I had hoped for an early release from work yesterday, one order inbound from O’Hare was all they had for me. The weather was just right; a temperature just above freezing the snow melts gradually, the sewers handle the runoff without flooding, in a couple of day it would all be gone. I’d do this one run and then be home early, perhaps Masterpiece Theater had something good, and I heard rumor that there was a ball game that would keep many at home.
To make the everything easier, there would be a greeter on the order, Tariq would meet the passengers and assist with their luggage. The flight was two hours late. There was eight pieces of luggage, including one of those fold-em-up strollers, three bags that took two of us to lift; as I started down to the lower level of the terminal a few flakes of snow were falling. It took three adults to figure out how to put the luggage in the car, I could barely see the right rear view mirror for the monster bag that sat in the front seat, the stroller carrier bag sat in front of the grandmother in the backseat, the infant seat was one of those rear-facing type that was somehow set in front of the rear seat (I never did figure that one out.) All the time the women were going on about why I wasn’t in a bigger vehicle; why hadn’t someone met them at the gate, she was an actress don’t you know? was I a safe driver? would I keep the baby from being killed? would the trip take long?
And so we set off; as we exited the terminal it was obvious that we were in the midst of a snow shower, it was coming down pretty good, the four lane highway was a wide band of white with the brown streaks of previous tires. There was a wailing from the back seat: What was going on? Why was this happening to me? Are you really a safe driver? Would the trip take long? (and as was to be apparent shortly, the baby had just loaded its diaper). It seemed to take forever, one would croon to the by now cranky baby, one would be on the cell phone describing the worst snowstorm imaginable, and why isn’t she shooting in Hawaii instead?
It was one of those trips where, if everyone drives slowly and carefully, with plenty of space between vehicles, all will go well, and in actuality it did go safely; there were a few cowboys out there displaying their ability to go fast under these conditions, faster than everyone else, displaying their ability to change lanes even though the lanes couldn’t be distinguished; the temperature was just at freezing, when there is that mixture of ice, snow and water, that most dangerous combination; the car kept wanting to go broadways down the JFK, the anti-skid light was on for much of the trip.
About two-thirds of the way in it was obvious that the baby had made a deposit, there was a phone call to the home state regarding this, a suggestion that I pull over to let someone change the Pampers, I breathed through my mouth and kept going, no one was going to interrupt this trip now. And then my dispatcher wanted to talk: as a rule I do not talk on the radio when there is a passenger in the car, last night that rule was gold plated and mounted in granite; after the third attempt to find out if I could finish the trip quickly and be back at the airport within an hour I hung up on him….. (The image of us pulling over to the side of this highway in order that someone can dig a diaper out of the luggage, change the baby; and then I would try to get back into traffic—all without anyone being killed; that image scared the hell out of me, no we were not stopping, nor answering an ignorant dispatcher.)
There was no doorman, no bellman, no hotel, this was an apartment building that the company was using for their stay. This morning my back is sore from having to wrestle the bags out of the car, through the door, on and off of a cart alone; it is going to be one of those days when one lays down carefully, sits in chairs with stiff backs, and relives the adventure that came without notice. I have not mentioned the actress’ name, if I did you wouldn’t know it, nobody in the office did, there is a something about her on Google, yet she wanted to know why she couldn’t have special treatment at O’Hare.
The major airlines have offices of special-services, that can take people from an airplane to the curb through a devious underground route; my last passenger that used the service was Lily Tomlin, my passenger was no Ms. Lily Tomlin, in any respect.)
I hoped for an early night on my first day back to work; I expected dry pavement, an easy trip, perhaps an interesting conversation with an actress; instead, I had a tough one:– tension , poop, entitlement; but that’s the way the trip goes sometimes.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to write this morning, couldn’t see why my little saga would be of interest to anyone else, and it might not be interesting to anyone but me; the thing is over except for the sore back and the chance to write this story.
I hoped for a smooth passage, instead had a difficult one; isn’t that the way of all of our voyages?
The car needed special interior treatment back at the garage, the car-washer, Donald, knew just what to do to overcome the special odor of baby-shit; I went home and had a beer.
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I want to pass along something good that I saw television late last night: PBS has a a series of foreign mystery films, it was on one of the sub-channels available on HDTV; the one on Thomas Mann is worth watching, even with subtitles; the mix of actors and still-living family members, the exploration of seduction, ambiguous sexuality, avant-garde clubs in Berlin, the smothering by the Nazis. The whole thing kept me riveted to the end, a completely unexpected treat.
And that’s the way it goes.
Roger Johnson Weblog 