interest of time, why don't I just
describe the events that took place from 6:10 am to 7:15 am in a kind of
rapid-fire, staccato pace that would be a good reflection of how they actually
occurred.
I yell, scaring the hell out of Jeanene who
sits up in bed in a panic. I manage to shower and dress in five minutes. I'm
sorry, but I AM going to shower. That's non-negotiable. Jeanene drives and I
call American Airlines. "I think I'll be there by 6:35," I say. "Sorry, but you
have to check-in at least half an hour ahead," she says. I'm at the ticket
counter by 6:40 am. They cancel my seat on the nonstop flight and put me on
standby for an 8:30 that goes through St. Louis where I'll be on standby again
for anything going to Chicago. I check my bag. I always check my bag. No airline
has ever lost my luggage, so I don't worry about it. The man tells me the
system will track me, and my luggage will follow me on whatever flight I end up
on. I arrive
at the gate only to find that my original flight has been delayed, and they are
just begin to board! Sadly, they cancelled my reservation 15 minutes earlier. I beg and plead with the woman at the gate, who puts me
on standby for my original flight. Some soccer team didn't show up. The coach
probably overslept - the lazy slob - so I get on my original flight to Chicago
which ends up leaving about 7:30. It's all good!
Well, almost all good. The woman at the gate
tells me that there is no way to get my luggage aboard in time. So, in a strange turn of
events, I'm going straight to Chicago, but my luggage is going standby through
St. Louis, hopefully arriving in Chicago sometime later in the day or this
evening. No time to worry about that. Here's a plane to Chicago, and I might not
make the other standby anyway.
So now I'm in the air, wondering what I'm going
to do without my luggage. I hear it is in the 50s in Chicago, and I'm dressed
for San Antonio. Short sleeves. Also I'm supposed to meet someone who reads Real
Live Preacher in downtown Chicago for lunch. Here's what I think I'll do: I'll
buy a sweatshirt or something at the airport, go ahead and catch the L downtown
and see things in Chicago today, as I had planned. When it gets dark, I'll catch
the L back to the airport, see if my bag has arrived, then catch the L again and go downtown to my
hotel. Why not? We don't have subways or elevated trains in Texas, so I'll
probably enjoy the ride anyway, right?
I see you thinking. You think this is going to
be harder than I'm making it sound. You think I'll get lost or the luggage won't
arrive, or something. I mean, what could go wrong? I'm
only flying into a major city I've never been to and taking a train I've never ridden
downtown, making one transfer and trying to find my hotel. Then of course, do
the whole thing in reverse. So what do you think? Is
this going to turn out badly? It's 9:20 am and I'm an hour away from O'hare
airport.
We shall see what we shall see.
rlp
