I can’t make this stuff up …
Getting to the airport four hours before our scheduled flight was not the norm, but it gave me plenty of time to people-watch and read a book from my stack of TBR (to be read). Chuck had a stress test that morning, and we were halfway to the Indy airport.
As I waited at the gate, a lady sat across from me. Her voice made it apparent she was not one to whisper while on the phone, so I had no choice but to listen.
Her conversation told me that she must be talking to her husband. “Oh, you ol’ Biscuithead.” I stopped reading and put my hand over my mouth. I so wanted to laugh out loud. Her conversation was quite entertaining, much more than my book. I had never heard the term of endearment … Biscuithead. Their conversation was short but sweet.
I soon realized this flight was going to be packed. The gate became standing-room-only.
As I boarded my flight to Tampa to work with the contractors repairing the house damaged in June by an AC backup, I lucked out and got a middle seat in the second row. I don’t mind a middle seat for a two-hour flight.
Photo provided by Janet Hart Leonard
The lady in the aisle seat was the sweetest elderly lady who wore a lanyard telling who should be contacted if she became confused or lost. As the flight attendant came through the cabin, she told the sweet lady she had to put her cane in the overhead. Then, the tug-of-war began. This lady was holding onto that cane for dear life.
The attendant explained it was a hazard and might fall and trip someone. I gently took hold of my row mate’s arm and told her I would make sure she got it back at the end of the flight. She let go of the cane.
I went back to reading my book. Shutting my eyes for a few moments about an hour into the flight, I was awakened by loud music. The man by the window had turned on a movie, and the music began blaring. I’m not sure what happened to his earbuds, but my attention was drawn to the screen on his phone from where the music was coming. He quickly turned over his screen, but not before I caught a glimpse of what he was watching. I saw a girl doing a bit of dancing … on a stripper pole. I’m not kidding.
As we were landing, I asked the lady where she was going. She said home but didn’t know where that was, only that she had been away for a long time. I so wanted to hug her. I made sure she got her cane after we landed.
I met with the contractors, and the repairs were scheduled. Carpet, flooring, and lots of paint. Oh my! Who knew an open concept would make the damage list longer?
It was a quick trip there and back. I headed to the airport the following evening.
Tuesday is my favorite day to fly. I love night flights. As I walked into the airport, it seemed eerily quiet and empty as only two of us were in line at the Tampa TSA Precheck. Two.
Four people were sitting at the gate two hours before my flight. A few more trickled in.
I have quite a reputation for “adventures” whenever I travel, and I thought the word had gotten out and no one wanted to fly with me. The gal in the gift shop where I bought a PB&J sandwich told me it had been a strange and quiet day.
About an hour before we were to board, Southwest sent all passengers to Indy a text message that our flight would be delayed. There was an impromptu choir of moans. We were to move to a gate at the opposite end of the gates. We looked like a herd of cattle heading to the barn.
Sixty-one were on the flight home. I got an entire row by myself.
Our arrival in Indy would now be 1 a.m. This is way past my and Chuck’s bedtime. He had gotten to the airport a couple of hours early as he had been to a meeting in Bainbridge, and he would have met himself coming and going if he had gone back home. He brought a book as well as patience.
At 1:57, my head hit the pillow.
A few days later, I woke up to a message, “The repairs to Quail Creek will be delayed as Hurricane Idalia heads towards Tampa.” There’s that word again: DELAYED.
As I said at the beginning of this column … I can’t make this stuff up.
Does anyone want to fly the oh-so-friendly skies with me? The next scheduled flight is in a few weeks. I can promise you adventures … and delays.
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.