Homing In: Everyday Magic, Day 680

downsized_0224131357aHoning and homing in are easily confused, but I recently learned that knives are honed and birds home in on where they’re heading. Definitely not the sharpest knife in or out of the drawer today, I homed in on my travel becoming a farce because farces, despite and because of everything that goes wrong, end well with marriage, homecoming and great joy in the land.

The world of travel farce is narrow and treacherous. What wouldn’t shake me much in ordinary life level me here. My burrowing animal keeps ramming itself against the rock, convinced more effort will open the rabbit hole to home. Last night, a dropped call to United, after 45 minutes of waiting for a representative and another 20 of trying to sort out the tangle of getting my Delta ticket, originally a United ticket, back to United, tipped off a long crying jag (which led to me calling Ken and asking him to take off calling the airlines to arrange for my two flights, starting at 6 a.m.). Two hours later, when Ken called on one phone while talking with Delta on the other to make sure I was cool with a direct, non-stop flight at the reasonable hour of 11 a.m., I started crying so hard I could barely say, “Yes!” as in “Yes, Fredrico, a million times yes. I will marry you!”downsized_0224131444a

Back home this afternoon, I told Ken how I tried to think of the travel challenges as akin to an intensive spiritual retreat focused on letting go. “How did you do with that?” Ken asked. “Not very well,” I told him.

Yet there were moments of almost grace when I relinquished control, particularly when parked on the tarmac in Hartford, CT in a very small plane, completely full, for three and a half hours. I was on the phone for an hour with the airline, the aisles full with a snaking line of people waiting for the bathroom. People’s butts occasionally hit my head as I said to the United rep, “Could you say that again? I couldn’t hear you.” When I hung up, I surrendered to what the women around me were saying, which included repetitions and variations of:

  • There’s nothing we do, so why worry about it?
  • It is what it is.
  • It’s better to be sitting here alive than dead.
  • Yeah, this is challenging, but we’ve got it better than a lot of people in this world.
  • And you know, if I miss my connection, it’s not the end of the world.
  • I just missed my connection, but what you gonna do?

In communal travel mishaps, people tend to take turns being the cheerful one and the freaking out one. As soon as I told people my story (up until that point), the main cheerleader among us got a little depressed, and I repeated to her some of what she said to us earlier.

Soon the pilot announced that we were ready for take-off, back for a third try to land at La Guardia, but now we had to wait until someone could drain the overflowing toilet to prevent its contents from rushing down the aisles. The whole plane laughed together, and laughed some more when we needed to get de-iced again. Right before take-off for real, the pilot said, “Ladies and Gentlement, federal regulations stipulate that we inform you that if anyone wants to get off the plane at this airport, we can let you off.” The whole plane laughed harder, then we all looked around, as if to say, “No one is leaving this plane, sucker, so stay put.”

We were homing in together, and although I did start crying so hard at La Guardia at the information desk that a young Indian man came up to ask if he could help, I was grateful for help whenever I needed it.

Travel farce turns on plans dissolving, missed connections, the kindness of strangers, taking walks down streets in cities you never expected to visit, shuttle downsized_0224131446bdrivers talking about the last big snow, tiny bags of mini-pretzels that taste remarkably good when you miss a meal, and letting go of expectations right at the point of them being met (or not). When the plane I boarded today, the seventh plane I was booked on (and only the second flight I made), the pilot announced there was a small issue to resolve before take-off. I asked the flight attendant if she thought we going to actually go, and then told her my story. Although I wished I carried around some Valium, I was glad I at least had a story.

Then of course the story took off, and from the air, the world shone with snow, roads and rivers all the way to Kansas.

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