Open Writing

Did you see that the good news/bad news US Department of Agriculture released new Dietary Guidelines? Among the surprises, ketchup is no longer a food group. But "Alcohol consumption may have beneficial effects when consumed in moderation". Moderation being two snorts a day. Tick, done that! Also "...may help to keep cognitive function intact with age". Yup, we're on track. The bad news...due to the potentially negative effects, non-topers should not start a two a day regimen. So there you have it. Is 9.30 too early to start? Hic?

Gave my wife a bit of a surprise whilst out shopping in Ann Taylors emporium when, after spending some quality time with the other chaps on "sitting on the bench waiting to pay the bill duty", an interesting conversation took place. Promised an extra 20% off everything, in addition to the existing discounted clothing, by merely signing up for the store card provided that some form of photo ID was proffered. No problem, my husband has a driving license she said (the UK card version not the floppy paper one that long ago disintegrated into various wallets). Er, no, I never drive with it on me. Genuine shocked look on face. Apparently in Florida and most states the law requires you to have it about your person when driving. I always leave it in the hotel with other travel documents. Well, if stopped we would have played the Johnny Foreigner card. Anyway we managed to get the card, and the manager gave us another 5% off everything. Must have been the accent.

There’s a reason why we work, and do all those other things, it’s to enjoy the time when you don’t have to. And so, all good things come to an end and our Florida vacation week was no exception.

Breakfast over, house-closing checklist completed for the next few hours of worry-free driving, we set off for Gainesville and a lunch meeting with my wife’s prior to catching the flight to Atlanta. A noticeable number of snow-birds seen heading south, towing an unusual variety of run-around vehicles to permit escape from the RV park and commune with the rest of us in supermarkets and the like. Now a compact car, small Jeep, even an SUV I can understand, but a long speed boat with two huge outboard motors? Perhaps they haven’t quite thought this through; it’s a little tricky boating to the local Publix in a speedboat without leaving huge gouges in the tarmac.

We waved to our usual truck-driver friends, Peter Bilt, Mack Truck (didn’t see his vicious brother, Mack the Knife) , listened to the usual MOR suspects on the radio, Foreigner, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John and The Eagles. After about half-way we stopped for a shot of Java at a nearby Mickey D’s. Well, we had never seen such a collection of misfits collected under one roof. Quite scary, most of them looked like refugees from the Ozarks after generations of inbreeding. Think of the film Deliverance and you’ll begin to get the picture. It was a relief to leave.

Local airports are always interesting places, tending to the local bonhomie of local folk underemployed, married to the respect expected by people in uniform, which comes across as friendly officiousness. Gainesville has about 15 arrivals/departures per day, but they managed to have 2 flights scheduled to arrive within 5 minutes of each other, that really put a strain on the staff I can tell you. Well, not really. The flights are mostly regional jet types, packing in around SOB’s per plane (actually Souls on Board in official airline speak, but more like Sons of Bitches according to the cabin crew). But they did seem to have an unusually high number of TSA staff giving us the third-degree, perhaps they’d got the new full body scanners and were trying to sneak a peek. The departure/arrivals hall is one lounge, and there are three gates. We were travelling on Delta airlines and as is typical with airline frequent flyer programs, they have to try and impress, even to the extent of two lines; one for frequent flyers represented by a flashy sign and a one yard long piece of, slightly grubby, red carpet.

The one good thing about regional airports is that you will almost certainly have an on-time departure, without being 20th in line so typical of New York and Chicago say. And so we did, saving 20 minutes on the flight due to exceptionally strong tail-winds. After we leveled off, the trolley dolly only had time to serve us all our drinks and not even collect the used cups before we were on final approach into Atlanta. With tissue saturated, iced-drink remnants in plastic cups squeezed into the seat back, good luck cleaning that up before the next flight!

With our flights booked separately we couldn’t coordinate seat assignments, but some sweet talk with the check-in girl arranged everything. Sitting at the back of the bus, inches away from the jet engines of the MD88, in a 3 by 2 seating plan we were lucky, finally, to have a row of 3 to ourselves and what a difference it makes. Again, an on-time departure and what good luck to have Mr. Delta airlines super-pilot flying us. Turns out that flying the same route the day before, this chap had achieved a Delta fastest speed record, achieving an incredible 738mph, due to the fast-moving tail winds! A quick check to the back of the in-flight magazine revealed that this plane only cruises at 505mph. As we approached Mach 1 a Hasidic couple got out their prayers books and read aloud together but even that wasn’t enough but we did manage a pretty snappy 659mph. That’s some tail wind.

It all had to end in tears, and it did as I predicted. It’s all very well flapping your wings to get there faster, but when you arrive, where will you park the damned plane? And so it came to pass, landing at LaGuardia we taxied to the Delta terminal and then came the unmistakable sound of the turbine engines spooling down, followed by the dreaded ping-pong sound of your friendly cabin attendant with the bad news that all gates are full, and did we mind waiting 15 minutes. Quelle surprise. Unfortunately the correct response is not “why certainly, we’ll have another Bloody Mary and some more of those nice peanuts.” The next sound was a loud sigh by 150 people as the bubble of goodwill to Delta, for speeding us to our destination, pops and collapses in a heap.

There’s one more thing guaranteed to ruin the end of a flight, especially after sitting on the tarmac contemplating your navel, winning the lottery at the magic roundabout with all bags intact, and that is…you’ve guessed…no cabs. That’s right, and bearing in mind that it was only about 7.30pm, we’re at LaGuardia, New York not Podunk Ohio, and there are only a few cabs trickling through. There must have been fifty people on line. And one cabbie, perhaps as a joke who knows, sat about 100 yards away with his “cab available” light on, not moving. Tensions ran high, and as we all craned our necks to see what he would do you could feel the collective will of the mob silently plead with him to move forward, and then and then, he was off duty. So cruel and heartless.

Until next time…