Lary Bloom
Writer, Editor, Teacher
The Bloom Blog
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Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Lois
The airport in Chicago has produced a second angel. The first is Wilma (see previous post), the van driver. The second is Lois, an American Airlines employee who works the counter at O'Hare's gate 62.I met Wilma on Friday night, when travel to San Francisco required an unscheduled night in a Windy City motel. I had missed my connections because of weather delays. On the way back yesterday, the weather was no more cooperative. The gate agent in San Francisco offered regular updates to the crowd awaiting flight 1564 to Chicago (where I would make my connection to Hartford) -- beginning with the news that there would be a three hour delay. In the heirarchy of the world's troubles, such matters rank not even as a footnote. However, you know how it is. Travelers get itchy. And some get outraged. There's always a Shelly Winters (bless her soul) in the crowd who announces her indignance with impressive volume. But there are others who just shrug, and say, well, what are you gonna do?
The point is that a routine day of travel turned out to be anything but. By the time we took off -- nearly four hours after the appointed time -- I was certain I'd be running into Wilma again, and spend another night at the Worst Western. I remembered Chief Sitting Bull's three rules of living a good life: "Work by sun, sleep by moon, and no fly through Chicago." However, as we were landing at O'Hare a flight attendant announced connecting gates. The Hartford flight had been delayed three hours, and would leave at 11 p.m. (All this, dear reader, I know is tedious, but I'm getting to the point.)
I met Lois at gate 62. She'd had a long day and night, too. Everyone in the airline business had. Weary travelers, each with a story to tell, came up to her to find out why the Hartford flight had been delayed further. She smiled, and said, "Don't worry, we'll get you out of here." She exhanged my backrow seat for something more civilized. But that's not why she is an angel. In sprinting from one concourse to another, I picked up a sandwich and a bottle of water. After I got my new seat assignement, I sat down to eat my 11 p.m. "meal." But I could not open the water -- the plastic seal on it had me stumped. Aha, I thought. Lois can help. Indeed, she took pity on me, and, in an instant, she solved the problem with her delicate fingernails. "This stuff doesn't faze me -- I'm a mom, you know."
Posted by:Lary Bloom at 6:59 AM
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