Flight of a Bumbling B

The Flight of the Bumbling  “B”.

Over the past 30 years, I have traveled to Africa, the Philippines. I've seen Rome and London, England. I have been through Chicago O'Hare airport and Dallas Ft. Worth as well as NY LaGuardia and LAX. I am a world traveler.  So why did this particular trip go so terribly off.  If you could have seen me, you would have thought it was my first time flying. It was such a fun flight that I just wanted to share it with friends and family. 

FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLING "B"

I arrived at Denver airport about 9 am; First, I went to the outside kiosk marked  US Airways and was informed that I was at the wrong place because they are American Airlines. No problem. Needed to go inside anyway to pay cash for my checked bag. Went inside, checked in; a mad house of disorganization around the checkout counters. My bag was 2 pounds overweight; removed blood pressure pump and a suit jacket; I blended right in with the rest of the chaos so I didn't even feel conspicuous. Except when a small spool of thread rolled out of my suitcase and a nice gentleman said, “ma’am, you dropped this”. Ugh, after I was trying to look so well put together. Oh well. Then I was moved to the side of the chaos since I had to pay cash for my bag, they would get to me later. No problem. I’m 3 hours early anyway. So glad I am. Finally the chaos settles into order and the bags begin to go in the back, the customers quit complaining and the agent takes my cash. Whew.

Now I am on my way to the gate. B15 – I just realized that is the name of an air force bomber (I think). Anyway I stop to put my bp pump and jacket into my carryon baggage. It’s all good. Then I make a trip to the bathroom and readjust my hair. This stuff is hot.

I lock the two carry ons together and head for the gate. My back is throbbing, but I am looking good. Suddenly, I realize I am still in  Colorado, at the Denver airport. It feels like I am somewhere else. Get to the scan check, now disrobe, strip down, shoes, watch off; laptop and cord out of bag, two containers, Vera Wang, and a carryon bag. I am still getting it together. Now into the scanner. Get your feet in the right place lady. Spread my legs and I almost fall. These darn panty hose are slippery. But I recover only to be slightly humiliated as agent says, “I just need to check your hair hun”. The “hun” doesn’t even phase me like it normally does.

Oh, oh. The bags have slowed down. They are looking at Vera. What in the world is in my Vera Wang carryon bag that shouldn’t be? I was sure I handled that. “Ma’am, is this your bag? Do you have a letter opener in here that looks like a sword?” Darn it! It’s that danged brooch! I knew when I was packing that  it should have gone in the checked baggage. But it’s my jewelry and it stays with me. “oh, I have a brooch that looks like a sword” I quip. “Well, just collect your things and meet me down here.” Oh bother, as Winnie the Pooh would say. This is gonna be a long trip. But, thank God, I have time.

Searching through, every pocket, nook and cranny of the bag and no sword. Where could that darned thing be? “I know you want to help me,” he says. “But you can’t.” Finally after searching in the only place I can think it might be, (and it isn’t), he pulls out my little change purse, which has everything in it but change. And Voila! There it is! He pulls it out and turns it over. “Wow!” he exclaims. Yeah, I think. That is so right. The light dances off the rhinestones and it is beautiful. I am glad that it is mine.

Now what are you looking for? He asked if I have some eyeglass spray. No, can’t say that I do. He can’t find whatever it is. I ask him to describe what he sees. Then I realize that it may be my makeup tube. As I sit here now, I think it was my lip gloss tube with the mirror and light! Oh my goodness! He can’t find it and I can’t think for the life of me what he might be seeing.

“Well, I’ll just x-ray it again and you can be on your way ma’am.”

“Thank you “ I breathed, gratefully. Now everyone is looking at me. So much for being inconspicuous. Good thing I look like a million bucks! Or at least 500,000. Clothes on, watch on, ticket tucked in bible, 2 carryons locked together and away I go. Man, my back is really throbbing. I decide not to get on the moving sidewalk. You see, I have all this time and I don’t want to get to the gate too early.  Now we have to get on the elevator, push button for the train, however, it doesn’t light up and everyone in the elevator is in a panic. Fortunately, the ride down is short and the doors open and we are at train level.

