I stared helplessly at my watch (again), as if hoping that my glower would amass the power needed to intimidate time into moving backwards, or, at least, stand still.  It was going to be more than close – at the rate with which the pilot was leisurely circling the airport, it was going to be a downright miracle. 

Weather had delayed our departure from Dallas, giving me ample time to unwind from the morning’s inter-state mad-dash (which had somehow been well-orchestrated enough to put my arrival in Dallas at an obscenely early hour). The unforeseen delay, however, was now poised to severely mar my chances of successfully making a twenty-five minute connection time, and I sat restlessly in my center seat, desperately trying to salvage my plan. 

I hadn’t spoken to any other passenger during the flight.  A subtly-dressed woman in her early thirties sat in the aisle seat next to me, quietly reading her magazines with headphones on. At one point during the flight, she had looked over and kindly offered an ear bud from her MP3 player. Smiling, I had graciously declined, somewhat surprised by the gesture.  Reflecting on her generosity, I tapped her arm to get her attention. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quietly, “but I’m supposed to make a connection that leaves in twenty minutes.  Do you mind if, when we land, I get out ahead of you?” 

The woman looked down at her watch, out the window, and stiffened up. 

“Let’s switch now,” she suggested, “that way you can high-tail it out of here.  That’s gonna be a tough one!”  

I could have thrown my arms around this stranger in appreciation for helping me as we quickly switched seats, leaving me in the aisle seat, with one foot in the aisle, ready to go.  The other passengers at the front of the plane, noticing the 30,000-foot game of musical chairs taking place, soon grew curious until my kind savior spoke up. 

“Twenty-minute connection,” she stated grimly, with obvious sympathy in her voice.  Those around us, having remained relatively quiet during the duration of the flight, were now suddenly keyed up as a cycle of watch-checking and window-scoping unfolded.   

“What the hell is he doing?” one passenger asked, noting the lack of weather in our arrival city.   

“He’s just circling the runway,” another noted with slight disbelief.  There were no obvious reasons why our pilot would not be attempting a landing – no air traffic, no weather; no signs at all of why we were not on the ground. 

The chatter at the front of the plane grew louder as I found myself with a loyal, yet frustrated, gang of supporters, all of whom were focused on my connection time.  As my own tension quickly infected those around me, an overwhelming sense of annoyance spread through the cabin. 

“Just land the god-damned plane already!” an unknown male voice shouted. 

“She’s only got fifteen minutes!” a woman exclaimed. 

Within a few minutes, apprehensive sighs of approval swept through the cabin as the pilot finally began the descent into Dulles.  The slight jolt of the plane as the wheels touched pavement had never been as welcoming as the dozen-or-so passengers around me quizzed me on the details of my connection.  As soon as the captain gave the go-ahead for mobile phone usage, about ten people, myself included, frantically whipped out cell phones and Blackberries. 

“Who’s got a Travelocity number for me?” I shouted, desperately trying to connect to my email and frantic for information.  There was a strange quiet in the cabin as passengers everywhere dutifully searched their mobile internet devices for some tiny scrap of contact information.  All at once, voices shouted numbers at me until we had finished taxiing to the gate.  I had only ten minutes left. 

“I’ve got it!” someone shouted, yelling out the number to me from two rows over.  The crowd tensely waited as I desperately tried to get someone on the phone. 

Before I could get a voice, the cabin door opened, and the crowd of passengers parted like the Dead Sea, all but personally escorting me out ahead of them.  As I hurriedly dashed for the door, I turned briefly, throwing a hand up in the air. 

“Thank you!” I yelled, to no one in particular, and rushed down the jet bridge with shouts of encouragement following in my wake.

Tweet This Post Stumble This Post

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.