|
From this place to that place When Minutes Matter, Technology Is ThereBy Rick Horowitz
They're toying with me. It's a simple matter of getting from Point A to Point C -- Point A being a brief business trip out of town, and Point C being home sweet home. There is, of course, the small matter of changing planes at Point B. No big deal. And besides, I've got technology on my side. Technology is how I know, for instance, not to rush out to Point A Regional Airport once I've finished my business; my handy-dandy cell phone is flashing with a flight-status alert: The flight from Point A to Point B is running nearly an hour late. That could make the plane change at Point B International Airport a bit tight, but if I'm lucky, and if the two gates are close together... So I kill a little time; technology lets me jump on the Internet to catch up on my e-mail. Nothing critical -- unless multiple opportunities for enlarged organs and improved sexual performance count as critical -- but it's so comforting to be able to check, just in case. Eventually, a colleague drives me to the airport and helps me drag my baggage to the terminal door. (My rolling bag isn't rolling so well; its convenient and technologically advanced telescoping handle inconveniently snapped off just yesterday.) Not to worry, though; technology will allow me to check my bags at curbside. Except that curbside isn't having any of it. The very moment my colleague pulls away from the curb, the curbside checkers check their computer and tell me my flight from Point A to Point B is running late enough that I probably won't make my connection at all. They tell me I have to see an agent at the check-in counter. I'm standing in line at check-in now, and a line monitor tells me I can save time by picking up one of the nearby "direct assistance" phones and dealing directly with someone sitting in an office somewhere else. I do it, and the woman at the other end of the line is perfectly helpful and perfectly nice, even as she's confirming the bad news. My flight from Point A to Point B is now scheduled to arrive at 8:55 p.m. My flight from Point B to Point C is scheduled to depart at 8:54. Her computer is spinning out the various options -- technology in the service of mankind once again -- and before you can say "seat backs and tray tables in their full upright and locked positions," she's got me rebooked on a morning flight from Point B to Point C, and she's even arranged for a free night's stay at a hotel near Point B International. I'm as grateful as I can be, and I take my new information to the check-in counter, where -- this is positively miraculous! -- my new boarding pass and luggage doodads have already been printed out. I hand over my rolling bag, which still isn't rolling, and another, even heavier bag, which would normally be perched right on top of the rolling bag. The agent tells me I'll have to reclaim the bags in Atlanta. "How will I get them all to the hotel?" I ask him. "There's a shuttle bus," he tells me. "But how will I get them all to the shuttle bus?" I'm on my own. I have another question for him. Since the reason for the delay is bad weather at Point B, isn't it possible that my flight out of Point B will also be delayed, which will let me catch it after all? Possible, yes. Even likely, he concedes. But he has to go with what's on his computer, and as of this minute, his computer is telling him the flight from Point B to Point C is still on time, at 8:54. So I give up my seat on the 8:54, and grab my boarding pass for the morning flight. I make my way through security, and to my gate; they're boarding even later than they thought they would. I know this by looking at my watch, and because my handy-dandy cell phone is flashing with yet another flight-status alert. But what about the second flight? Not a word. I ask the gate agent for an update; his computer is still showing the 8:54 departure. But he books me back onto the 8:54 anyway, too. If we happen to get there in time, he says, I've got that one. If not, I've still got my seat on the morning flight. He can do that. Technology is amazing. We're finally on board, and the pilot is telling us about our 40 minute flight time while I wrestle with the math. The next time he comes on, he says 38 minutes, and I allow myself a glimmer of hope. The next time he comes on, he says 48 minutes. (They're definitely toying with me.) Now the cabin doors are locked, and the use of cell phones is strictly prohibited; I'll have no information about the 8:54 until I land at Point B some random number of minutes from now. I'm pretty much resigned to missing it. At last we arrive, and we're allowed to use cell phones again. Technology is tremendous: I've got two new flight-status alerts. The first one says the 8:54 has been delayed to 9:00. The second one says the 8:54 has been delayed again, to 9:10. I have a chance! We're pulling up to Gate B-30 now. It's 8:55. The 8:54-turned-9:10 leaves from Gate B-17, just down the hall! (I definitely have a chance!) The crew asks the passengers who don't have tight connections to stay in their seats, and astonishingly, some people actually listen. Now I've got my carry-on bag out of the overhead compartment, and I'm standing in the aisle, ready to make my dash, just waiting for the cabin door to open. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. The pilot comes back on. "Folks, they're, uh, having some trouble getting the Jetway up to the door. They should have it taken care of in just a few minutes." Missed it by that much. Isn't technology wonderful? Posted 8/10/05. Don't
be late for laughs -- get award-winning commentary from syndicated columnist
Rick Horowitz!
|
  |
Rick Horowitz
