FLIGHT 18

I'll greet you this morning with the following disclaimer:
I am not sure if I am asleep or awake, so follow closely.

Good morning all,
Somehow in the midst of it all I have to laugh.
A simple trip to the airport turned into a total fiasco.
One has to be on top of it all to travel to New York city to start with.
Especially alone and at night.
Sam called to say the flight was delayed 20 minutes due to the weather.
This gave Kathy a few more minutes to sit and chat at the local watering hole, exchanging stories, expressing our condolences for the loss of another great Mom and just catching up.
Some caught up on the upcoming community events scheduled for the weekend, while others caught up on the free beers circulating the bar.
We shared feelings of loss as well as wonder and amazement that we are now our parents.
We are those 55 year olds who our mom and dads used to be.We are those same folks who slowed down, retired, became ill, rested and napped now, and had attained a simple Life.
We listened to Billy recite the same joke; laughing again and again, both at the joke and fact that this is the umteenth time we have heard it. Each time with the same inflection in his voice,the same gestures with his hands and the same silly punch line.
Time is passing and Kathy decides it is time to venture to LaGuardia Airport.
The ride is only 35 minutes away, the weather is rainy but mild and Sam has called again to let us know there will be another 20 minute delay.
As the group congregates outside we take time to "bless" Frankie's new car, run to the bathroom,and say our goodbyes.
As I am almost out the door, it dawns on me Kathy will be riding alone.
For those of you who know me, you know I offered to ride with her.
In my mind, it would be a quick trip there and back, why not?
So off we go, southbound to the airport to pick up Sam.
Now everyone knows the reason you ride is to keep the driver awake.
I been to the airport, I seen the people, planes, the new Dunkin Donuts in the terminals...
So this journey is strictly outta' friendship.
The road is clear of traffic and I have sipped just enough to keep her wide awake with my garbled words,and attempted verbal short stories.
We laugh more than anything and the time passes quickly.
When we get to the terminal, it becomes the regular airport routine, looking at the signs , searching for parking and staying to the left of the yellow cabs and crazy NY drivers.
In the parking lot we decide to park towards the end of the aisle as opposed to across in a tight space tucked between two vans. Safety first, I'm thinking.
In the terminal we remark how slow it is; the absence of a heavy flow of folks seems odd.
The few people we see are quite strange.
"It is late in the night and we are in New York", I confess.
While I skip around the room in my Gemini mind, I wonder who is who.
I think of the Great Design God has; how so many people could be different but actually the same! I wonder where they have traveled from and who they are to greet. I watch lovers kiss and hug and babies sleep sound. I laugh at those who have evidently kept company so long they LOOK like each other. I watch folk eat, sleep on their luggage and fight the carousel for the reunion of their baggage. Kathy sleeps. Nodding in and out; awakening to my giggling, and under -my breath comments with an occassional " Sam come yet?".
Oh yeah, Sam. I imagined who Sam might be. I envisioned him in my mind.
The sky cap comes by one more time to remind us the flight will be late. We had made our aquaintance earlier with Robert, the skycap. (For those of you who know me, you don't have to flip to the last chapter to know I made a bunch of friends.) He gives us a returned luggage cart, thus freeing us a$5.00 charge to rent one. Time slowly passes and we are awakened to the quick thought that the phones are in the car. We journey back thru the parking lot and retrieve our valued possesions, our means of communication, our verbal life. This is the second time we have passed the guard, I nod my head and say "hello".
Back at the terminal an influx of folks roll up on us. Slow moving and tired they search for baggage and friends. No Sam. Finally a little after 12 we decide if we are going to the Ladies Room singularly or together, with the rented cart. Kathy goes first. Sam arrives just like I predicted, while she was squatting over a nasty terminal toilet searching for toilet paper.
I should play the Lottery.
Sam is not Sam.
She is a beautiful brown complected woman with premature grey silver streaked hair! A bolt of laughter and joy. I was so entertained at the standup comical performance she graced us with.
We laughed again.
Sam travels light. Our rented cart held her two bags and to push it took minimal effort. We talked more about the flight and the folks aboard and walked fast as by now we were all tired. Sam made a request for a stiff drink and Kathy and I remembered we had already done that. By now, it was about 3 hours ago.
