Well, there is a tropical storm that
is supposed to hit Austin this morning, so that made me sort of hesitate a bit
to travel “pretty”. Getting stranded in an airport with the ticking time bomb
of facial hair that is going to grow noticeable sooner or later is not a
fun thing to do. Still, it didn't look like the worst of it was supposed to
strike until well after my flight was scheduled to leave, so I went ahead and
took the plunge.
As I was driving into the airport, I
was passed by four different police cars that were all leaving the airport with their lights flashing and their sirens on,
and so I had to wonder what the heck that was all about. I never did
find out.
On my flight from Austin to DFW,
there was an elderly man and woman seated directly in front of me. The
gentleman was clearly in bad medical condition and couldn't make it to the back
of the plane where his assigned seat was, so the flight attendant told them to
just take two seats in the first row of coach. They took the aisle seat for him
since they had to just about lift him into the seat, and she took the middle
seat next to him. The boarding process was almost complete when a man I
would guess to be in his mid 50's shows up with another flight attendant in
tow.
"Excuse me, but I think you
have this gentleman's seat." She says to the old man.
"Would he mind taking the
window seat so that we don't have to move my husband again?" Replied the man’s
wife. She had a smile on her face, confident that her request was reasonable and
that no one but a pure asshole would decline to sit two seats over from his
assigned seat. Well, she was wrong, because after a brief conversation between
the man who had been assigned that seat and the flight attendant, she turned
back to the couple.
"I'm sorry, but he does
mind, and he did pay a premium fee
for this seat, so I'm afraid that I am going to have to ask you to move."
The poor flight attendant looked like she wanted to crawl under a rock
and hide, but she didn't have much choice in the matter. You could clearly hear
several people sitting in the area gasp with surprise as she conveyed the
assholes wishes. We were all shocked that this guy would force a frail and sick
old man to move. I sat there watching the poor flight attendant and the old
mans wife literally pick him up, one on each side, and lift him over and into
the next seat. I'm pretty sure that I wasn't the only one glaring at the
asshole that had refused to change seats. It turns out that this couple was
also going all of the way to Minneapolis, and so we sat in the gate area
talking about the jerk while we waited for our connecting flight.
When I arrived in Minneapolis, I made
my way to the baggage claim to get my huge suitcase and toolbox. Much to my
surprise, a woman stepped out into the walk way directly into my path, forcing
me to come to a stop.
“I just had to tell you that I think
your outfit is adorable!” she said with a kind and sincere smile.
“Well thank you so much!” I replied,
and gave her my best smile. To be honest, I consider this to be a bit of a back
handed compliment. Women don’t step out and block each others paths just to complement
their outfit. Now if you were standing around waiting in line or something, you
might well make such a comment, but to step out and stop a complete stranger
walking down a hallway just to complement their outfit is just not something
that women do to each other. The unsaid and complete message she was giving was
“Gee, you sure look pretty for a man!” At this point, I know there are going to be
half a dozen stories shared in the comments of this blog with people trying to
tell me that I am wrong, but save your breath, because I never have and never
will get in the habit of deluding myself. In the end it really doesn’t matter
much to me, as she gave a kind compliment and gave me smile. Thank you lady, I
appreciate that!
I guess that the angle of the
baggage claim belt and the orientation of my box was just perfect to allow most
of the weight of my tool box to rest on its wheels, because that puppy came
rolling loudly down the ramp at flank speed, making a most impressive noise as
it rolled over the metal belt material at high velocity. It was making so much racket,
and going so fast down the ramp, that the people gathered around the bottom of
the belt waiting for their own baggage all backed away in a near panic!
“ZzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIPPPPPPP! WHAM!”
My fifty pound tool box hit the
rubber padding at the bottom of the ramp and then momentarily threatened to flip
over the side of the rail before falling back down with another fairly
impressive “WHAM!” I swear I am not exaggerating
– at least three people gasped in alarm when it struck. While everyone else was
laughing and talking about the rogue tool box, I was turning several shades of
red while lifting the topic of their amusement up and off of the belt.
“Yep, there’s nothing like keeping a
low profile!” I thought to myself . . .
