I am a firm believer that you can find humor in any situation.  In order to maintain this philosophy, one must have the ability to laugh at themself.

I travelled to a conference Friday that was located on the east coast.  Obviously, this entailed me being two hours ahead of my hometown time.  I had to leave for the airport at around 0330 hours in order to make my departing flight on time.  At that time of the morning, if you even think about waking up a rooster the entire yard bird family will conspire against you.  I promise, if you wake him up, he will convince his hens to lay eggs that will be served to you runny for the rest of your life, regardless of how many attempts are taken to burn them to a crisp.

I was obviously pretty tired by the end of the day.  I got in around 1700 on Friday and took in the sights of the beach and Atlantic Ocean.  Around 2100 hours, I called home to talk to my two children and awesome wife.  After about a 15-minute phone call, I turned in for the night.

One of the things I noticed about aging is that eventually you turn into an older model car.  Older model cars need some additional TLC, such as extra armor all to get that shine, or even a fuel stabilizer or other additives to keep the engine running smooth.  If you haven’t figured it out, I am talking about the need for medications.  Just like everyone else, I always felt that I was a finely tuned machine.  Go ahead and eat that triple cheeseburger; I don’t need to exercise today, I got tomorrow and the rest of my life; those extra pounds ain’t gonna hurt, I still look good.  I have to take medications now due to my laziness and overall lack of care for my health in my early years.  A creature of habit, I take these medications at each night.  So I don’t forget (call it prevention of dementia) to take my medications, I have an alarm set on my phone that goes off as a reminder.  I unfortunately lack the internal alarm clock that makes me get up at the same time every day.  I love to sleep.

Being worried that I was not going to get up on time to present my lectures and meet the conference staff, I set several alarms spaced five minutes apart.  I don’t trust wake up calls.  My alarm went off and I promptly got up when the first one hit.  I go through my morning routine, showering, shaving, and having that one-cup of caffeinated coffee that I now limit myself to.  I get prepped and dressed, make sure I have all of my speaking gear ready, and head downstairs.

When I get to the lobby and start heading to the attached convention center, the lobby is completely empty.  Not a soul.  Like I had stepped into a warped post-zombie apocalypse world.  I figured I could survive and encounter as I had my hard plastic room key that could cut warm butter and, as my wife calls it, my man purse I could hit them with.  After running through several scenarios in my head, I looked out the windows to survey they lay of the land.  Wow, that’s new.  I have never seen tinted windows in a hotel.  Wait, they are not tinted.

A quick look at my watch revealed that it was 10:30 p.m.!

Remember how I set an alarm for my medications?  I had previously taken my meds but failed to disable the alarm.  In my sleep-induced stupor, I fell into being a creature of habit, a slave to the alarm clock.

Obviously, there not being anyone around to see me dressed in business attire ready to go to work, I slunk back to the elevator and to my room.  Now what to do, I went through my morning wake up routine, including that stinking cup of caffeine go juice.  Needless to say, the rest of the night was restless.

It’s funny how conditioned we become.  We truly are creatures of habit.  Wait…is that a ringing bell.  Why  am I salivating?

For the first time ever, last night I had a glint of concern regarding the ability to get back home.  Today, I was supposed to fly back from the Connecticut EMS Conference.  Like any good slave to the airline, I was trying to avoid using the kiosks at the terminal or having to bother a gate agent to get the boarding passes.  Basically, I was going to check in on line and print them out. 

I sit down in the business center of the hotel, log into the airline website and proceed to check in.  However, I get an error message saying they can’t find my reservation and I need to go to the airport to get it taken care of.  Hmmm?  Whats up with that.  Isn’t if funny how we have become dependent on the computer and the internet.  I called the assistance hotline and it advised me I had a forty minute wait time.  That’s not gonna happen.  I decided to wait until around 10 pm, think it may be less busy.  This time, it didn’t give a wait time.  It just said to make sure I had food and water available and to watch for signs of malnutrition.  Forget it.   I will just be patient and wait until I get there in the morning.

I get to the airport and of course, to ease congestion I get directed to a kiosk.  Same thing happens, SEE A GATE AGENT.

This is where I met a really nice airline employee.  She was very helpful.  Seriously.  

Turns out, for some unknown reason my reservation for the flight home was cancelled.  I could have gone into a panic or thrown a tantrum that would make an Adderall taking, red bull drinking 5 year look like an angel, but I employed that same old tried and true tactic of charm.  It worked.  Not only did I get on my original flights, but on the long leg I got a free upgrade to 1st class.  I played down my excitement since I didn’t want to spoil the moment.  I sincerely thanked her.  She told me that when I got into Cleveland, see the gate agent and she would get me the rest of my boarding passes.

