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From The Observer News
(www.observernews.net) Features and Series
With long lines everywhere, particularly in airports, it is all too easy to forget that, like you, most everyone is simply trying to get home. This story is typical of that. It is multiple stories merged into one that crosses the spectrum. It is a story that has probably been told before - perhaps by you - in various forms. December 21, 2004 I think I need to make a list of things not to do over the holidays. The first thing on the list would have to be 'Don't Leave Florida For an Arctic-Frozen Northern State.' Well, that didn't work. We are currently flying on our way to Minnesota. It is a land where the low temperature tomorrow night is forecast to be -11. For those who read quickly, that is eleven degrees less than no temperature at all. That is seriously cold. The second item on the Not To Do List would have to be, 'Don't Even Think About Going Near an Airport or an Airplane During the Holidays.' Obviously that one didn't work out for us, either. We parked approximately 7.8 miles from our gate at Orlando International Airport. We flew out of Orlando as opposed to our own little user-friendly Tampa International because Orlando was roughly a billion dollars less expensive for tickets north. My resistance to spending extra money, however, crumbled as we approached the Northwest Airlines ticket desk. The entire population of Florida was in line for the regular ticketing agents while the reasonably friendly looking gentleman at the first class desk was like an island unto himself. He was completely alone. To me, he was an oasis in a desert. I approached, handed him my tickets and asked how much it would be to upgrade two of our four tickets to first class. He punched keys in his computer, scowled a little, grimaced just a bit and, I believe, even sang a little tune before telling me the additional cost. It was only $10 over the limit I had mentally set for myself and I quickly handed him my credit card. I have flown tens of thousands of miles and only rarely have enjoyed first class. For me, the benefit is in the reduced stress. In first class I never have to worry that my camera gear will be stowed in an overhead bin far from my line of sight. The flight attendants even offer to take your jacket and provide a beverage before takeoff. I hesitated - but only briefly - at purchasing only two upgrades. In the end I decided that it could not possibly hurt my daughters to fly coach. I decided that it would, in fact, be good for them in a character building sort of way. I first felt guilty about my decision shortly after we leveled off. There they were, near the back of the plane, jammed in next to a man who probably didn't want to be sitting next to a couple of teenage girls. Still, it wasn't so bad, I thought as I returned to my extra large recliner seat with a footrest at the front of the plane. Guilt managed to sneak up on me a short time later when the flight attendant offered our dinner choices. Both my wife and I chose a sandwich on bakery French bread, fresh cut fruit and a wonderful slice of chocolate cheesecake all served with real silverware and linen napkins. I was afraid to look back to see what they were serving in coach. I think from this point forward, the whole chocolate cheesecake thing will be our little secret. December 22-23, 2004 It was too cold to move much. So we didn’t. December 24, 2004 Every year I drag my wife off to the fast food place in which I had spent much of my high school free time. As a teenager, Taco Johns was the place to be. Now, nearly 25 years later, Matt, the owner, still recognizes me, still knows my name and still knows what I will order. My wife is so wonderful. We were driving around doing last minute shopping on Christmas Eve day and I suggested lunch. “Where do you want to go?" I asked. She replied, "Taco Johns sounds good." It was her third time during our six-day trip. December 25, 2004 (Daytime) At the last minute my mom had to book a flight to Phoenix to be at her sister’s side. After her flight left, the four of us had our Christmas dinner at an IHOP restaurant near the Minneapolis airport. Bob, our waitperson, is the first human that I have actually ever seen shuffle. And he does it in a very happy way. Just when we were all ready to order, Bob presented a barrage of menu and special options that none of us had ever considered. Three of four of us were now confused so instead of ordering, Bob shuffled off with a promise to return and a cheerful reminder that they no longer accept checks. Just when we thought that Bob had been abducted by aliens and replaced with Evil-Bob-The-Non-Waitperson, he returned, just as cheery and bright as before and took our order. It was a time consuming process due to the many possible combinations, some of which I was certain violated more than a few laws of nature. It was our Christmas dinner. For only the second time in my 42 years, I was not enjoying turkey,mashed potatoes and the presence of my mom, brother and sisters. As Bob shuffled off in his cheerful way (with yet another cheerful reminder that they no longer accept checks), both Michelle and I cautiously looked around the restaurant to see who else was spending Christmas with Bob and his co-workers. For the most part, it was a fairly commonplace mix. Parents with children were seated near the occasional single man who appeared accustomed to dining alone. There were families with kids in braces, elderly couples and a father and son. One woman wearing the uniform of a Northwest Airlines flight attendant sat with her husband and son. Nearby was a family of six with at least one of the children outfitted fully in Goth clothing and makeup. Now I am left to wonder if Goths wish each other a Merry Christmas. All things considered, Bob is certainly not the worst person with whom to spend Christmas. He is pleasant, cheerful and quite professional. I do wish that he could be home with his family. I hope that his co-workers aren't his only family. I left Bob a better than normal tip - it was Christmas, after all. As I waited in line at the cash register, he very quickly shuffled over to ask if I wanted change from the amount I had left. I said no and again wished him a Merry Christmas. I now wish I would have taken a moment to shake his hand. I have a feeling that despite a half full restaurant, Bob is alone in this world.
