A Prima Donna in Queeens
|
Not long ago, I was forced to spend the night with a total stranger in Queens. During this experience, I learned that people, when stranded in a far-away lands, tend to show their true nature and that, sometimes, one's true nature is best kept hidden. When my airport-beaten ears heard that my last chance to fly out of New York was cancelled, as were the previous flights I'd been trying to catch since morning, I began to look at the cold hard plastic chairs and wonder if one of them was to be my bed for the night. It would have been preferable to continuing to listen to the woman next to me complain, as she'd been doing for some seven hours. Shari. A name I shan't forget, nor will I allow any of my grandchildren to be named. I'd begun chatting with Shari, a seemingly nice fellow Dallasite, earlier that afternoon under a dome of purple skies at LaGuardia airport, as we were both to be on the 2:50 flight. Jokingly, we voiced our mutual hopes to get home to our kids "sometime today!" I'd been on a business trip, and Shari had spent the weekend shopping in Manhattan with her gal pals. All had gone their separate ways now, and Shari had several shopping bags to show for her weekend. I had one suitcase on wheels and told Shari, as we sat leg to leg in those tiny plastic chairs, how I never checked my luggage, nor did I like to carry a lot of luggage. Shari, on the other hand, in addition to her shopping bags, was lugging with her a large bulky suitcase. She'd apparently carried it on and then off a plane earlier that day when her flight, unfortunately for me, had not taken off after three hours of sitting on the tarmac. Shari droned on, as did the hours. She complained loudly about the stormy day's canceled flights and waved her obnoxiously big diamond ring around saying, "My husband is a lawyer!" I just kind of smiled and nodded at her woes. Often I would close my eyes but, sadly, when I opened them Shari was still there bleating her complaints. "I am never flying this airline again. I better get a free trip out of this!" There was nowhere to go to escape this woman, as all the chairs at the gate were taken. At 8:00 PM, a way overdue jet crawled to a park at the gate. People cheered. Then, it released a shaken group of ashened-faced passengers who'd obviously had a scary flight. Our cheers faded as we watched them walk by us one by one, shaking their hatless heads saying, "You don't want to go up there tonight! Trust us!" Doomed as I felt, another traveler caught my attention from across the room -- a wordless woman with tears filling her eyes, and no wonder: The poor dear was traveling with two small children, one of them waving an empty bottle around crying miserably, the other with a running nose, also bawling. The weary woman hung her head sadly. A mother myself; my heart just broke for her. I thought, amid Shari's pointless complaining (as if the airline could control the weather), that if I did have some kind of "magic ticket" back to Dallas I'd have GIVEN it to the baby-burdened woman. Shari's whining was really boring into my nerve endings now. I tried being disinterested, hoping to discourage her, but she had attached herself to me, like a boil. Our very last chance to get out of New York was on the 9:50 PM flight but I'd already called my family -- again -- and told them it didn't look good. As predicted, at 9:30 PM the worn-out gate attendant announced that the plane we were all looking at outside the glass would indeed NOT be taking off; this flight was cancelled due to pilots in overtime. Everyone groaned and the crowed swelled with anxiety. The gate attendant gripped the counter as Shari sprang up and with her jeweled hands on her hip and shrieked "Uh-huh!! No way! I demand a free ticket! I want a free trip!" Of course there were other upset folks; one man who'd been waiting in the Admiral's club all day gave a derogatory hand signal to the tattered gate attendant and ambled back to the bar; another woman openly wept as her first grader slept at her feet, but heard and seen above it all was Shari who had, for some reason, taken a liking to me. She turned to me after her outburst and said, "Welp. Looks like we're stuck together. Can you believe these people? This airline is gonna hear from my husband!" I'd spent too much money on this trip and had $6.00 left to my name. My credit cards were maxed, so I could not even entertain the idea of a hotel. The battered attendant now stood like a wilted cherry atop a line of stranded passengers, which snaked all the way to the bank of payphones, also jammed with stranded travelers, some throwing their hands in the air in desperation. I took a deep breath, reminded myself I wasn't the only one, that all these folks had families too, then told myself anything was better than flying in storms with sleepy pilots at the controls, so instead of trying to get to the payphones, I smiled with defeat, took a deep breath and walked to the front of the line, trying to think positive. "Will you be putting people up this evening?" I asked as sweetly as I could muster. Shari was posed next to me, hand on hip, saying, "Yeah, you better be because my husband is a lawyer!" The gate attendant was not amused and looked at us together. I spoke up, saying, "We are not together. I just met her today." I gave Shari a scowl that clearly said -- I hoped -- "Shut up!" It was too late. The attendant's mood wasn't good, as she'd been obviously dealing with people like Shari all day. She was not concerned with customer care at this juncture. She snapped, "If you'll allow me to answer her question, lady. We will be giving vouchers to all who do not make it on the next flight!" I remained calm and pleasant, while painfully recalling that I didn't even have any clean underwear, since I'd already stayed an extra day in the city. "Uh, ma'am? When IS the next flight?" "6:00 AM. We are ticketing now, but you'll have to get in line, lady. You can't stand there." The attendant was curt and obviously worn-out.