Pretty cool.  Being nice paid off.  I was just talking to my wife the other day and said that one day I would get upgraded for free.  I just knew it.  Fly like royalty.  People waiting on you hand and foot.  The American flying dream, lap of luxury, all that other rabble.

I learned something today.  Don’t count those eggs before they hatch and Jagger was right, you don’t always get what you want.

I got into Cleveland and went to the gate.  Gate agent was friendly enough.  I was given my First Class boarding pass.  I HAVE THE GOLDEN TICKET!.  I’M GOING TO HOLLYWOOD!.  The gate attendant then told me I was at the wrong gate for the flight.  No big deal.  Where is my pimped out gold plated first class airport golf cart to carry me to my gate, which was two gates down.  I am a first class passenger and shall not do anything to bruise my rich stuff tenderness.  (Side note:  Don’t ask for this.  They don’t exist.  All you get out of it is a strange look and a cry out for security).

I get to my new gate and looked down at what seat I got.  It said 26A.  No.  Someone has seriously messed up.  I am a first class passenger.  It is beneath me to fly 26 rows back in the plane with the common folk.  Us First Class folk have to maintain our appearances.  I cannot be seen in the same social circles, much less only have 4 inches of leg room.  

I inform the new gate attendant of this grievous error.  (Yes I was polite cause I did not want to mess up all the good fortune that I had been having).  I even managed to tone down the aristocratic tone of voice I had developed over the past few hours.  She of course had already asked for and acquired my ID.  She looked at my ticket and said “You sure don’t look like a Dawn”.  The ticket for 26A I had acquired was for another passenger.  Honestly, I don’t even look like an ugly woman.  Big mistake was made.  I did breath a sigh of relief though cause I thought the dream was still within a mere football field distance.  The gate attendant and I both had a good laugh.

I could not help myself.  I did a rich, snobby, baritone I am better than you laugh.  Just for a second.  Wait....did something just slap me in the back of the head?  

As my new best friend at the airport looked at the flight list, she tells me that she does not see how they upgraded me to First Class because every seat was taken.  I wanted to fire back at her and tell her that well I know that, I am one of those passengers and of course the top .000035% of society is bestowed with the honor and privilege of flying in style.  It is a birthright after all.  But I refrained from that last comment.  That slap of fate or karma hurt.  Or it may have been a First Class passenger who could spot a royal alcove crasher.    

I did calmly and sweetly ask her if there were any seats at all.  She said yes.  However, I had a choice at this point.  I could go ahead and take a flight in 45 minutes to get me to Houston or wait to get on my original Houston bound flight.  I played it up and hid my disappointment.  “Ma’am, I really don’t mind doing what you would like me to do.  Just as long as I can get back home and it doesn’t make you job any harder or cause you any trouble.  After all, your job is hard enough and you have to work on a Sunday.”

She did let me know that on either flight, she only had middle seats available.  Not the best seat, but I played it up again.  “It doesn’t matter to me.  Just whatever is easier for you.”  She smiled and then gave me the last remaining ticket for an isle seat.

Not exactly first class, but at least I can stretch out my legs on a three hour flight.  I can see first class from my seat.  I don’t think I like those people up there.  They think they are better than us back in steerage and think they are special.

I may be what some call young, or what old timers in my neck of the woods call a “young’in”, but man has travel these days has change changed.  Our modern day society has become one of convenience and demand that they get their way.  It used to be so easy to travel to places.  And I am not just talking about the extra security.  I have no problems with that.  I am sure even back before I was born that individuals acted like the south end of a mule.  Despite medical advances, we have not been able to breed this particular trait out of the gene pool.  That and drama queens.  These idiots are the ones that make travel by air so difficult.

During the Ides of March (March 15 for those who have no sense of history), I had the honor and privilege of traveling to the state of Connecticut to present at their 2012 conference.  This obviously required air travel, as I would not want to take on a distance of this magnitude alone in a car (simply due to boredom and the fact I don’t have satellite radio in my truck).  Over the past year, our area and United Airlines gave into the demands of society and established air service out of Hobbs, NM.  This is pretty awesome because it only involves a 15 minute drive from my front door to the airport.  I flew out of this airport in February, and I must say, I grew intoxicated by the mere convenience of it.  

