Snakes on the Plane
I am somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean as I’m writing this. The Flight Tracker says we are still three hours out of Barcelona and will be landing about an hour later than scheduled. It was an interesting boarding procedure at Delta JFK. To begin with, our flight from San Diego arrived on time at Terminal Two and our Barcelona flight was scheduled to depart from Terminal Four. I’ve been flying in and out of JFK for over fifty years, so I am no stranger to the place. I know exactly where Terminal Two and Four are. In fact, when we landed we went to a set of rest rooms where I could recall once having to change clothes in back about twenty-five years ago when I had forgotten my passport at home and went to Hell and back retrieving it in the heat of a summer evening, rendering my shirt soaking wet with sweat. From there we had to board a special shuttle to get to Terminal Four. Rather than take us on the normal JFK loop road, this shuttle took us across the tarmac and deposited us right into the terminal such that we didn’t have to go through security again. I had never seen that trick and it was actually quite convenient. We still had time until our flight, so we decided to spend it in the Delta Sky Club since we were traveling First Class. That was our first mistake.
I don’t know whether its a post-COVID thing or a JFK thing or just a modern times thing that I am not use to since I don’t travel like I used to, but as we approached the Club entrance we were advised that there was a line (which happened to be about a block long) to get into the Club. So much for that idea. Later on we heard a story that the special Commander’s Club for Platinum AMEX members was the way to go, except that even that had a fifteen minute wait. I can’t say that I’ve ever encountered that problem before. I have used lots of airport lounges over the years, but I often pass them by in favor of sitting out in the open at the gate, no matter how long the wait. It’s less about the egalitarianism of the act (though that is also a part of it) and more about keeping my options open…in the open of the terminal.
So, we found a place for dinner and took our time, lingering over the typical airport pub food. About an hour before our posted flight boarding time we took up position at seats across from the scheduled gate only to be surprised how long it took for the flight to Amsterdam that was taking off from there ahead of our flight to clear. When it finally did clear, there was a problem with the digital screen that usually announces the location of the next flight so we just stood at the gate with uncertainty with other people who were also unclear if this was the place for the Barcelona flight. There were no chairs for anyone, so we all just stood there somewhere in between trying not to lose our place in “line” for boarding and not be obstructionist assholes to people wanting to talk to the gate agents (something we all wanted to do, but knew would do nothing for us). Naturally, when they finally started to board the flight after telling us our plane had arrived late from wherever, the line of “passengers needing assistance” who wanted to board early had the normal array of valid and invalid reasons and due to the crowded conditions, they took down the tape barriers and pandemonium ensued. Once we finally got through the facial recognition at the gate (there’s another new one on me) we went down the normal set of ramps until we came to a dead stop in the final enclosed boarding ramp to the plane. It was clear than none of the passengers (disabled and pretenders alike) had been able to board either. We literally stood there in the ramp waiting for 40 minutes while the catering crew loaded the meals on the place. That was certainly a new one for me.
When that was finished, we finally got on the plane and to our seats, but then we had to sit on the tarmac for an hour waiting for our delayed turn to take off. At least, as annoying as that might have been, that was the first “normal” thing that had happened to us at JFK. So far, the rest of the flight has been just fine and as best I can tell, there are no more hidden snakes on this plane to worry about.
I don’t know what portion of my current travel experience amazement is due to our absence from the traveling world due to COVID, my heading off into the land of nod (a.k.a. Retirement) or just the fact that the world is changing. There is no doubt that airports have become very different places where the fullest and hippest array of commerce and hospitality is on offer and on display. A very neat new thing we discovered while waiting for our flight at JFK was a set of eyeglass car wash machines. Sounds stupid, right? Well, it’s not. Someone has created a six foot high, eighteen inch diameter cylinder with a glass-covered receptacle where one can choose to place either one’s eyeglasses or one’s jewelry for a three minute auto washing and drying. For five bucks per go, Kim and I washed our glasses (I put my Persol Steve McQueen sunglasses) and then my Breitling watch and our respective wedding rings. I am forever wanting to get those things cleaned and this seemed like a very good use of downtime at the airport and a few bucks.
I remember a friend of ours ten years ago telling me that she thought it would be a great business to put a massage spa in airports and I thought it was a crazy idea. That shows you how much I know. The massage spa at JFK was doing a booming business as it does wherever and whenever I see one in an airport. I suspect it was one of the better business models set up in airports over the last decade. Can eyeglass car washes be the next big airport success? Having paid $6 for a luggage cart at San Diego airport (something European airports like Barcelona provide for free…as they should), there are lots of revenue streams available in airports, even if some are very viper-like.
All this pondering of airport life has gotten me two hours closer to my next airport visit in Barcelona (with the help of the original Top Gun movie on Delta’s excellent array of movies. On what must be a nice fifteen-inch swivel display screen in each Business Class lie-flat seat configuration. The part of that movie I haven’t appreciated as much as I do now is the way its set in San Diego near the Miramar Naval Air Base. I’ve even learned where the Kelly McGillis beach house is located in Oceanside. I’m not sure what its used for now other than as an attraction, but they keep a copy of the Tom Cruise Ninja out in front just to make you think he’s inside having dinner with McGillis, all sweated up after his famous beach volleyball scene.
Now I have to prepare myself for two weeks of flying a little lower through the Pyrenees and along the Camino de Santiago. I’m hoping there won’t be any snakes on those plains.