Perfect days are a rarity, but Friday in New York City was certainly one of them. We logged more than 10 miles on foot traipsing about Greenwich Village, discovering the haunts and eateries that make it such a magical place, and spent a night with our favorite singer at one of the finest shows I’ve ever seen. We also had handfuls of dirt blown into our eyes by an apparent windstorm that arose following a stormy evening that barely allowed us to arrive. The flight before ours and both flights after ours were canceled, which did nothing to boost my confidence in the flight at hand.
The flight itself was bizarre. One woman was escorted off the plane – it was more like she “disappeared” – after they double sold her seat. People were crabby from delays, and the flight crew was less than communicative. But when they were communicating, they were brazen and surly.
We were warned that, while sitting on the runway, “Compliance is not an option people. If you fail to comply with our rules you will be dealt with upon arrival in New York.” Mind you, nobody told us to turn off our iPods and cell phones, but our failure to ascertain their commands via osmosis was not to be tolerated.
Upon landing, one of the flight attendants announced, “Welcome to New York La Guardia airport. If you look out your windows you will see that we weren’t lying to you people. The weather here is really bad.” Never had I been made to feel so grateful for paying a large transportation dividend. Pardon my French, but he was a total asshat.
Perhaps it was our eau de infertility mixed with an airline staff on a cruel streak, but regardless our seat companion was a woman with a baby. Daniel was his name, and he was taking his very first flight. His mom was a little overwhelmed and it wasn’t long before Daniel was climbing into our laps, staring into our eyes and bouncing on our legs. He was adorable, and I was having a great time playing with him. Constance was glowing as she cooed and bounced the young boy, and repeatedly helped his mom with an extra hand.
My natural inclination was to be more friendly, and I was more than happy to entertain Daniel when the turbulence tumbled. But this weekend was an escape from those thoughts, so I pulled out my copy of Beowulf and put my head down.
But you can’t escape things you love and want, and I guess I didn’t really want to anyway. After reading 15 pages I found my gaze shifting to Daniel who was sleeping on his mother. Watching him sleep was more entertaining than Beowulf anyway, so I closed my book and put my arm around Constance. We had plenty more of our weekend left to truly escape.
Filed under: Husband & Wife