As we rolled up to the car, it was l almost in unison, we three beautiful mature Black women said,
"What the hell happened????!!!". There we were in the middle of a Delta terminal parking lot, late at night, tired, laughed out and looking straight on into a flat tire. Not a tire low on air, a completly flat tire. Start taking that stuff out the trunk, I professed. Suddenly God was a part of our crew.
Memory is awesome. Fear is, how do they say it? False Evidence Appearing Real? I felt like th e Super Hero at this point. We needed to get home. As I jumped in to my character, I confiscated Kat's phone and began to trial and error the new technolgy. I reached the easy to remember 800 number for triple A, connecting with an ethnic voice in the night who offered her assistance to me."Benita is my name", she says. Well Benita hope you've had your coffee. She serches my many names in her data base coming up with nothing. I am in view of a gathering of people halfway down the parking aisle. My patients is getting less and less but I remember to trust God in all situations. So I begin MY standup routine. There is no way 3 beautiful women have to sit and guess about a flat tire. OK, I am the only one of us who can even attempt to change the tire.
But,no, not tonite. Especially in the attire I have on; the answer is no, plain old NO.
(I could go into a whole litany about being prepared, but this blog is already too long).
I digress.
Here is where the cheer leading comes in...
I yell to the group of folks down the aisle for a volunteer to change a tire.
No response.
I yell again and forthcoming are some very masculine, attractive, men.
Like a commercial for AXE they flow with a gentle march; in step, gradually approaching.
Sam is tired having been up since 11 two days ago by now, Kathy fussing about all the crap in her trunk. Its a scene from SNL. Laugh, it was quite funny.
In their Spanish dialect they greet us and offer to help. My Spanish being quite poor, I have to use my eyes to communicate. They all hail from either Nicaragua, or `Columbia and are here to complete a band. Music?! Sing, I demand... and the concert commences.
As the nicest gentleman instructs us how to change a tire properly, we look on in amazement. This was supposed to be a 35 minute trip.
I converse with them about singing and music,culture,traditions and inquire repeatedly how to say some choice phrases in Spanish.
The tire is finally changed, the whole process completed.
The spare is flat.
Yup, the MOBIL station across the way is looking better and better as we watch the events pass in front of us.
"Call your brother", Sam says.
I'm still wondering which brother she was referring to.
It is, now, early am.
No brother in the whole wide world would have come out to help.
Our Nicaraguan boys now decide we should have taken the tire across the street first.
In total disgust, we pack everything in the car in attempt to journey across the highway to the gas station. For some reason the ONE WAY sign has no significance while Kathy is driving on three wheels and a rim. We round a circle going the wrong way, turn left onto another one way and proceed down the wrong side of the road going north. Sam responses unfavorably to Kat's off the road course. In the meantime there is a 4 foot high cement divider between us and the Mobil station. Northern Blvd never seemed so long a ride. I spot a BP station and we proceed to scramble for quarters while glaring at the taxi driver parked in front of the air hose. Kat waits for my direction. I am a pro at pumping air into a low tire. I am also the recipient of gifted tires from my friends. I am blessed. So I pump the air, request a tire gauge, (in Spanish) and we're off!
Until "Hector " tells us down the street is a 24 hour tire center. The journey resumes... I have never spoke so much Spanish at one time in my Life. We dwell upon the fact we have to get home to go to work which now is only in a couple of hours. The Sun somewhere in the distance is waiting to creep up on us, the Moon shining with its half cracked smile; waiting to see what will transpire next. At the Tire Center we bargain for a new tire as opposed to a USED $30.00 no tread. We went with the no tread. As we left our last destination, Sam crooning for a mixed drink, any drink, Kat nodding for sleep and me trying to get out of my hero disguise we join voices in a quick prayer of a safe ride, sound working car and thank God for a successful day. The ride home was peaceful. No traffic to watch just music to sing by and the remaining sounds of the rhythmic beat of WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!!! woof woof...or was it ATOMIC DAWG?
The next time someone greets me to an airport run, I will kindly display my credit card, debit card or $65.00 for RED DOT or Connecticut limo.
Nah, on second thought, this story could make me rich.
God bless and always know GOD has your back... just keep looking to the front.