I understood she had no control over the weather, but I looked at the line behind me, did some quick math, and I knew I'd never get a ticket for the 6:00 AM. I looked at her, smiled, and said, "Please?" Just then, a man pushed his way in front of me, waving his American Airlines Advantage Card and saying in a very businesslike tone, "Young woman, I have to get home tonight! I give this airline a lot of business. Now, please, get a pilot and --" The flight attendant was on the brink. "Sir, I don't care what you are a member of, no one is getting on that plane!" She pointed to the dark night outside the window where a stationary jet was parked-til-morning at the gate, and three tired pilots were finally de-boarding, loosening their ties and shaking their heads. I couldn't believe what happened next: Shari approached the droopy pilots, who had been taking special weather routes all day, topping out their allotted flying hours. "You people need to manage your time better! I have to get home to my kids. Can't you call one of your friends to fly that plane? Another pilot? Surely there are other pilots!" I ran to the end of the growing line as Shari left my side to approach the pilots; I ducked, and prayed she'd find a new "friend." Several minutes later, I was about sixth in line and people seemed to be getting tickets quickly! I had accepted the fact I'd be sleeping in a chair. Just then, Shari re-appeared, nudging her way in line next to me, telling the passenger behind me, "I'm with her!"
His tired elderly face clearly said, "How dare you!?" but he did not speak. Exhausted, I looked at my feet and wished I had some ruby slippers I could click together three times and be back in Dallas. As much as I loved New York, I did not want to be in the city one minute longer. Outside, lightning cracked and thunder boomed. The babies across the room howled. "Help me get the rest of my shopping bags!" Shari blurted desperately, pulling me out of thought and out of line. For some reason, I helped her. The man, whom she'd cut in front of, darted forward and stood before the counter, getting the very last ticket. He turned to us, and winked as the attendant shut down sales for that flight. I had two of Shari's shopping bags in my hands and had left my one suitcase standing in line to hold my place." Looking at it, I said "Noh!" almost crying. Then came the shrill, irritated voice of the gate attendant as she fought passengers off with one hand and pushed the microphone to her face with the other:
"May I have your attention please? The 6:50 AM flight to Dallas is sold out. We will begin ticketing for the next flight out tomorrow, which is at 2:50 PM." ...the one I was supposed to have been on today, I thought! No underwear! No money! No way! This had to be a freaking dream!
I closed my eyes in a grimace as the PA squeaked into silence. But no, I opened my watery eyes and Shari was still there, arm on my shoulder, leaning on me as though I were an old pal, "I don't know about you, girl, but I'm getting a free trip out of this."
There were about twenty-five of us left at the gate, everyone drained and looking at the attendant. Shari cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered toward the attendant, "Which hotel are you sending us to, because I know I ain't payin' for it!" I walked away from Shari and sat next to a gray-haired man who seemed to be taking everything in stride. As it turned out, he had come to New York to teach a seminar on Positive Thinking. We laughed at the irony. Until... There she came toward us. I told the man "Here comes your prize pupil!" He looked at me, perplexed. "Well, it looks like we are sharing a room." Shari announced. "What?" I asked, mortified. "They are pairing people up, and those other girls are together." "No," I finally said strongly. "I do not want to share." The man looked at me as I raised my voice, as though I needed calming, and I repeated to him, my voice strained, shrugging tiredly, "I won't! I don't want to share!" Of course that wasn't positive thinking, but it was midnight and I didn't care anymore. I approached the gate attendant and said, in my Southern-est sweetest persuasive voice, "I really don't want to get stuck with that lady," pointing with my eyes to Shari, who was making a speech to the Positive Thinking instructor. I could hear her from where I stood. "My husband is a lawyer. I swear, wait till he hears about this!" The gate attendant rolled her eyes at me and asked me to step back. Boldly, she straightened her sky-blue skirt, emerged from behind the desk and began to speak in a voice that commanded our attention:
