Flight Time

I’m a compassionate guy. A caring person. Perhaps even sensitive. Okay, not sensitive but definitely compassionate. I said a prayer when I heard that someone on my flight from Seattle to New York was ill and we needed to make an emergency medical landing in Minneapolis. And when the EMTs arrived and wheeled her off the plane I gave her a surreptitious blessing as she went past my seat. She looked like she would be fine — I think it was a diabetic issue with her blood-sugar level.

But boy did she wreak havoc on my travel plans. After landing, the good folks at American Airlines (they had a rough week didn’t they?) detected a maintenance issue with the plane. Shocking. Which led to an unplanned four-hour layover in Minneapolis while they flew in the part from Chicago.

There’s nothing like 13 hours of travel culminating in a late-night arrival at JFK to prepare you for the 8 o’clock service the next morning. You try saying things like “rendering unto Thee most hearty thanks for the innumberable benefits procured unto us by the same” while you’re mind’s still in another time zone.  

I also discovered something else about myself. When the flight attendants made the announcement calling for any passengers with medical expertise I realized I was utterly useless. Unless they needed someone to pronounce last rites. 

 



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