When in Doubt, Blame the Airlines
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Yesterday was my father's birthday. Happy Birthday Dad! He was supposed to fly into New York today for work, and I had a celebratory dinner planned, because, as I surely don't need to explain to you, there's no better way to celebrate your own birthday than taking your daughter out to dinner! (To quote him: "Maybe you can have some champagne to celebrate my birthday!") But he missed his flight.
I can't tell you how wildly uncharacteristic this is of him. This is a man who is punctual to fault, who once was twenty minutes late to meet me and I panicked, convinced something was seriously wrong. This is a man who will stand at the bottom of the stairs as my mom and I are getting ready for dinner or some time-oriented activity and say, "LADIES! Five minute warning! We are going to be LATE!" So you can imagine my shock when he called to tell me he wasn't on the flight and wouldn't land until midnight, so dinner was off.
After he told the news, I paused for a beat, and then said, "I don't understand, HOW did you miss you flight?" There had to be a story there, and I was going to get it. Well, the story is that they are now closing flights FORTY minutes before they leave, and he arrived in the 30-40 minute window. Which, I have to say, is also wildly uncharacteristic of him--but then again, it was an early morning flight, so I guess it's understandable. But it set my dad off. Where, he wanted to know, were the announcements? The policy has always been THIRTY minutes! He's a fantastic guy, but these are precisely the things that get him really riled up, and I send vibes of apology to whatever check-in clerk had to bear the brunt of his aggravation. But anyway--word to the wise, you all. FORTY minutes, not thirty. Don't be playing it "loose and fast" because apparently they've cut 11% of their flights and this is how it's going to be. The cost of fuel is changing everything. This is precisely why you need to book your flights to Michigan right away. There aren't going to be any seats! It's going to be a nightmare. If you want to go anywhere this summer, you had better make those plans now.
Couldn't... stop... the rant. Sorry about that. Apparently I need to book my flights for July NOW or I will not be able to get there, people. I will be going nowhere because there will be no seats and have I mentioned? It's going to be a nightmare from here on out. (He really hates the airlines and takes every opportunity to complain and declare some sort of apolcalyptic event that is completely their fault.)
Other than that, though, he's just a sweet, funny man, and a fabulous dad. He's the type of guy who, when I'm cutting something up in the kitchen, will stop and show me the proper way to chop that onion, and always let me "paint" the meat on the grill, and used to "gun it" when going up hill in his car when I was little, just because it made me laugh. He's the type of dad who, when you call him to ask which 401K to contribute too, will give you a very well-thought-through answer including the most boring (but useful) breakdown of all the types of funds and what risks go with each one. Who will sit you down when you're having a rough go of it, and will tell you a story from his life that's really analagous, and show you that even though whatever it is you're going through sucks, there's a lesson in it, and good will come of it, and then he'll give you a big bear hug and fix your favorite dinner. Who, when you get busted in high school for beer, and are forced to tell him all about it after he returns from a fishing trip, will react this way:
Mom: Miss Peach, don't you have something to tell your father?
Me: Um, yeah. Um, well, so, see, we were at a party on Friday night, and um, well, erm, Tom offered to go to the store? Because he was going to get beer? And it was the last day of exams? And so he was already going to get some beer? So we, um, Kathleen and I, we, um, yeah, well, we asked him to get us a six-pack of Bud Light? And, um, well, I guess his ID wasn't great? Because, well, he got arrested?
Dad: Yikes. Is he okay?
Me: Yes.
Mom: His mother is very angry and called here twice.
(Very audible, shaky, freaked-out sigh, excapes my lips.)
Dad: Well, what the hell does she want from us? Her son had the ID! It's not like Miss Peach forced him to go in there and use a fake ID to buy alcohol underage! He already had the ID. Clearly this wasn't the first time he used it.
Mom: I know, it's a little ridiculous.
(My palms are sweating.)
Dad: Well, Miss Peach, we do need to discuss this.
Me: Yeah. (My knees are shaking.)
Dad: You and Kathleen were going to drink a whole six-pack?
Me: Well, I mean, maybe, I mean, I don't know, we just gave him that number. I mean, we didn't want a twelve-pack!
Dad: OK. And you chose to get BUD LIGHT?
(My mouth opens, and I realize I have no idea how to respond to this.)
Dad: I mean, if you're going to go to all that trouble, you should really at least go for Miller Lite. But BUD LIGHT! Miss Peach, it's really not worth it.