"I have here 12 vouchers. You are paired two to a room." Her thick New York accent poked through with a final "Ya lose ya voucha yawr on yawr own!" Everyone lined up in pairs, and I wished I was spending the night with the Positive Thinking guy, who was traveling alone. At least I would have gotten some sleep, and some positive reinforcement. We were given one voucher for a cab, one for the hotel, and one 20.00 voucher for breakfast at the hotel the next morning. I grabbed the vouchers and stuck them all in my bra, thinking, "This witch is waving diamonds everywhere; if I ditch her in the city or at the cabstand, she will survive on jewelry sales alone." I, on the other hand, wouldn't -- not with six bucks, two maxed out credit cards and no underwear. My deodorant was also failing me, and the small hole in my hose had turned into a gaping canyon of open air at the top of my right thigh. Walking just plain hurt as we lugged all her bags down the corridor outside toward our waiting cab. As I rolled my suitcase and carried two of Shari's shopping bags, she stopped at the escalator and announced, "We have to go down here first." "Why?" I asked. "To get my luggage." "Oh. My. Gahd." I mumbled and followed, as I had no choice. I had the vouchers and it was a well-lit area. I couldn't have ditched the bitch and gotten away with it, though the thought did dance through my mind. As she picked up her suit bag, Shari glowered and screeched, "Uh, excuse me, sir, this is torn! Your airline tore my suit bag!" "Shari, we have to get a cab. Forget the suit bag," I said with pain in my voice. "No way! They are gonna buy me a new suit bag, or I'll sue them!" The bag attendant politely looked at the suit bag and the handle was hanging by a thin thread. "Ma'am, I can box it for you," he said kindly. "This is a very expensive bag! It was not like that today when we boarded the plane, which never took off by the way!" "I'm sorry ma'am, let me box it for you..." Weighted down with Shari's suitcases, shopping bags, and very cumbersome boxed suit bag, we finally managed to get to the cabstand.
Together in the backseat with my suitcase, which wouldn't fit in the trunk with all Shari's stuff, we took off into the night, back into the city to which I had said farewell many, many hours before. I thought about my kids going to bed alone and I wondered who would be able to come and get me the next day -- if the next day came at all. I wondered where we would end up, and I asked the driver where we were going, but the he had obviously had a bad night and I could not hear what he mumbled. I tried to think positively, and prayed there were two beds wherever we were going. I rolled down my window and let the city air rush through my ears as Shari finally closed her eyes, and her ever-complaining mouth. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at a Holiday Inn. All I wanted to do was check in and go to sleep. It was nearly 1:30 AM. But noooooh, we had to unload the 6 shopping bags, her boxed suit bag, plus two huge suitcases of hers from the trunk, and then we had to wait for a doorman to assist us. Had it just been me with my one little suitcase, I'd have been long gone. Standing there, I suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for this woman's family, whoever they were. They were in luck, for Shari would not be home tonight. "I need a dolly. Don't they have a bellman waiting!? What kind of place is this? Where are we? You mean to tell me there is NO bellman?" "I'm going to go ahead and get in line," I said tiredly, and left Shari in the dark parking lot, hoping it was a high-crime area. When I walked into the lobby, I was jolted alert by at least two hundred stranded passengers, from other airlines I supposed, all fatigued, some fuming, and right in the middle of it all was the gray-haired Positive Thinking instructor, smiling, saying, "Oh, you made it! Where is your friend?" "She isn't my friend!" I said setting down my one little bag on wheels and looking at my watch. "I'd rather be in your room!" I managed a delirious, maniacal laugh. Boy, did I get a strange look from the man, but it was quickly overtaken by that positive smile and he nodded, like perhaps he could be talked into it. I couldn't believe what I had just said, began to laugh and explained tiredly, "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. He offered me some coffee, and we tried to find some peace amid the insanity, until... Along came Shari and the poor bellman she'd captured; his cap was tipped sideways from the late wind and the physical effort it took to load everything. He parked the luggage cart nearby and Shari just walked away from him. No tip, and not even a thank you. As she approached us I whispered to the man, "I'm serious, here is a candidate for one of your seminars."
