Once again my heart rate went up as I carried my Martin guitar through the gate. They passed me along, maybe too tired to notice. Down the ramp to the plane. The friendly flight attendant welcoming me aboard.
“Excuse me, sir.” Oh no. “Can I store that for you?”
Oh yes, my baby was tucked away in a storage closet. My headache was gone, but I was incredibly tired.
Landing in Minneapolis, the announcement was made that if this wasn’t our final destination, we would have to go stand in line to get our next flight assignment.
The gentleman in front of me kept shaking his head and throwing his arms in the air. His turn arrived. The woman at the United counter asked him where he was going.
“I am not going anywhere!” he shouted.
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
“I can’t find my mother!” his volume rising.
“I’m sorry, would you like me to page her?”
“You could page her! I’ve had them do that for hours, but she still hasn’t arrived!”
He was approaching top screaming volume now.
“She was supposed to come in from Chicago! She was coming from Florida! I can’t find out where she is!”
“Well, sir, O’Hare is still closed down –”
“I know that! She’s flying your airline! Why can’t you people tell me where she is?”
I would have lost it already with this guy. Not her. She was as calm and pleasant as could be.
“Sir, you have to understand, everything is very confused today. Hasn’t she called you at home?”
“No she hasn’t! I keep waiting for that, but she hasn’t! I keep calling you and you don’t know where she is! I keep asking you to page her and she’s not arrived!”
It was like a frantic kind of raving rant now.
“Sir, we’re doing everything we – ”
“No you’re not! If you were doing everything you could then you would be able to tell me where my mother is!”
I said, very softly, “Excuse me, sir.”
He whipped around and looked at me. “What! What do you want?” he screamed at me. “Can’t you see I have a big problem here!”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I can see that. Maybe there’s a way you could call O’Hare and have them page your mother?”
He glared at me. “Don’t you think I’ve tried to do that?” He yelled in my face.
And with that, like a miracle, he stormed away from the counter and disappeared.
The woman gave me that I’m-breathing-a-sigh-of-relief-with-that-being-over look. “Thank you for that,” she said. “Where are you going?”
I said, “I’m trying to get to Honolulu.”
She said, “I will get you there, and you’re flying first-class.”
I looked at her, amazed. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Thank you again for getting that guy to leave.”
She punched me up a first-class ticket from Minneapolis to Los Angeles, and from there to Honolulu. It was the first time – and the last that my guitar and I would fly first-class.
* * * * *
Aloha #WriterSunday, I hope you are doing well. Today’s #WritingPrompt is
Use it to inspire a piece of writing, short or long, a sentence or a haiku or a short story, and then post it as a comment below. I would love to read what you write : )