In the evening darkness of Christmas night, the temperature was dropping into the single digits and a strong breeze served to remind one of our frailties against the elements of nature. We took a detour into downtown Minneapolis. Both Michelle and I had worked there in a completely different life. Our corporate existence then is now merely an occasional shadow in our dreams. Michelle left the car and headed out into the cold and wind down Nicollet Mall, the pedestrian-only area downtown. She had a definite destination in mind; in fact she had two of them. For her first destination, the winter chill and darkness gave way to summer warmth and sunshine. She was in a business suit enjoying lunchtime with friends and co-workers. They were all walking down Nicollet Mall when Michelle looked up and saw her Dad working on a new skyscraper being built. She waved to him excitedly. He immediately saw her, smiled broadly and waved back. She thought it was so cool to see her Dad while she was working downtown. She turned around and only for a moment did the winter chill and darkness return on that Christmas night. Quickly it was replaced by another summer day, much earlier than the first. On this day a very young Michelle was holding her mother's hand as they walked into the largest and most famous of all department stores in Minneapolis. They were going to have tea and perhaps lunch at the Sky Room on the very top floor of the store. Michelle's mother had gone with her mother and now it was Michelle's turn. It was what mothers and daughters did together. She looked up at her mom and smiled as they left the summer air for the rich smells of the new merchandise displayed in the store. Just before arriving in the Sky Room, Michelle heard someone say, “We have to get going.” Immediately the chill and wind and darkness returned and Michelle found herself standing outside of the darkened department store. It was Christmas night and the store, of course, was closed. Both of Michelle's parents passed away this year. I wish I had known where she was going on Christmas night; I would never have said anything about the need to get going. Perhaps she would have made it to the Sky Room to enjoy a brief moment of tea with her mother. I wish that I hadn't interrupted the destinations that she had in mind. I asked her if she saw him wave back this time. Through tears she nodded yes. December 26, 2004 The temperature was cold and breezy when we arrived at the Minneapolis airport for our flight home. Outside, we saw soon-to-be tourists lining up for their week of sun and fun in Florida. One man was already wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Clearly, despite the single digit temperature, this man was not going to waste a minute of his vacation. Black socks and work shoes completed his ensemble, making it easy for the taxi drivers in Orlando to recognize him as a hot prospect. Arriving in Orlando we saw a reverse migration. Families, brought together by the spirit of Christmas, were now going their separate ways. One middle age couple was parked outside of the ticketing gate saying good-bye to their college age son. The father hugged him warmly and then slowly made his way back to the driver's side of their car. The mother didn't want to let go of her little boy. Eventually, they both got in and drove off, their son returning towards his road to adulthood. He entered the airport without looking back. But I did look back. I looked back at my wife opening her presents on Christmas Eve. I looked back at my brother who, in so many ways, resembles my father, I looked back at my sisters smiling and talking excitedly about things and places in their lives and I looked back at the people I saw again after seemingly a lifetime has passed. The entire trip provided warmth and reflections that will continue to shape my life. It was wonderful to be back in Florida again but the Not To Do list had changed during the trip. The opportunity to spend time with family, the simple feeling of the season made the inconvenience of traveling seem insignificant. The first item on that list is now 'Do Not Miss a Chance To Go Home For The Holidays.' © Copyright 2006 by The Observer News Publications and M&M Printing |