"My gosh what are these lines for? I am not gonna wait here. I will get a manager!" When we finally got up to the front desk, I handed the sweaty voucher I'd been guarding with my life (and other parts of my body!) to the desk clerk. She said robotically, "All we have is smoking." "I don't care," I answered. "Well I do!" Shari blurted. "Where is your manager? First this long line and now this? No! I will not sleep in a smoking room." I thought... Here we go! The front desk clerk looked at me, eyebrows arched. "I've never seen her before in my life," I mused, one hand raised in mimic oath. I put my head down on the desk while Shari insisted on waiting for a manager. Other guests were picking up their room keys and the lobby was thinning out. After the smoking room ordeal was settled and the haggard manager had appeased Shari, we spilled into a stale musty room that was so hot I felt immediately as though I was going to pass out. I tipped the bellman two dollars, leaving me with four dollars left total. What city was I in? I didn't even know. "I can't believe they tried to put us in a smoking room!" Shari complained as she turned on the television. I ignored her and went to get some ice. I wanted water. I'd spent nearly $16.00 on bottled water at the airport and was excited to get some free now. When I came back to the room, Shari had her stuff reloaded onto a cart, and that same poor bellman was back, looking at me helplessly. "What is going on?" I inquired, anger slipping into my voice. It was nearly 2:00 AM. My one bag was parked at the foot of the bed next to the air conditioner and I looked at that bed longingly, somehow knowing I was not destined to sleep there, as Shari had apparently found something wrong with the room. "They tried to slip one over on us! This room smells like smoke!! Smell it!!" She breathed in so hard her thick nostrils stuck to the ridge of her pointy nose. I was beginning to dislike this woman intently and was appalled at her total non-concern for the fact that we were only two out of hundreds stranded. "This room is fine with me. I'm staying." I plopped down on the bed and took off my shoes, exposing my aching swollen feet and my holey hose. My big toe had achieved freedom from the confines of nylon. "Can't I stay here?" I looked at the bellman, who shrugged his shoulders. "Please?" I couldn't believe I was begging. "Please let me stay here. Take her wherever she wants to go, but please let me stay here!" There was only silence and we all stared at my exposed toe. "I'm staying." I lay down decidedly, in front of them both. "Our voucher is for two people!" Shari demanded. "Uh, well ma'am if you are being put up by the airlines, and we got a lot of those folks tonight, you need to abide by your voucher." I got up, scowled at Shari and followed them in my bare feet down the hall, thinking terrible things, my ingrown toenail throbbing with every step I took. The new room seemed to fit Miss Shari's liking and she, again, did not tip the bellman before shooing him away as though he were a giant housefly in her face. I gave him $2.00, leaving me with $2.00. I smiled at him apologetically as he gave a dirty look to Shari. I did not want him to think all Dallasites were snobs. As Shari plopped on the new bed and turned on the television, she said, "I can't believe they tried to give me a smoking room." I didn't say anything but, the way I saw it, there were hundreds of stranded passengers just looking for a bed, and the fact that she was concerned about residual smoke just amazed me. I. Hated. Her.
I knew that now. But I was trying to think positive. I was happy to have a bed. Where was I? I wasn't sure. I got into bed in my dirty clothes, and slipped off everything but my shirt by tossing them out from under the covers. Then, I walked passed Shari into the bathroom where I washed a pair of underwear with hotel shampoo and then slung them over the towel rack to dry. By 2:30 AM, Shari was still watching television, getting up now and then to bang on the set, which didn't get a good picture. All I wanted was sweet blessed sleep. Just sleep. Please, go to sleep, you complaining little witch! Behind my closed eyes and with a pillow over my ears, I couldn't believe the next thing I heard. It was urgent pushing of the buttons on our phone. "Yeah, this is room 203. We really need another TV up here." I felt my eye begin to twitch and my neck broke out in welts as I said, "Shari, why can't we just get some sleep? I mean -- we have to check out at noon and go back to the airport!!" "NOON?! I am not leaving at noon. It's only a 30-minute ride and if they think I am checking out at noon they are crazy. I am sleeping in." I turned on the air conditioner, announced quietly that I was leaving at noon and she could either be there to use her half of the voucher or pay her own fare back to the LaGuardia. With that, she became quiet at last. Finally, the lights were out and we both were asleep in our separate beds. Just the drone of the air conditioner and a few distant sirens were the only sounds of the pre-dawn hours. Until... "Hey Stasey, will you turn off that air conditioner! It's cold in here!" A few hours later, I woke up in a pool of my own sweat, got my bag, stepped over Shari's stuff which was strewn everywhere, put on my damp underwear and left to find breakfast, food voucher in hand. Lo and behold as soon as I got my coffee, I saw the gray-haired Positive Thinking gentleman again. "How did you