Ambulance Driver Files A Day in the Life | Kelly Grayson
“I’m sorry Mr. Ambulance Driver, but the earliest flight to Manchester arrives tomorrow afternoon at 2:20 pm.”
The gate attendant tries to adopt a sympathetic expression. He fails miserably. You’d think that with years of experience at informing travelers that their plans have been interrupted due to the vagaries of weather, equipment malfunction or clerical error, that he’d have developed some skill.
Take me, for example. I deal with drug addicts, systems abusers and the pharmaceutically enhanced on a daily basis. Most of them annoy the hell out of me. But I make it a point to be courteous and professional, and to at least appear to care about their problems. Most of them never have a clue that I’m mentally strangling the life from their bodies while I smile ruefully and cluck sympathetically at their tales of woe. It’s called diplomacy.
But Julio the Continental Airlines attendant has no need to practice diplomacy, because he knows I am at his fucking mercy. If I want to get where I’m going, I have to play by his rules.
“Well, that’s not going to work, Julio,” I reply, struggling to hold my temper. I smile ruefully at him. She smiles back. I think my smile looks more sincere. “I have to be in northern New Hampshire by 7:00 am.”
Julio says nothing, just keeps the patently insincere smile fixed on his ugly mug and stares me down.
“Because I have to deliver a lecture at 8:00 am, you see. It’s really important.”
Still no reaction from Julio. I’m beginning to think his face may have frozen that way.
I try to adopt a pitiful look. It worked much better when I was four years old. “And I give another lecture after that. And the keynote speech the next day. A couple of thousand people are depending upon me. It’s really important, Julio.”
Okay, maybe only a couple hundred people. But still, I gotta get there. So please Julio, tell me which one of my kidneys I have to sell to get a damned flight to Manchester, New Hampshire. Purty please.
“I’m sorry, but the 2:20 pm arrival is the only flight we have going to Manchester in the next 24 hours, Sir. I’m afraid the weather has delayed everything.”
“No, the Goddamned weather has not delayed everything, Julio!” I snarl. “In my case, the Goddamned plane was delayed for an hour on the tarmac so two of your fucking crew members could deadhead to Houston. I missed my connecting flight by seven fucking minutes, and that Nazi of a gate agent refused to open the jet way to let me board, EVEN THOUGH THE PLANE WAS STILL SITTING AT THE GATE! So you get to be the unfortunate fucker to suffer my wrath today, Julio, and suffer you will if you don’t find me a flight to New Hampshire tonight!”
Well, there goes diplomacy.
To his credit, Julio didn’t even blink. Smile didn’t even waver. If anything, he might have looked a little less sympathetic, but definitely not intimidated or angry.
Damn, but this little guy is good. I’m gonna have to work on my Intimidating Look. Maybe make my eyes bug out and add a little flying spittle next time.
“Mr. Ambulance Driver, my computer says your flight from Big City was delayed because of a flight safety issue. There was a weight imbalance that –“
“Weight imbalance my ass! We sat on the tarmac for over an hour, with nary a soul working around that airplane, and then two of your boys climbed on board, strapped themselves in the jump seats and we took off not two minutes later. The only weight imbalance was that you were light two fucking crew members who can’t read a watch!
“- had to be resolved before the plane could safely take off,” Julio continues, unperturbed. “Continental Airlines apologizes for the interruption in your travel plans, but your safety is our primary concern. If you’d like, we can arrange for overnight lodging at a local hotel and book you on tomorrow afternoon’s flight to Manchester.”
“And you’re going to pay for this hotel room, right?”
“Actually, no. But we do offer a 15% distressed traveler’s discount at several of the local hotels.”
“You know what? You can kiss my ass, Julio. Type some instructions into that little keyboard you have there and find me a flight to Manchester on any airline in the next twelve hours. I don’t care if it’s a Cessna 182 followed by a five-hour oxcart trip to the hotel, get me to Manchester on anything but Continental Airlines. Now.”
Julio heaves out a put-upon sigh, types an inquiry into the computer and waits. An eternity later, he looks up at me with a spiteful grin. “Actually Mr. Ambulance Driver, it would seem that our flight to Manchester tomorrow afternoon is the only flight on any airline in the next twenty-four hours. I’m so sorry if this disrupts your plans.”
Suppressing the urge to whimper, I prop my elbows on the counter and place my head in my hands. “Okay Julio, I surrender,” I sigh. “Book me on tomorrow’s flight and set me up with a hotel room for tonight.”
Julio sets about making the arrangements, unctuously hands me my boarding passes and sends my on my way, a forlorn traveler stranded overnight in the wilds of Houston, Texas. I wander down the concourse, find a barbecue place and order a large platter of ribs and four beers.
“Four beers, Sir?” the waitress asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yep, four beers,” I confirm. “I plan to drink them all right now, and I don’t fancy having to stand in line again or flag you down to order more.” She walks off in a huff. I flip open my cell phone and dial my publisher.
“Hey Boss? Bad news. Missed my connection in Houston, and they tell me the earliest flight to Manchester arrives at 2:20 tomorrow.”
“Shit,” sez The Publisher. “No flights on any airline?”
“Nary a one,” I confirm. “The best idea I can come up with is to call the conference committee and see if they can juggle the schedule. Can you call ‘em for me?”
“I’ll get right on it, but in the meantime why don’t you see if you can get a flight to any city on the eastern seaboard? Check flights into Boston, Concord and Burlington and Portland. If you can get into any of those, we’ll get you the rest of the way to Bartlett.”
I’d really rather not, Boss. That would mean dealing with my good friend Julio once again, and I’m probably on his Shit List right now.
“Sure, I can do that,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I’ll call you back in half an hour.” I finish my ribs, swill the last of my beer and gird myself for the next encounter with Julio. I stop at a kiosk and buy some breath mints before I sidle back up to the Continental counter. Julio fixes me with a gimlet eye as I ooze up to his desk.
“Hola, Julio mi amigo,” I say, puckering up to kiss some serious ass. “I was wondering if you might do me an itty bitty favor…”
“What?” he says tiredly.
“Um, is there any chance you might be able to find me a flight into maybe say…Boston? Or Burlington would be good. Even Concord or Portland would work. Um…that is, if you could. If it’s not too much trouble. Please?”
Julio sighs mightily, types an inquiry into the computer and in a few moments gives me the good news. “There’s a flight into Boston tonight that arrives at midnight Eastern time. They have one seat left, and it boards in forty minutes.”
“That’s my seat!” I exult. “Book it for me, would you please?” Julio types in more commands, makes a phone call and within five minutes, I have my boarding passes in hand. As I turn to go, another thought occurs to me. “Uh, Julio? What chance is there that my luggage can make it to Boston on the same flight?”
“Somewhere between slim and none, but you can have it couriered to your final destination tomorrow afternoon. Will there be anything else?”
“No, that should do it,” I say, ashamed of how I spoke to him earlier. “Look, I…I wanted to say I’m sorry for the – “
“Not necessary, Mr. Ambulance Driver,” Julio assures me, with a genuine smile this time. “I’m just glad we were able to get you to your conference on time. And Mr. AD? Love your shirt.”
I look down at my shirt in surprise, and blush like a tomato. The entire time I’ve been behaving like an ass toward Julio Castaneda, customer service representative for Continental Airlines, I’ve been wearing a tee shirt that says: