At the aeropuerto

5 Dec

Here I sit at the airport waiting to make my way to Houston, Texas for the first time in my life…I think. The gate agent literally just mentioned over the loudspeaker that, “we’re delayed because we needed to make a last minute repair on the plane. But don’t worry, it’s just a knob, so it’s not a big deal.”

I’ve made a couple of observations during the last 15 minutes of our now 45 minute (and counting) delay.

I understand that things like this can be frustrating. However, there is a particular gentleman standing 10 feet away from the ticket counter staring angrily at the gate agent. Don’t worry, he’s important. He’s wearing a poorly tailored beige suit with a black turtleneck and Fryer Tuck’s haircut. He looks like a cognitively impaired 1980’s sports agent.

In any event, I firmly believe that flying is a privilege. And certainly we pay significant amounts of money to exercise that privilege. However, I’m very comfortable if the airline feels it prudent to make a repair before taking me to thirty thousand feet. At what point did personal safety and self preservation give way to being angry about waiting for 45 minutes. And what in the world is staring holes through the gate agent’s head going to do? If flying was like dining, there would be an incalculable amount of saliva in this joker’s food when it came out.

When is continued life not a priority for people? I get it, but I really don’t get it.

Also, I find it insanely interesting that I have to fight ever impulse in my body to avoid saying “you too” when anyone has told me to “have a nice flight.”

Ticket agent: Have a nice flight.
Me: Thanks, you too!
(Me realizing the ticket agent will be behind the counter for their entire shift)
Me: I mean…you know, whenever it is that you next fly? Damnit…

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