sleep?" he asked me, refreshed and clean-shaven. I let my face answer and he smiled even bigger, commending me for not pushing Shari out the window. As I ate, there she came, hair all askew. She had found me. I didn't even say good morning. I just looked at her. Shari ordered her food, complained about the food, and then called the manager to the table. "We have a voucher for $20.00 but we only used $15.00. We'd like the rest back in cash." The manager was very nice as he explained that vouchers are not exchangeable for cash. I was appalled, packed, and ready to ditch the bitch for good here and now. I went to make a phone call and noticed a phone book. It was Queens! I didn't even know what town I was in with my two dollars to my name. Heck, I laughed, I was not even worth mugging. The cab voucher had a number on it to call, so I called, bleary-eyed and not rested in the least. It was 10:30 AM. Shari ran out of the restaurant and found me. "What are you doing?" She threw her hands in the air. "Calling a cab. What are you doing?" I was through being nice and had moved to my sarcastic mode. "It's not even 11:00!" "Yes, I know. You better get your stuff from the room if you want your free cab ride." I went out front in the cab lane, and Shari flew up the stairs to the room. As I sat and looked about at my strange surroundings, I let the breeze lift my air and meditated for a few minutes, until... "Can you believe I had to wait almost 10 minutes for a bellman?" Shari plopped down next to me, with another recently abused bellman in tow. She made it just as the cab pulled up. Darn! I fully intended to leave her there if she didn't make it. Again, we heaved all her stuff in the trunk, the suitcases, the boxed suit bag, the six shopping bags, and of course my bag had to ride in the seat with us since there was no more room left in the trunk. Shari complained all the way to airport that it was too early, that we were going to have to "sit in the airport forever." As soon as we pulled up to the terminal, I hopped out, pulling my suitcase out behind me. It hit the ground rolling, as did I. After tipping the cabdriver two bucks, leaving me with no money at all, I ran to the gate two hours early.
Behind, I could hear her Shari yelling, "Uh! Hey! Thanks for helping me with my bags!" I knew I'd see her at the gate later but I didn't care. The fact that we were both Dallasites and stranded in strange city meant nothing to me. The bitch was on her own. At the gate, the cheerful attendant, whose obvious good night's rest I envied, asked, "Do you have a preference on seating?" "No," I said. I took my boarding pass and sat down in that ever-so-familiar LaGuardia plastic chair. A few minutes later, I heard a recognizably irking voice at the gate attendant's desk bleating, "You don't have a bulkhead seat? I get sick if I don't have a bulkhead seat. But whatever you do, please don't put me in an exit row!" I turned and, of course, it was Shari at the desk, holding up the line, not a care for any other passengers. The attendant was shaking her head. Shari would have no bulkhead seat. Na na na na na nah! Man, I needed some sleep. I was actually grinning at her stress. As we boarded the plane and I looked at my seat number, I realized ... I HAD A BULKHEAD SEAT! I sat down and just waited for Shari to pass, ashamed of myself for knowing I'd be happy for her to see me there, laughing to myself almost like Renfield. At last, she passed by me, shaking her head and mumbling about how she was sure there would not find any overhead bins for her stuff. She saw me and said, "How'd you get that bulkhead? Did you ask for that? Do you have an Advantage card?" "No, they just gave it to me!" I said, smiling, stretching out comfortably. "You are holding up the line, my dear. Move along, will you?" As she passed by, I shamelessly hoped she'd end up in an exit row, that her packages would get squashed and that her precious suit bag would get shipped to Arabia. At last we were in the air... Ahhhh. The stewardess came by taking drink orders. I said, "I'd like a double Jack and Coke, and I know you aren't going to charge me for it." "Why wouldn't I charge you?" she said jokingly, looked rested and fresh. "Because I just spent the night in Queens with a total prima donna." "Really, who?" "Oh, I'm sure you will run into her today. She is on this flight." "Were you one of the stranded passengers from last night?" She looked suitably sympathetic, and amused. I nodded with my last ounce of communicative energy. She handed me four bottles of Jack Daniels and a can of coke and said, "Let me know if you need more." An hour later, enough time for me to have consumed two drinks, the attendants were pushing the meal carts down the isle. I was starving. Something really smelled heavenly. It smelled like melted cheese, or pizza, something. I didn't care what it was. I had to have it. "Turkey and cheese calzone or Chef Salad?" the flight attendant asked, joyfully. I opted for the calzone and nodded a thank you as I tapped my glass and asked for more ice and another can of Coke, stretching out my legs in my lovely bulkhead seat on my way back to Dallas, at last. The skies were blue and clear and I was thankful. About 12 minutes later, I heard that horrid, shrieking voice -- Shari's -- "I can't eat this! I am allergic to cheese!" "What do you mean you can't make me one without cheese!? I want to see your manager please." With that, I drifted off to sleep.
 | ||||||||
