"It's
All in the Music"
by
Mia Poole
mp565@barnard.edu
I
hope you miss your flight, hope you miss your flight.
-Kelis,
"In the Morning"
I
should have known better than to listen to a song with this line in it before
taking a flight at an ungodly hour of the morning. Yet I played "In the
Morning" by Kelis the night before my 7:20 a.m. flight from New York to
Detroit. So, at 10:24 a.m. on the day before Thanksgiving 2000, I awoke and
basked in the sunlight streaming through my window. Then I realized that I was
supposed to have awakened in the darkness of the wee morning hours. 10:24! My
flight had touched down at Detroit Metropolitan Airport more than an hour ago.
In a flurry I leapt out of my bed and began scouring the Net in search of the
phone number to Northwest Airlines, hoping there was a still a way for me to
escape the prison that my Barnard College dorm room had become. The Northwest
representative told me that I could still get out of New York by flying on
standby. After leaving a few frantic phone messages full of apologies and prayer
requests for family and friends, I set out on one of the longest days of my
life.
I
took the bus to LaGuardia Airport just as I had planned to the night before. I
used the forty-five minute ride to recover the composure I had lost in my abrupt
awakening. I meditated, envisioning myself in Detroit. I really needed to go
home, because I'd developed an allergy to the intensely hectic pace of life at
Barnard and in New York City. At that moment in time my sanity depended upon
spending my Thanksgiving holiday in Detroit. Passing one more day in New York
would surely push me over the edge. Each corner, crack, and crevice of the city
held another unfinished task, obligation, or frustration for me. I was not
exactly sure what standby was, but I did not care as long as it got me to
Detroit, my haven from all of the stresses of my life in New York.
The
representative who checked me in at the Northwest counter convinced me that I
had a good chance of getting on the 12:50 flight to Detroit. So I set off
towards my departure gate with my anxieties calmed, assured that I would escape
New York after all. However, as soon as I arrived at my gate my whole tune
changed. The area was crawling with holiday travelers like myself and was manned
by a few harried, impolite gate attendants. When I questioned the attendant at
my gate about standby procedure, she icily instructed me to wait for my name to
be called.
I
waited. I waited though first class boarding. I waited through preferred class
boarding. I waited through coach boarding. I waited through coach boarding. I
waited through coach boarding. Finally, she started calling standby names. I sat
on the edge of my seat straining to hear every name called. "Mia
Poole," the gate attendant whispered into the microphone as if she wanted
me to miss the flight. I scrambled up to the podium at the gate. As I was
pulling out my ID to verify that I was indeed the blessed Ms. Poole, a man
stepped up beside me.
"Did
someone page Marvin Johnson," he asked. The flight attendant responded that
yes, she had page him three times. Then she handed my boarding pass to
Mr. Johnson, informing me that he was ahead of me on the list and had just taken
the last seat on the flight. I watched, ID still in hand, as thief Marvin
Johnson boarded my flight home. "But she called my name," was all my
stunned mind could think.
Then
I came back to reality. Marvin Johnson or no Marvin Johnson, I was going to get
to Detroit that day. I asked to be placed on standby for the next flight to
Detroit and trooped over to my new gate to begin the process all over again. I
waited patiently through general boarding only to hear the gate attendant say,
"I'm sorry Flight 419 to Detroit is full, we will not be accommodating any
standby passengers on this flight." So, I shuffled up to the get podium and
placed myself on standby for the next Detroit flight I was starting to think
that this might be a long day.
An
hour and another round of boarding calls later, I was still stranded in New
York. I vowed not to leave LaGuardia unless I was on a flight to Detroit. I
returned to the gate podium to request standby for another flight to Detroit.
There the attendant informed me that a few of the Detroit flights had been
canceled, that the remaining flights were all oversold, and that the next flight
was at 7:50 p.m. It was 3:55 p.m.
For a
moment, I considered returning to my loathsome dorm room. I had not eaten all
day and the dining hall food that disgusted me the night before began to appeal
to my empty belly. Then I remembered my allergy. I had to go home. I asked to be
placed on standby anyway. The attendant advised me that I probably would not
make it out of New York that night, but I ignored her. I was going home whether
she and her cohorts wanted me to or not.
I
slunk back across the terminal and claimed a corner near my gate. I tried to
research for a paper that was due soon, but my hunger would not let me. So I
entered a monk-like state. I meditated and I fasted. I was determined not to eat
until I was in the Great Lakes state. Watching other travelers miss their
flights gave me hope that I could profit from the misfortune of someone like me,
but four hours was turning out to be longer than I recalled.
Finally,
I abandoned my corner for a bathroom break. On my way, I saw a man that
strikingly resembled one half of my favorite rap group, Outkast. I thought I was
succumbing to delirium. However, on my way back I saw the same guy joking with
the other half of the group and a very large bodyguard. I was not losing it
after all.
The
Outkast sighting as a sign from God. Music had gotten me into this mess and
music was going to get me out of it. My first celebrity sighting in New York had
occurred at this moment to show me that I my wish would be granted. It was
Divine Order.
Boarding
call for the 7:50 flight to Detroit finally rolled around. I was spent, but I
managed to scrounge up some more faith and endure another round of general
boarding. Finally, the gate attendant started to call names from the standby
list. "Say My Name" by Destiny's Child played on repeat in my mind's
CD player. And then he said it. He said my name! I scurried up to the gate
podium and shoved my ID in the guy's face, wary of any more Marvin Johnson
types. Then at last, the boarding pass was in my hands, and no one could take my
seat from me. I was really going home this time.
I
quickly tried to get a call through to my mom before boarding the flight, but I
was too excited for my fingers to dial properly. As I took my place in line with
the other nine standbys who had been rescued from LaGuardia, I cursed all of the
gate attendants who had discouraged me during the day and thanked Outkast for
choosing the 6:30 flight to Atlanta.
Relief
washed over me as my plane lifted off the ground. I cried tears of joy for the
first time in my life. Then I vowed never to listen to Kelis’ "In the
Morning" before a flight ever again.
BIO: Originally from Southfield, Michigan I am currently attending Barnard College in the City of New York. I am considering a career in journalism or some other creative outlet after my anticipated graduation date of May 2003. Mia Poole mp565@barnard.edu