Anyway, my particular flight left at 6:45 am and connected in Houston.  From there, I would be on a 3.5 hour flight in a packed 767 to Newark then connect on a small plane for a quick hop to Hartford.  That morning, as I travelled to the airport, we experienced thick fog.  I mean really thick.  At the time, I did not think of this as an omen.  However, after checking in and avoiding a pat down at the TSA checkpoint, I waited to board my flight.  The terminal manager made an announcement that out outbound flight would be delayed thirty minutes to an hour because of the fog.  He mentioned that if anyone had a 10 am connecting flight in Houston to check with the gate agent to make other arrangements in case we didn’t get there on time.  Well, my next flight left Houston at 10:45.  In a selfless act of self preservation, I decided to see if our delay may cause a problem.  I happened to be the second person in line and waited patiently for my turn in the Q&A zone of the gate agent consultation.  

During my wait, I could not help but hear the very polite and friendly gate agent explain to the customer that he would wind up being placed on standby because there were no vacant seats on his particular connecting flights.  After flying several times over the past few years, I have made a few observations:

1. When airline customers travel plans are disrupted, the nastiest aspects of human behavior emerge, mimicking a cross between a silverback gorilla in heat and a rampaging rhino.  
2. Gate attendants have really no control over the booking and capacity on flight.
3. Gate attendants are powerful people.
4. Call it what is meant to be, the plan, or karma, but how you act and your actions themselves wind up paying you back tenfold, either positive or negative.

These simple observations provided me with an AHA moment.  Why not butter these people up, treat them with courtesy, and apologize to them (not sarcastically) for having such a stressful job.  These individual take berating and nastiness every day but do it with a smile. Toothpaste, mouthwash, and tequila can only take a little bit of the foul taste out of your mouth by having to be nice.  I have a lot of empathy for these people who act as the front lines of the travel industry.  After the way the previous customer treated the gate agent, I thought I was really going to have to work on this agent to get my travel taken care of.  

Fun fact.  Look at those name badges and use them.  Call them by their first name and introduce yourself by your first name.  Don’t immediately start complaining.  Find out their name and ask them how their day is going.  It totally disarms them.  

I did this and it seemed to ease that tension that was present.  I politely informed her that I did not know if there would be any problems with my 10:45 connection.  She told me she did not think so but went ahead and found me alternatives to get to Hartford.  She even went the extra mile and got me confirmed seats on other connections instead of putting me on a standby list.  She said that if we did get in late to Houston and I missed my connection, I just had to go to the other flights gate and I would get my new boarding passes.  If we did make it, the other reservations would go away.  I thought this was great.  Even though internally I was annoyed that I would be getting in five hours later than planned, problem was solved.  I was going to get there and not have to deal with the hit or miss practice of standby flying.

Hide your boarding passes when at airports and don’t speak about your flights unless you are in a secure area.  I have a theory that standby travelers stalk us and will take you out to get their way.  I mean, who doesn’t show up for their flight?  Just kidding.

By the way, we actually made it to Houston on time and I made my original flight to Newark.  

I did run into a snag that I believe affected my return trip, but more on this later.  When going through the line in Newark to get on my last leg into Hartford, the scanner made that uh-oh beep.  It wouldn’t take my ticket.  The gate agent tried to figure it out, but with the long line of passengers behind me he asked if I would mind waiting for a few minutes while he got the other passengers on board.  I graciously agreed to this, since my philosophy had worked previously.  When everyone else was on board, he did some research.  

Apparently, with the changes made at my original airport, and perhaps the merger of UA and Continental, my flight reservation from Newark to Hartford was cancelled.  Most people would have freaked out at this moment and unloaded.  I just gave him the surprised look and asked him what he suggested I do.  He seemed to be taken off guard, but then looked at me and said go ahead and get on board, there happens to be two extra seats.  On the inside I was doing the happy dance.  I just thanked him for helping me out, and most importantly thanked him for what he did.  Never know in the future where or when that will pay off.  

Boarded the plane and my original seat was occupied.  I informed the flight attendant and told her someone was sitting in my original seat but didn’t want to make her life harder and asked where she wanted me to sit.  She pointed out a seat and it was actually one of the premier seats with just a bit more leg room.  Awesome.  


It may be one of the hardest things to do, but being nice really pay off.  Killing them with kindness goes a long way and really helps to make things work out in the end.  It may taste bad, but eventually they will invent the “nuclear-blast-clean-out-every-type-of-germ-and-material in your mouth toothpaste.  When this happens, maybe all of the belligerent idiots in the world will disappear and flying will be a little easier.