I’ve talked before about how I hate, well, a variety of different things. (Various of my friends and acquaintances have commented that I hate everything. It’s not their fault — I’ve given them good reason.) In the current context, though, I’m thinking of one particular piece of drivel where I ranted about hating airports. It’s not just airports that I hate — I have problems with their tenants. The carriers. You can probably infer that from the drivel I mentioned.
In that drivel I mentioned that Our Carrier did things — apparently deliberately — in such a way as to practically guarantee that the flight would be late and that we (the cattle) would spend a maximal amount of time queued and stressed. While I can applaud the amount of planning necessary to achieve multiple goals simultaneously, I can also condemn the goals and why they’re chosen. Not that I know why they’re chosen.
Last weekend a friend (LM from ‘Wedding‘) was flying into town on the same carrier. (Aside: I deliberately haven’t mentioned the carrier’s name. It’s not because it’s a secret — it would be trivial to figure out, after all. No, it’s more because the various issues are almost certainly common to all airlines, so there’s no real point in picking on just one. I think.)
Where was I? Oh yah, flying in from Vancouver on a Saturday morning, arriving at around 0930. Or so the schedule said. It didn’t happen quite according to plan.
When we arrived at the airport — I hadn’t even put the exorbitant amount of cash in the Infernal Parking Machine yet — when my phone shrieked at me. Apparently, The Carrier had ordered them off the plane so they were still on the ground in Toronto. (They had been on the plane when the Surprise Party department showed up and shouted “Surprise! Back to the sterile and depressing departure lounge with you!”) 0930 wouldn’t be happening, so it was back home to shovel snow (it’s winter in Canada — when isn’t there snow to shovel?).
After that there was more shrieking — The Carrier had them back on the
plane so it was time to head back to the airport. This Time For Sure and all that.
That time, though, since the shovelling had been done, we did another iconic Canadian activity — a walk in the snow. Even though we’re not public figures. And, as luck would have it, there’s an excellent venue for such things not far from the airport.
It was nice. I mean, it was coldish and slippery (new snow over ice) but still nice. I can sort of understand why a walk in the snow is iconic, even if you don’t hold public office. I didn’t have a camera with me (just a phone) but there’s a sample to the right.
The runners and dog walkers were out in force. One dog walker in particular was having problems with her canine. While we watched she snarled at it in some frustration “Stop screwing around!”. I suspect it didn’t understand.
The birds were hungry, the chickadees in particular. They’re also, not tame exactly, but not particularly afraid of people (chickadees are often like that) and… not afraid to make their needs known. More than once one would sit a few feet away and shriek his displeasure that we hadn’t brought snacks. Snacks? Further on someone had brushed the snow from a table and deposited some, resulting in a feeding frenzy. Inevitably, the damned birds wouldn’t hold still for a picture.
Eventually (about two hours late) The Carrier got their plane to town. Maybe there’s a silver lining to Carriers being inefficient and late.
Then again, we didn’t have to cool our heels waiting. So to speak.