The first train arrives and I decide to wait for the next one because you see, it’s very crowded on there. The next train comes momentarily and it is even more crowded. A few people get off and a throng of others rush the train, almost trapping the off-getters to a pulp. Then a voice says, “the doors are closing. Please stand clear of doors. Miraculously, I am on the train, bags and all. I feel the wind of the doors swishing closed behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see and old man with a hump in his back from being bent over, force the doors back open just before they shut. He and his little old wife creep on. The electronic voice lady is not happy. “You are delaying the train! Please stand clear of the doors.” Everyone breathes easier now. We are all on and someone remarks how they don’t give you enough time to get on and off. We laugh or rather chuckle together. Suddenly I am leaning at a 45 degree angle and I can’t stand back up. The train has pulled off and I am not holding on to anything. The weight of my two bags is pulling me off balance as well as the centrifugal force of the moving train. I am suspended in mid air and I can’t move. By some miraculous hand, I feel myself pulled back to uprightness or is it that the lady I leaned into (or rather my bag fell on) has pushed me back upright. “Thank you” I whisper a little embarrassed-like, but not much because it could have been much worse. I could have been laying on the floor looking up. I am grateful. She grins and says, “It’s a good thing I got on.” We all laugh because she is oh so right! Thanks God. Here I am looking like a complete clutz again with my gold suit and Vera Wang bag and Versace glasses and bling, bling watch. What a spectacle I am becoming, but I am having so much fun bringing comedy to the Denver International Airport. But wait, the fun is just beginning.

When the train stops and we all know we must make a mad dash before being cut in two by the closing doors, the wheels of my carryon get stuck in the door track. I try to turn but can’t. The mob is pressing me. I try to lift but can’t. It’s too heavy. So I half lift, half twist my way out of the train and come stumbling to a halt just as the doors close behind me and the train whisks away. I wrenched my already aching back, yet again. And now the mob is flowing around me as I look up and realize, now I have to get on the escalator to go back up. Elevator down, train, escalator up! Okay then, here we go. I just hope the wheels of my bag don’t get stuck in the escalator. What an adventure!

I get to the top of the escalator and turn in the wrong direction. Everybody goes right to go up another level. Not me! I turn left because I’m sure I know what I am doing. Wrong again. Those escalators are up, but the flow of traffic is coming down. Foiled once again, looking like a genuine Carolina rube. Alas, I turn around and catch up with my own mob of travelers going up the OTHER escalator. Lord help me through this trip, I pray. We reach the top of the escalator and it’s home free from here, I think. NOT! The first gate number I see is 35 and I need to get to 15. So, I have time so I decide to walk and not get on the moving sidewalk. But again, my back is throbbing and I couldn’t possibly go any slower unless I was standing still. So I decide in advance, at the next sidewalk, I am going to get on and ride the rest of the way. It’s gonna be a long trek from gate 35 to gate 15. I arrive at the beginning of the next moving sidewalk. I got this. Should be a snap. No, it isn’t. I pull my bags on the walk with my right hand, at the same time I reach for the right hand side of the rail with my left hand. Me and my bags begin lurching and reeling. I just know I am going to hit the deck. But once again, my guardian angel catches me just before I become a  TSA accident report. Sooo embarrassed. I’m sure the world is watching this “bumbling” act I am putting on. But still I rise to the occasion. I stand upright, and then I stand still. I am gonna get the hang of this trip yet. We exit safely, thank God without anymore mishaps. That I can remember.

Several sidewalks later, I see the elusive Gate B15 sign. Wayyyy down the length of the airport, but I figure, I’ve got time. I don’t need to get on the last sidewalk. I’ll pass my gate and have to walk back. So, I begin my trek to gate B15 on the “even gate number” side of the moving sidewalk. Wouldn’t you know it. I had to walk all the way to the end of the sidewalk, which ended at the wall, crossover, and walk back to gate B15. Par for the course, wouldn’t you say? I sit down, I smile because I know I must write about this day. I pull out my laptop and of course you know I have to test and see if the airport has wi-fi in the seating area. Nope. Oh well, on to typing my story. I begin with a smile on my face because as I begin to think back on it, it is already making me laugh. A lady walks past me and smiles delightfully. I smile back. She has no idea but even in that, I have already included her in the audience of the comedy that is me, on my way to South Carolina, all dolled up and flopping around like a fish out of water. My goodness. This is gonna be good.