(My mouth is still open, and I can't figure out how to respond.)
Mom: Charlie!
Dad: Well, it's the truth. (Shaking head and walking away) Bud Light!
I can't tell you how wildly uncharacteristic this is of him. This is a man who is punctual to fault, who once was twenty minutes late to meet me and I panicked, convinced something was seriously wrong. This is a man who will stand at the bottom of the stairs as my mom and I are getting ready for dinner or some time-oriented activity and say, "LADIES! Five minute warning! We are going to be LATE!" So you can imagine my shock when he called to tell me he wasn't on the flight and wouldn't land until midnight, so dinner was off.
After he told the news, I paused for a beat, and then said, "I don't understand, HOW did you miss you flight?" There had to be a story there, and I was going to get it. Well, the story is that they are now closing flights FORTY minutes before they leave, and he arrived in the 30-40 minute window. Which, I have to say, is also wildly uncharacteristic of him--but then again, it was an early morning flight, so I guess it's understandable. But it set my dad off. Where, he wanted to know, were the announcements? The policy has always been THIRTY minutes! He's a fantastic guy, but these are precisely the things that get him really riled up, and I send vibes of apology to whatever check-in clerk had to bear the brunt of his aggravation. But anyway--word to the wise, you all. FORTY minutes, not thirty. Don't be playing it "loose and fast" because apparently they've cut 11% of their flights and this is how it's going to be. The cost of fuel is changing everything. This is precisely why you need to book your flights to Michigan right away. There aren't going to be any seats! It's going to be a nightmare. If you want to go anywhere this summer, you had better make those plans now.
Couldn't... stop... the rant. Sorry about that. Apparently I need to book my flights for July NOW or I will not be able to get there, people. I will be going nowhere because there will be no seats and have I mentioned? It's going to be a nightmare from here on out. (He really hates the airlines and takes every opportunity to complain and declare some sort of apolcalyptic event that is completely their fault.)
Other than that, though, he's just a sweet, funny man, and a fabulous dad. He's the type of guy who, when I'm cutting something up in the kitchen, will stop and show me the proper way to chop that onion, and always let me "paint" the meat on the grill, and used to "gun it" when going up hill in his car when I was little, just because it made me laugh. He's the type of dad who, when you call him to ask which 401K to contribute too, will give you a very well-thought-through answer including the most boring (but useful) breakdown of all the types of funds and what risks go with each one. Who will sit you down when you're having a rough go of it, and will tell you a story from his life that's really analagous, and show you that even though whatever it is you're going through sucks, there's a lesson in it, and good will come of it, and then he'll give you a big bear hug and fix your favorite dinner. Who, when you get busted in high school for beer, and are forced to tell him all about it after he returns from a fishing trip, will react this way:
Mom: Miss Peach, don't you have something to tell your father?
Me: Um, yeah. Um, well, so, see, we were at a party on Friday night, and um, well, erm, Tom offered to go to the store? Because he was going to get beer? And it was the last day of exams? And so he was already going to get some beer? So we, um, Kathleen and I, we, um, yeah, well, we asked him to get us a six-pack of Bud Light? And, um, well, I guess his ID wasn't great? Because, well, he got arrested?
Dad: Yikes. Is he okay?
Me: Yes.
Mom: His mother is very angry and called here twice.
(Very audible, shaky, freaked-out sigh, excapes my lips.)
Dad: Well, what the hell does she want from us? Her son had the ID! It's not like Miss Peach forced him to go in there and use a fake ID to buy alcohol underage! He already had the ID. Clearly this wasn't the first time he used it.
Mom: I know, it's a little ridiculous.
(My palms are sweating.)
Dad: Well, Miss Peach, we do need to discuss this.
Me: Yeah. (My knees are shaking.)
Dad: You and Kathleen were going to drink a whole six-pack?
Me: Well, I mean, maybe, I mean, I don't know, we just gave him that number. I mean, we didn't want a twelve-pack!
Dad: OK. And you chose to get BUD LIGHT?
(My mouth opens, and I realize I have no idea how to respond to this.)
Dad: I mean, if you're going to go to all that trouble, you should really at least go for Miller Lite. But BUD LIGHT! Miss Peach, it's really not worth it.
(My mouth is still open, and I can't figure out how to respond.)
Mom: Charlie!
Dad: Well, it's the truth. (Shaking head and walking away) Bud Light!
This entry was posted
on Sunday, April 23, 2006 at 11:13 AM.
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