Travel

Waiting for Godot…or Delta

The British mystery writer Dick Francis has died. I liked his crisp, descriptive writing and thank him for introducing me, along with many other Americans, I suspect, to the sport of steeplechasing. His obit in the New York Times recounts his own early career as a jockey. He rode a dozen races with a broken arm and won two of them.

There was another obit in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution over the weekend that was both difficult to read and impossible to ignore. Diane Caves worked for the Centers for Disease Control and went to Haiti three weeks before the earthquake. Here is one sentence from writer Mark Davis’s poignant piece about her life and work:

“Diane Caves of Atlanta, a policy analyst with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, was killed in the Jan. 12 earthquake in Haiti. This past Tuesday, nearly a month later, searchers found her body in the ruins of the hotel where she was staying. She traveled as much as she could. She laughed loud and often. She was 31.”

Moving from those sublime lives to the ridiculous, word comes over the weekend that two former politicians who ought to be retired for life – former Ohio Congressman Jim Traficant and former Providence Mayor Buddy Cianci – are positioning to attempt the post-prison comeback. Just what the U.S. Congress needs, an election Salon calls “the year of the crook.” At least those guys will have the most interesting hairstyles in the House. Meanwhile, good guys like Senators Evan Bayh and Judd Gregg are hanging it up. Not a good development for the Republic.

A lot of time to catch up on, and reflect upon, the news this weekend as Delta Airlines continues to recover in the American southeast from a “crippling” one inch snowstorm on Friday. Today is the day, I’m assured, when all returns to “normal.” I have faith.

Still, I couldn’t help reflect while, waiting for Delta, on Samuel Beckett’s absurdist play where two characters wait for that fellow Godot, who never shows up. At one point, Beckett has one of his characters proclaim: “I don’t seem to be able… (long hesitation) to depart.”

I know the feeling. But, today is the day when all returns to “normal.” I just know it.

Changing Planes on the Way to…

There’s an old story that if you’re headed for hell you’re going to have to change planes in Atlanta. True, except when its snowing. When that happens you can’t get there from here.

Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson Airport claims to be the “world’s busiest” and, in the main, it seems a remarkably well run place. Vast, imposing, but well planned and operated, that is until the rare inch or two of snow arrives in north Georgia. Apparently snow was on the ground in 49 states on Friday. Only Hawaii was the holdout, but unfortunately I wasn’t headed in that direction.

A little bit of the white stuff, about the amount that would barely freshen up a ski slope in the northwest, virtually shut down ATL on Friday. Sitting around considering your fate during a “weather delay” provides LOTS of time to consider the human condition. Mostly that condition can be humorous, even amid a thousand cancelled flights. OK, so you have to look for the humor.

A Scotsman in the bar, awaiting his flight to Amsterdam and on to Glasgow – my guess, he’s still waiting – asked a young woman on a nearby stool if anyone had ever told her she looked like the actress Salma Hayak. She wisely didn’t respond. She also didn’t look like Salma Hayak.

During a stop at one of those typical airport shops – one of those places that carries watches, jewelry, etc. – a woman enters talking on her cell: “I’ve found something cheap,” she says, “I think this is what I’m looking for – cheap.” The salesperson glances over a with a smile and mouths under her breath, “cheap, not in this place.”

I’ve long ago quit checking luggage on any flight. I’m a straight on, carry on kind of guy. I figure given all the things that can – and often do – go wrong with air travel, why not eliminate at least one complication. I never check. The folks who did check on Friday wished they hadn’t. One guy sees my rolling bag and asks how I’d managed to retrieve it in and around all the delayed and cancelled flights. He looked absolutely envious when I told him. Maybe I should have offered him a clean pair of socks.

I saw most of the world in Atlanta on Friday. Most folks were pretty well mannered, a little stressed, tired and confused, but rolling with the travel punches. There was lots to see in Atlanta on Friday, but no Salma Hayak sitings – darn. Bet she doesn’t check either.