Sidebar: As I sit here recounting the joyful times of the day, the agent comes on the intercom to let us know that the flight is full and all first class passengers have checked in. Dang it! Then she says for us to come and check our carryons at the gate to prevent having to do it later. My thought: after all I’ve been through with this darned bag, you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands!  But it might not be a bad idea to just let it go. I’m thinking about it.

Decision made. One free bag checked through to Charleston! Thanks Lord. Goodbye albatross! See ya in South Carolina. Now that is a deal. Paid for one, checked two. This flight is looking up. Despite my earlier escapades, this is turning out pretty good.

As we are approaching Charlotte NC for a landing, the Flight Attendants let us know that there will be turbulence ahead and the Captain would like everyone to stay in their seats. She says, “it sounds serious.” He wants us to prepare the cabin early and have our seats early. Of course, I start to pray and my angels are on it. We arrive safely and again I turn left when I should have gone right. Right around B8 I find a flight information board and locate my next flight. We came in at gate B4 and my new gate will be E25. Here we go again.

I turn around and begin the long, arduous trek in search of Concourse E. There is a cloud of travelers around me going this way and that, all at the same time. When I finally locate a sign that says Concourse E, I have to cross a dangerous intersection where Concourses meet and you know what’s that like. No turning left or right. You just have to plow through the crowd at an angle and hope no one collides. Oops, I almost took out a teenage girl. “Sorry,” she whispers at the same time I say the same thing. But I am focused on making a mad dash for the entrance to Concourse E. Now, I am on the Concourse and the first gate I see is … yep you guessed it …35. My back is about to give way. I no longer have the little rolling carryon. It’s just me and Vera Wang and my laptop which now weighs about 100 pounds. But I am a survivor, so I grab my stiff upper lip, tuck it under my arm with the laptop bag and away we go. If I can just get up enough speed, the momentum will take me to the first moving sidewalk. Fortunately for me, I have learned how to get on and get off without tripping or falling. Or so I think. I arrive at the first moving sidewalk and you know it, I decide not to use it. I can do this. After I reach the end of that one, I come to my senses, determined to let purpose have it’s way. That is why they put the darn things in the airport, for stiff broken down old ladies like me. At the next walkway, I step boldly onto the walkway, or almost onto the walkway. I have underestimated my stride and my size 6 foot is only partially on the conveyor. I know immediately that this is a mistake but it is too late. Instead of gliding onto the walkway, I am stuck between on and off (but only for a split second). It was like stepping in a wad of superglue and not being able to free yourself. Luckily, I remember I have another foot so I bring that foot forward while I hold on for dear life and soon I am sailing along with no worries at all. Did I say “sailing” along? Standing on the walkway is like not walking, or moving, at all. I have an hour to get to my gate so I am not that worried, but geesh, could this thing get any slower!? So, to keep my impatience at a minimum, I attempt (very slowly) to take a few steps. Not too fast and not too many, but at least if feels like I am actually moving. Several walkways, and I do mean several walkways later, I finally see gate 25 in my view. It is already crowded around the gate but I manage to find a seat on the outside of the gate near the isle where the courtesy carts run over people.  That would be a good show to view while I’m waiting.

I decide to pull out my laptop and chronicle these world events that had just happened to me when the agent makes her first boarding call. What? I barely had time to catch my breath and it’s time to get up and move again! I must have heard wrong. And she is talking so fast, you can barely make out who she is calling.  I give up. I will just wait until the crowd thins and then get in line. My seat number is 21C so I am sure no one will be fighting me for it.

