A long weekend getaway! Traveling on the spur of the moment! Being invited to hang out at a friend’s Air BnB! It’s all so exciting! But the getting there can be the pits.
My expectations were high starting out this afternoon. Traveling in and out of Dayton International Airport is so easy. It’s not much farther for us than going to Indy, especially when you factor in the time spent getting to and from off-site parking.
Traveling down winding US 35 South to Richmond in the springtime is also pleasant. Several landmarks always catch my eye as we wind through the quaint towns of Williamsburg and Economy. If it’s the right time of day, we might even share the road with a horse and buggy from a nearby Amish community.
Then the jaunt east on I70 is decent, not the racetrack of 465 around Indy. There’s not much to see, but as we pass the rest stop just this side of the Ohio state line, I always remember coming home from Colonial Williamsburg when my kids were little. The boys were still young enough to use the women’s facilities with me. Good thing. A woman came running in shouting, “A man out there has a gun!”
Startled, my mom, sister and I herded the kids into a couple of stalls and slid the locks. What good it would do remained to be seen, but at least we’d done something. For the next five minutes which dragged on like twenty, we whispered to the kids and tried to make light of our hunkered-down status. The emergency ended with the same lady- a self-appointed citizen of the law- announcing that a state trooper had arrested the man brandishing the weapon. No explanation. No closure. We just wandered back out to our rented minivan, loaded kids into the three rows and continued west. But I’ll never forget it.
Today, once inside the Dayton airport, I dug out my Real ID and phone with my boarding pass and then headed to the TSA check in line. There were three people ahead of me. Three! The workers smiled as I loaded my sneaks and backpack into the tray. Take off my sweater? No need. Take out my quart ziplock bag with liquids carefully measured? Nope. Just walk in through! My knees didn’t even set off the machine- no, instead it was the bungee cord stitched into the ankles of my pants that necessitated a quick pat down. A quick laugh by the attendant and on I went.
“Does it get any easier than this?” I thought as I trekked through the hallway to Concourse A.
I met my friend at the gate- the farthest one, but that was okay. We chatted, caught up, and waited for boarding. It was supposed to begin at 6:30.
Across from us a woman walked in with a fluffy blonde dog, probably about twenty five pounds worth. I wondered how she would manage its sanitary needs.
My question was answered as she daubed at the floor with a napkin. Then she pulled out a tube and deftly attached it to the fluff ball. As I was whispering to my friend, she invited the dog onto her lap to wait. The tube trailed down to the floor and presumably attached to some receptacle. Innovatovr, but ewww.
We chatted more.
A woman behind us leaned closer when my friend mentioned the new pope. Two more animals arrived, one a cat who loudly meowed its disdain for its travel carrier.
Time was dragging. I’d said my preflight prayers for safe travels and tried to exorcise airport videos from my mind. We’d talked about our weekend options. But the waiting was getting tiresome. “Isn’t it about boarding time?” I asked.
“Long past!”
No announcements. No updates.
We played with the flight app trying to figure out if we would have seat partners on our airlines-assigned seats. We knew she was in the back and I was in the front, middle seat. No luck.
We shared horror stories about seat mates. The cattle semen salesman when I was 17 was the worst. He delighted in sharing in great detail while showing me his catalog.
The gate was filling with more travelers, mostly singles and couples. And we still waited. Finally, with little recourse, we started people watching in earnest.
A man with a huge styrofoam box filled with food wandered from single woman to single
woman trying to find an empty seat. Alas, all were taken by the women’s absent companions. Strike out!
Other passengers were getting antsy and lining up to board. I took stock of travelers’ shoes and clothes and baggage. I observed that most of the backpacks that were to be passed off as “personal items” far exceeded the 8”x14”x18” size regulation I’d found online, especially irritating because I’d spent an hour stuffing and shuffling items into my medium-sized backpack to the point of bursting the zipper, so it’d be size compliant.
Then an announcement from the ticket agent: our plane had just arrived. People standing were to move to seats to allow deplaning passengers plenty of space.
What a madhouse! Every ten minutes or so, a herd of travelers would emerge from the jetway. Then it seemed that no one else deplaned. But between the herds, more and more people using wheelchairs were corralling together in the middle of the waiting area.
No attendants arrived to shuttle the wheelchair users to the baggage claim or ground transportation. Instead, the chairs were just lined up. And their occupants sat waiting. And waiting. Eventually, one man flipped up the foot rests, stood up, and just walked away, abandoning his wheelchair. Another woman did the same. Still there were eight or ten occupied chairs left, with another herd of ambulatory passengers weaving between them to find their way out.
Finally two attendants came to wheel the first two people back down the long concourse.
“Too bad they can’t hook them together somehow and take them all at once,” I said to my friend. “There aren’t many helpers, and these people have been sitting here a long time!”
She got the giggles. “You should work for DOGE!”
Finally, everyone had deplaned and special boarding was announced. My friend took advantage of her preferred flyer status to get settled. I waited for my zone. The last one. But at least I had an assigned seat.
I walked through the aisle counting ahead and looking at faces and body sizes, trying to predict how crowded I’d be in my middle seat with two elbow buddies.
But, to my delight, even though some rows were completely occupied, mine was not. I had three seats to myself! I quickly shifted over to the window and crammed my backpack under the seat.
From directly behind me came a series of coughs. Deep, thick, juicy smoker coughs. I hoped they weren’t also infected with virus germs. I could almost see the germs flying over my shoulder beside the window and into my airspace. But at least I had my three seats and no one to touch elbow with. I twisted around to shield my face.
As soon as I was settled, the pilot announced were were delayed. In his garbled voice, he mumbled something about weather issues elsewhere and a rerouting of our flight plan. But no fear, we’d be in Punta Gorda in only two hours. It was now 8 PM.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” the woman behind me grumbled and then punctuated her command with another rumbling cough.
Air Control must’ve heard her. In only a few more minutes, we were in the air, the snack cart had sailed past my row, and the way had cleared to the restroom. I always try to get there quickly once we’re at cruising altitude because of the ramifications of men passengers who’ve had too much to drink amidst turbulence. If I’m too late,
the stickiness on my shoe soles after I’ve been in the restroom stays stuck in my mind for the rest of the flight. But, happily, the floor was dry, and the tiny closet smelled like a flower garden.
So we have 30 minutes left in our flight. The lady behind me is still hacking. But I’ve said a prayer for her health, and I’m believing she’s not contagious.
And as I watch flickers of lightning flash and illuminate the clouds in the black western sky out my window, I’m grateful for the big things and the little things: a long weekend of sun and relaxation with my dear friend, an empty bladder, clean shoes, and a full row of seats to myself as we travel.
Does it get any better than this?
Wait a minute! Who’s she talking to? No one is answering. Is she on her phone? Doesn’t that jam the radar or something?
