I haven’t even left town yet and already there are portents and signs in the sky that I definitely should rethink this trip. The lunar eclipse earlier in the week must have been a warning. On Friday my daughter Aviva brought home my standby tickets to Saipan. Given that this was her and her husband, Colin’s last night in B.C. (They are moving to Calgary), I should have perhaps looked at the tickets a little more closely. However due to an overabundance of wine, I did not look at them until 6:30am the next morning when I noticed a few discrepancies. First of all they had me leaving Seattle a day earlier, with a day stop over in Tokyo. One of my greatest fears in life (next to rats) is to be trapped at Narita airport: One small Jewish guy who speaks no Japanese, and whose finances will be financially and emotionally drained by an indefinite wait in the land of the rising sun. I mentioned this to someone once and they made a movie about it, called Terminal starring Tom Hank. Not only that, the tickets indicate they are invalid AFTER Nov 8th – that’s a day BEFORE I leave!! I make a mental note to cut Aviva out of my will.
Well to heck with how early it is in the morning, my daughter screwed up and she’s going to have to fix it. I have no regrets about waking them up this early. Unfortunately (for me) as they are leaving that morning for Calgary, they have disconnected their phones – all except one, Aviva’s cell, which she has conveniently turned off.
Well I can’t go through the whole day with this hanging over my head. There’s nothing else that can be done but go to the airport myself – right away - 6:45am - and straighten this mess out. After all, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
Upon arriving at the NWA ticket booths, I notice there’s only one person wandering around (not unusual for 6:45 on a Saturday morning). Furthermore, I’m not sure if this person is a ticket agent or security guard. And to add to my confusion I’m not sure if this person is a man or a woman. The androgynous nametag “Kelly” isn’t helping either. I take a calculated risk. I sidle up beside the person:
“Sir,” I begin.
Her look tells me I have made a big mistake.
“Step to the other side of the counter, SIR.”
Given the lack of alternatives I press on anyways. I explain that my daughter must have not followed my implicit and exact instructions and I have been issued a defective ticket.
Kelly explains that it is an open ticket and I can travel whenever I want. A few clicks of the computer shows I’m properly listed.
“But it says that the ticket is invalid after Nov 8th, I point out.
“Nov 8, 2005” Kelly retorts, looking at me like I’m a complete idiot.
“Oh.” It appears that my daughter does know what she’s doing. I thank my lucky stars that their phones were disconnected, or I’d be spitting out even more black feathers.
I leave and head back to the parking lot, where more problems await me. I insert the parking ticket into the machine.
“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”
I insert and withdraw my credit card.
“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”
I insert and withdraw my credit card again.
“Parking is 2.25. Please insert credit card.”
I’m about to insert my credit card for the third time, when I happen to glance down and see two receipts in the tray at the bottom of the machine. Obviously I’ve paid TWICE!
I drive out to the automated exit and insert the ticket into the machine.
“Please Drive Forward” the machine states.
I drive forward. Nothing happens. The gate does not open. I back up and try again:
“Please Drive Forward”
Again I drive forward and nothing happens. I try inserting the ticket backwards, upside down; I even try jamming the receipts into the slot. Still nothing. I back out and go to the pay window. I explain what happened to the attendant. I show him my TWO receipts. I pointed out I’ve paid TWICE and I should be allowed to leave. In fact, I should be allowed to leave and come back and leave again if I want.
“Let me see the receipts, “he asks.
I show him the two receipts.
“Let me see your credit card.”
He examines the ticket. He studies the receipts. He scrutinizes my credit card. All the time the lineup behind me is growing.
“You’ll have to pay again,” he states.
“But I already paid twice!”
“These receipts don’t match your credit card. Did you actually see them drop down?”
“No.” I admit. Now some impatient jerk behind me is laying on the horn.
“Someone else must have left them behind. You’ll have to pay me or you can’t leave.”
Now there’s a symphony of horns blaring. I give him my credit card and pay again and leave to a bunch of cheers behind me.
And there’s still seven days to go before I leave Vancouver.
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