The announcement has come that the flight is full and we need to check carryon bags. That doesn’t apply to me because me and Vera and the laptop have come this far together and we are inseparable. Unfortunately, some people just don’t want to listen and a lady two persons ahead of me insists on carrying on her carryon. The flight attendant stops he in her tracks and there is a moment when I think we might see an altercation. But of course, the flight attendant is a tall black woman with micro braids and great big bulging eyes. She stares the little short fat white woman down. The woman relents and backs out of the plane in a huff. “Well, fine! If you’re gonna take that attitude!” she huffs. Now I’m confused. Whose got the attitude? As I board, the same flight attendant continues with her monotonous parroted announcement: “Welcome aboard US Airways”. I smile sympathetically towards her and she sends me back a blank stare. Ooookay. Moving right along then. I smile at the “first class” passengers in the cramped little plane. I can barely squeeze my hips down the aisle. How can they pack 21 rows on this thing? No wonder they want the carry on carried off. There’s hardly room for your butt, much lest your bag. Oh bother. (There’s Pooh again).

I keep walking and walking and walking and walking. The narrow little aisle is very long. Soon I run out of plane. Another flight attendant asks my seat number. “21C” I reply, sheepishly, thinking that I might have passed it in my haste to get away from “micro braids”. “Here ya go”, she smiles sweetly. “Is it C”, I ask unbelievingly. “Yep.” She replies. Now I have to turn around to try and squeeze my but into the last seat in the last row at the wall where this 6 foot strawberry blond is pressed up against the back wall trying to accommodate my struggle to be seated. My bag and I are finally down, squeezed in like a sardine next to a little lady from Chicago or Detroit. I forget which. And directly across from our seats is, yeah, the toilet. This is epic! We are practically sitting in the toilet! So glad the flight is only 30 minutes long. People won’t have to use the toilet in the next 30 minutes, right? Wrong!

The attendant is kind enough to offer us the two empty seats in front of the toilet, but we both decline because well we would have to pry ourselves out of the sardine can we are in just to squeeze into another. We are up and away and a lady rushes her little boy to the bathroom and they both go in. I don’t know how, but they both fit. No problem. I am having light conversation with my cabin partner. She is very interesting. Then a young woman flies to the back, startled that someone had actually beat her to the bathroom. So she waits there wedged in between us and the bathroom door. Suddenly, the door bursts open and she flies out of the bathroom. I was so busy talking with my seatmate, I had not even realized the switch had taken place. Ahh, it was going to be okay. All this had taken place and we were still on the ground. Now the flight attendant takes her seat. I won’t even go into the fiasco that occurred as she attempted to take us through the “safety” talk. Oh no, you don’t want to know. But she sits down and as we get airborne, the toilet door flies open. She is seated right inbetwix it and us so she just reaches up to close it and secure it, without ever leaving her seat. Moments later, she reaches up and opens the toilet door to reach inside and get some tissue to blow her nose, all while she is seated. I guess the ascent into the wild blue yonder has caused the “stuff” in the toilet to move because there came such a stench into the air that I thought I would be sick. My seat mate was turning green around the gills. The attendant noticed our discomfort and promised to add something to the toilet that would kill the stench.  I looked at my seat mate and one of us said, “maybe we should move up to those two seats.” I honestly don’t know which of us said it but I do know we both thought it at the same time. I asked the attendant if we could move right away even though it felt like we were still climbing. Oh yes, now I remember. I told my seatmate, “As soon as we level off, we’re moving up there.” She immediately agreed. But we couldn’t wait that long and the attendant let us get up and move right away. The rest of the flight (now that's another blog post) and we were soon preparing for landing in Charleston, SC. 

Thank you Lord. We were the last to leave the plane, of course, but my seatmate had remarked that we were the favorite passengers because we were the last ones off the plane. She herself was a former flight attendant, so she would know. We trudged the mile to the baggage claim together. But what should my eyes behold, just before we reached our destination? Blanche! Yay! My heart leaped! We hugged! We laughed! My seatmate chattered on about me needing help with my bags (since I had to pick up two plus Vera) and she was as glad to see Blanche as I was!