Freedom

Hey now,
I'm in the native land. Can I get a "West Side!" since I'm in Vancouver.

It was drama getting here from the Midwest last night. I flew out of Indianapolis because it was the best connection, but meant I had to drive two hours from my house to get there.

When I arrived I was told my flight was delayed by three hours. I'd miss my connection and would have to spend the night in Houston. Then connect the following evening because there is only one flight per day.

Come again? ...Selecta!

I asked about other options. "Nancy" wasn't too concerned about my plight. I bought my ticket on some cheap as dirt website, so I knew it wasn't much value to them. I also am not on their frequent flyer program.

She kept typing, and sighing, typing and sighing. I was getting more and more distressed with each fruitless click.

"That's the best I can do Miss Fe...Felss...Feleese..."

"Call me Perdi!", I told her. Just to end the stammering that was embarrassing us both. I could just see was fixing to call me "Miss Felis-Navidad".

I took a breather and got on my hand held and looked up connections online. I noticed a few--Nancy was holding out on me. But I knew because my ticket was bought on Hotwire I was a sitting duck. But I'd be damned if I was going to spend 24 hours in commute mode--oh hell to the naw.

I noticed a more sympathetic agent and decided to approach her, even though Nancy was free.

NOTE: Just so you know who you are dealing with, I won the drama award in grade 8, was told by my grade 6 teacher Mr. Livingston I was going to be a star actress "with a host of credits to my name". And my mother used to pay us, her children if we could be the first to cry on cue--I never lost.

All of that, I am convinced, prepared me for the moment before me. Here it was, I was about to shine.

Looking anxious, I approached sympathetic looking "Margaret", explaining that I had drove hours to get here from out of state. I was desperate to get to Vancouver tonight, Thursday night just won't do. This was the killer: "Can you help me... please?"

Then I allowed a single tear to escape from my right eye. (I know, mad skills). It was a silent cry, but deadly. This must have pulled at her heart strings, because she called me "Sweetheart".

Pity, sympathy, call it whatever you want, as long as it got me a seat at 35, 000 feet.

Margaret typed till her fingers were blue. Whenever the typing stopped, I would manufacture more tears. Right then, the typing would begin again.

Sweet.

For Em-pha-cis, I sniffled some and said: "I'm sorry".

She announced there was nothing she could do with my ticket on her airline and none of their partners had flights today. But there was one connection leaving in thirty minutes, on another airline. She was going to call them and see what they can do. They didn't pick up the phone when she called.

Dammit, I just knew I was overnighting in blasted Indiana.

But to my surprise, Margie says: I'm going to try to put you on their flight. It may not work but go over and check in like you belong.

With that I grabbed my passport, wiped my tear stained cheeks. (OK they weren't tear stained--but I CAN do that--for the right price), and headed to their counter.

I flashed my great big smile, made chit chat with the agent and gave him my documents, while asking how his day was, and was he ready for the holidays. Hoping that all this banter, would distract from any asterisks or pending remarks that could possibly be next to my name.

My heart was beating so fast. I so desperately didn't want to lose a whole day stuck in airports. With that exchange of pleasantries the man gave me my boarding pass and told me to have a nice flight.

FREEDOM!!

I snatched that piece of paper so fast, and took off like a run away slave towards Kanata!

NOTE: When I got to Van I looked at my original flight. It still hadn't left, and was scheduled to arrive at 3AM the following morning.

Ya see what ones inner drama queen can do.

Shame Free,
Felicien-Navidad