-by Crack
incompetent (in-com-peh-tent) adj. lacking the ability to have a clue.
My grandfather died. Yes, I know, thanks (nods sadly), thank you for your sympathies and it really does suck. I heard about his sudden death while in Atlanta. This was doubly unfortunate since Atlanta does not happen to be the place where I live. This not only put a serious damper on my vacation weekend, but added a new experience to my life: stand-by flying.
Now originally, I didn't think I had to go stand-by at all. There's
something called "Bereavement Ticketing" which, since a dead person was
involved, at least qualified me for the service. Apparently, the airlines
assume that "grieving" also means "desperate", and price accordingly. A
regular ticket for this particular jaunt cost $1800. A "Bereavement"
ticket costs $990. I'm such an ingrate — they lopped it by nearly 50%,
right? Right. But who has $990? "Grieving" does not mean "suddenly
independently wealthy" either. Undaunted, Crack charges into the fray of
plea-bargaining. Therein lies the option of stand-by flying.
|
|
So here's stand-by: pay now to get on a list (henceforth referred to as
"The List") of available flights and prepare to sit in the airport and
wait to see if the plane's full. If not, they call off names on The List
and might make it down to yours. I was told to make arrangements to
connect to a number of possible flights so I can get where I'm going
because all flights need to go through the company "hub" (fortunate for
me, this hub was St. Louis which was half-way to my destination:
California) and to bring money since it may be a long wait without supper.
So the trick is to pay the stand-by ticket fees, about $140 per ticket
(thanks to the first savior of this hell, Carlita, who donated her
airline employee benefits for my family to pull this off), overnight the
paperwork to the house, and get the earliest possible schedule so I can
have the day for negotiating power and luck of the draw. Fine. Peachy.
I'll be there, I promise!
I could get back home and arrive about 3 am. The first plane leaves at 6:45 am. It's 40 to 60 minutes to and from the airport given traffic. I can do this. Staggering home wasn't all that difficult: point toes forward and slam into Automatic Overdrive (I do it all the time driving home from work, don't you?) The challenge greeted me at the door in the guise of a little, yellow slip of paper that said basically, "You weren't home to give us a signature, so we'll be back later."
My first thought: DUH I WASN'T HOME TO GIVE A SIGNATURE!!!
With the skill born of a future Mom, I ventured to do at least twelve
things at once, including: un-packing, re-packing, noting details in the
day-planner, ironing a black suit, and phoning the 800 number for this
overnight express service. The 24-hour operator picked up and I surprised
myself by calmly explaining the situation at hand. She kindly explained
that without a signature, I couldn't get the package. I less calmly
explained that I couldn't possibly have given a signature since the
transaction in question was done on the phone. She kindly explained that
without a signature, I couldn't get the package. I said I needed that
package ASAP. She kindly explained that without a signature, I couldn't
get the package.
|
I saw sparks behind the pulsating red of my eyelids. It always boils down
to the simplest terms: Crack! "Look: my grandfather is dead. I have to
catch a plane. The tickets are in your office and I need them before the
plane leaves. How can I get those tickets?"
As if stunning her into an alternate brain wave spectrum than that of Corporate Thought, the operator came up with a solution: their offices open at 8 am, but someone is required to be there at least an hour earlier. She would leave a message at the office for that person to call me as soon as they arrived and I could drive there and pick it up myself. Okay, so I wouldn't make the 6:45 am plane, but I could make the next one... I'll be there, I promise!
Sleep was not a lengthy visitor. I lurched forward and (thanks to my
second savior, Jon, whose-patience-knows-no-bounds) I drove the car with
navigation assistance to the overnight office which was thankfully close
to the airport. I screeched into the lot and ran out of the car, up to
the glass door where I could see said early-morning employee serenely
puttering about the premises. I slammed on the doorbell and knocked my
knuckles raw. She smiled and let me in. Handing me my nemesis signature
sheet, I scrawled my John Hancock and leapt back out the door with the
grace of a cicada in flight.
|
| Interjection: any of you who know the flight patterns of the 7-year cicada understand that if there is a single tree growing in a field of low grasses, the cicada will somehow manage to swerve directly into said tree and plunge to its death. I'm not kidding; I've seen it happen. |  |
Airport. I'm at the airport. Must stay awake. Must get on plane.
Evidently, a "Triple-E" stand-by ticket is not a top-priority item on The
List, so as an addendum to the
"please-take-a-seat-and-we'll-call-your-name-before-boarding" speech, I
am honored with a weak smile and the consoling, "Well, we don't have many
seats available...but you have a better-than-average chance to get on
board." Uh-huh. "Is there anything about 'Bereavement' that can change
the order of The List?" "No. We don't encourage such passengers to travel
stand-by." I would've laughed if I thought that would've helped. It
wouldn't and I didn't. I took a seat and discovered G-d while I prayed to
make this flight and get to my mourning family.
|
