Travel as an Inspiration Stream
I really should fly more often; it provides a never-ending supply of A-grade fodder for blogging and picking the nits of the human race. Mind you, it doesn’t require a very long stretch of the imagination to come up with a sharp quip about some of the things you see.
I took off today for a business trip until Thursday to the corporate offices in East Rutherford, NJ. The drive to ALO was quick and easy; we go to
ALO is a very cute, clean little airport and the people were quick and friendly. I got checked in very fast and then sat around, watching the plane that was to grab us fly in from MSP on FlightAware, so I knew it would be late getting in. Little did I know that “late” would end up being the word of the day. I figure I at least deserve a funhouse full of screaming furniture for as much as I’ve heard or used that word.
The Saab 340 turboprop finally arrived and we got on board. My initial seat was 01A which is the left-hand single by the front exit, a rather cramped spot. As it turned out, the flight wasn’t fully booked, so I chose to move back a couple of rows, first sitting on the right aisle seat in the 3rd row and then switching to the left-hand single to look out the window and watch the festivities.
This turned out to be a poor decision for a number of reasons – one, we quickly ascended above the cloud deck and there was nothing to see except miles of a fluffy white carpet beneath us which, while pretty, is nonetheless supremely boring. Watching the GE turboprops do their thing was equally fascinating for a short period of time but, after marveling at them for awhile, then briefly considering the trajectory of the props were they to suddenly fly loose (they’d take out the guy ahead of me, nicely enough) and my chances of being shredded into bloody confetti by a supersonic blade gone wrong, they lost their rosy glow and I was left to my own mental devices to keep me entertained.
Secondly, there was an annoying passenger seated behind me, one of those guys who insists on introducing himself to everyone and finding out their life story…you know the type. “I’m from New Hampton!” Congratulations. I’m from Mars – can you shut the fuck up now? Thoughts of using my laptop bag as a pile driver wafted briefly through my cells as I grated my teeth at his zippiness.
I’m not a crank on flights; I just prefer if Mr. Saccharine isn’t vibrating in the seat next to me.
The flight itself was calm enough with only the slightest of bumps of turbulence. The pilot even tried to make up some of the time we lost by powering down in the descent – it’s quite something to whiz through the cloudcover, engines cranking out on full, at a downward angle. I give my kudos to the brake manufacturers.
The landing was superb although it was a bit disturbing to have the ground appear after the landing gear went down. The fog and mist had built up to cottony proportions, so you have to start wondering if we were making a fueling stop in Care Bear land or something when that happens.
The boss and I grabbed supper at TGI Friday’s, a place that never ceases to satisfy in portions large enough to choke a gazelle, and this was no exception. Crab quesadillas, parmesan-crusted chicken, Italian salad, and cheese tortellini, along with an Oreo-cookie cake to round it out left me feeling overly full and cramped. We found our gate and settled down to wait for the flight.
I wasted my time IMing the wife since the freaking wireless Internet in MSP costs. WTF? Who pays for wireless Internet in places like this anymore? Sure, you can’t possibly strip us of all our money for a flight, you have to squeeze the rock a bit harder to get that last drop of blood out. Thank you, airport stockholders.
Our vantage point was nice for awhile since we were right beside the runway and could watch planes landing and taking off, although they were all NWA flights and, I’m sorry, but Northwest has one of the crappiest standards known to man — grey and red. Ugh. C’mon, people. Use a little creativity. It just reeks of shittiness.
I people-watched for a good portion of the time, too, as there was a lot of subjects worth observing. We had the old African-American gravelly jazz singer, complete with guitar case, who talked in laughs to his companion. Then you had the prissy, tanned princess who was supremely annoyed at having to breathe the same air as us mere mortals. There was the lone, single girl with her copy of a feminista novel, stringy hair, green hemp bag, water bottle, and long flannel overcoat was sitting across the way, looking depressed and man-hating. And what waiting area wouldn’t be complete with the token businessman in his full suit and tie, reading the WSJ, and peering at the miscreants over his glasses and the debutante, sitting there with gloved hands clenching clasped purse and something that looks like a deep-fried sea urchin propped on her bouffant.
The most amusing person at MSP, however, was the woman boarding us at the gate. She was, if you’ll forgive the phrase, so fresh off the boat you could smell the seaweed. I harbor no hard feelings towards any race or nationality, but you wonder how she got a position of making announcements over a loudspeaker to a primarily Midwestern clientele in broken Engrish. “We bord you! We bord you now! Grit in pane. Aaaaaaaaah rowse!” NWA, you stun me with your efficiency.
Speaking of – remember that lament about the word, “late”? Try 34 minutes late out of MSP, given that we had to first wait for other passengers to connect to our plane; then we had to wait on the tarmac for 20 minutes while they de-iced the plane, a process that is fun to watch, but that took them far too long to get moving on; finally a long, long wait in line as they coordinated us into the arrival and departure patterns.
The late folks included Jerry and Mary Backpacker, a 60-something couple wearing matching khaki corduroys, burgundy thermal turtlenecks, and carrying matching full backpacks that they proceeded to shove and cajole into the overhead bins, straps and buckles pummeling me in the head. They then sat behind me and gushed over the in-flight magazine at loud volume for most of the rest of the flight, making me once again desire to whack someone over the head with a water bottle.
Thankfully, the A319 eventually rose into the air and we had good weather most of the way, minus the 5 minutes of rollercoaster-level turbulence as we passed through rainstorms over
Other colorful characters on the flight: The flight steward with his black pants pulled up so high his buckle was at nipple level, the Indian man that left his seat and went forward to talk to his companions every 5 freaking minutes, and, as previously mentioned, Randy and Sandy Backpacker who cracked out a huge bag of tangerines mid-flight and proceeded to peel a half dozen, making the entire place smell nice but irritating me to no end with their giggles. I was nervously waiting to see if the blanket and pillow fort would go up and/or if I would hear the sticky sounds of copulation as they hit the Mile High Club for a sandwich.
EWR is laid out like a drunk – curvy and all wrong in most places. Thankfully my boss knows where he’s going and swiftly wiggled his way through the mess, but I would have easily been lost as hell. We got a Dollar rental (a Dodge Magnum) and careened through the streets of
Check-in went easily and I got to my room and did the Good Boy thing: I unpacked, hung up all my good clothes on individual hangers, put my crap in the bathroom, and called my wife. Then I stripped off and jumped into the shower – but surprise! No water. None in the sink, either. And it wasn’t a matter of no hot water, it was no liquid exiting the faucets whatsoever.
A call to the front desk had the plumber at my door in 5 minutes and he proceed to prove that I wasn’t being a moron and there truly was a lack of the modern convenience of running water. He checked surrounding rooms, which were similarily afflicted, but then gave up and moved me from the 7th floor to the 11th, helping me pack up and carry my crap up there. I finally got washed around 1:30am and dropped into bed around 2:00am for a quick sleep before the start of my meetings.
Really, I ought to do this more often. Just look at my content now, Ma!
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