As part of a longer certification process as a Coach, I had to attend a 3-day course in Providence – an hour’s flight north of New York. The course had one restriction: you couldn’t turn up more than an hour late – and there was no negotiating with them!
I had two stopovers – Heathrow and Newark – and I’d planned the trip to arrive the day before, in good time. I was about to learn otherwise. Because something sparks in me at the mere thought of nearing the promised land. There’s something going on between me and Manhattan.
The flight from Copenhagen reaches Heathrow on schedule on Wednesday evening. I have to change to British Airways, who give me 10 pounds for food, since Gate Gourmet – who handle the in-flight catering – are on strike. 10 pounds doesn’t go far in an airport, but fair enough. Soon I’m sitting on the plane, ready for departure, when the speaker crackles: “This is your captain speaking…”. The pushback tug meant to move the plane off the gate still hasn’t arrived.
This is your captain speaking…
The captain expects a 15-minute delay and apologises. But a quarter of an hour later he’s back: “This is your captain speaking…”. The tug still hasn’t arrived, but now it should be no more than another quarter of an hour. The captain apologises again.
The captain expects a 15-minute delay and apologises. But a quarter of an hour later he’s back: “This is your captain speaking…”. The tug still hasn’t arrived, but now it should be no more than another quarter of an hour. The captain apologises again.
A quarter of an hour later: “This is your captain speaking…” Now it turns out that all the ‘ground’ staff, the tug included, have walked out in sympathy with Gate Gourmet. They don’t think it’ll last long, though – the strike is unannounced, and therefore illegal. People get up, jackets come off, while others tuck into crisps and bags of sweets for the in-flight film.
Shades of the Titanic
One quarter-hour follows another, and now the hours crawl slowly but surely past. A lady from Business Class comes down to the rabble and plays a piece on her cello, which prompts an Englishman to exclaim: “This is just like Titanic!” After a couple of minutes of surreal classical concert, everything is back to how it was. Children hit sugar shock and turn into monsters, while flight attendants soothe with spring water and more films. Everyone is on edge.
One quarter-hour follows another, and now the hours crawl slowly but surely past. A lady from Business Class comes down to the rabble and plays a piece on her cello, which prompts an Englishman to exclaim: “This is just like Titanic!” After a couple of minutes of surreal classical concert, everything is back to how it was. Children hit sugar shock and turn into monsters, while flight attendants soothe with spring water and more films. Everyone is on edge.
And the wild hotel hunt begins!
Eight hours later. By now so much time has passed that the cabin crew can’t keep within their rest-period rules. Everyone is let out of the steel bird’s warm belly to join the other 3,000 passengers in the departure hall, all desperately hunting for somewhere to sleep. It’s midnight, and the strike has caught British Airways completely off guard. Nobody knows anything about anything – so the wild hotel hunt begins!
Eight hours later. By now so much time has passed that the cabin crew can’t keep within their rest-period rules. Everyone is let out of the steel bird’s warm belly to join the other 3,000 passengers in the departure hall, all desperately hunting for somewhere to sleep. It’s midnight, and the strike has caught British Airways completely off guard. Nobody knows anything about anything – so the wild hotel hunt begins!
First off the plane
The next morning, thank goodness, I’m on the first flight to Kennedy Airport. But I find it hard to enjoy the trip, because when we land I have exactly two hours to catch my next flight from Newark. “Impossible!” the cabin crew laugh at me, but they agree to let me off the plane first. I race through passport control in a miraculous 10 minutes and jump on an airport bus heading straight for Newark.
The next morning, thank goodness, I’m on the first flight to Kennedy Airport. But I find it hard to enjoy the trip, because when we land I have exactly two hours to catch my next flight from Newark. “Impossible!” the cabin crew laugh at me, but they agree to let me off the plane first. I race through passport control in a miraculous 10 minutes and jump on an airport bus heading straight for Newark.
Too close to the Manhattan skyline
Manhattan’s magnificent skyline comes into view. I’ve seen it before, two years ago on my way to a conference in Chicago. But hang on! Now it’s getting very close. So close that I ask the Chinese man beside me: “Excuse me! This bus doesn’t go into Manhattan, does it?” “Yes, yes!” the man cries with delight, taking another couple of photos just before we enter the tunnel that links the island to the mainland.
Manhattan’s magnificent skyline comes into view. I’ve seen it before, two years ago on my way to a conference in Chicago. But hang on! Now it’s getting very close. So close that I ask the Chinese man beside me: “Excuse me! This bus doesn’t go into Manhattan, does it?” “Yes, yes!” the man cries with delight, taking another couple of photos just before we enter the tunnel that links the island to the mainland.
Between the car noise and the roar of roadworks, the bus driver had apparently heard Newark as New York – and assumed I meant Manhattan.
My Chinese friend
What I think as I step off the bus and hear the man say “Have a nice stay!” is not fit to print here! The Friday traffic is at a complete standstill, and my last hope runs out when I finally reach Newark and see the long queues at the check-in desks.
What I think as I step off the bus and hear the man say “Have a nice stay!” is not fit to print here! The Friday traffic is at a complete standstill, and my last hope runs out when I finally reach Newark and see the long queues at the check-in desks.
I’m ready to go home
I do NOT make my flight to Providence, and I decide to head home. I walk over to the SAS ticket office and get rebooked. After 39 hours of adrenaline racing – of which I’ve managed to lie stretched out for all of 4 – I am exactly ready to go home. Direct. No stopovers. No fuss. Just home!
I do NOT make my flight to Providence, and I decide to head home. I walk over to the SAS ticket office and get rebooked. After 39 hours of adrenaline racing – of which I’ve managed to lie stretched out for all of 4 – I am exactly ready to go home. Direct. No stopovers. No fuss. Just home!
Déjà vu?
The funny thing is that the man at SAS who handles my rebooking is the same one who handled a similar rebooking for me two years ago. That was after the Chicago conference, where I’d planned a week’s holiday on Manhattan. Unfortunately, the person I was going to stay with wasn’t home when I called from the airport. My mobile had run flat, and my Visa card had hit some limit on purchases abroad. Too much air conditioning had made me ill, and my last dollars were running out.
The funny thing is that the man at SAS who handles my rebooking is the same one who handled a similar rebooking for me two years ago. That was after the Chicago conference, where I’d planned a week’s holiday on Manhattan. Unfortunately, the person I was going to stay with wasn’t home when I called from the airport. My mobile had run flat, and my Visa card had hit some limit on purchases abroad. Too much air conditioning had made me ill, and my last dollars were running out.
The SAS man didn’t remember me – but I remembered him.
You have GOT to be kidding me!
I can’t help wondering what it is with me and Manhattan. Something sparks whenever I near the promised land – but next time, nothing is going to stop me. Next time I’ll fly non-stop, in great health, pockets full of cash and plenty of contacts.
I can’t help wondering what it is with me and Manhattan. Something sparks whenever I near the promised land – but next time, nothing is going to stop me. Next time I’ll fly non-stop, in great health, pockets full of cash and plenty of contacts.
Next time, I’ll TAKE Manhattan!
/Martin
– Thank goodness it’s almost Monday!
– Thank goodness it’s almost Monday!
