Being American
I'm sitting in the Corner Bakery Cafe, downtown Chicago, enjoying a chicken and mushroom stew with coffee. It's lunch time. I'm also giving my feet some rest, since I've been walking for the past couple of hours, taking random photos. The food is good, it's quiet and not too busy, and I can indulge in the bromidic adventurers trudging by. Lunchtime entertainment I suppose.
I flew into Chicago last night, from Toronto. My departure was planned at 6:30PM, but the plane didn't take to the sky until after 7:30. I was the only one on the flight. Yes, the only passenger. I walked on the plane, and the stewardess, an amiable black woman with a bit of a southern American accent, feinting incredulity, declared, "You! You!" I sheepishly told her I was sorry. She told me I could sit wherever I wanted, and so I took the seat at the front of the plane. As we were taxiing to the deicing station, she told me she wasn't going to do the usual safety demonstration, but pointed to where the exits were, and asked if I wanted something to munch on. I passed on what would have been a salt feast.
The flight was thankfully dull. The stewardess remarked a couple of times that it was like I chartered a plane for myself. I wondered while in the air that with no other passengers on the plane, and therefore no one else to share the carbon footprint with, I had probably done an entire lifetime of flying in that one trip. How am I ever going to do justice to the planet for that flight?
As we came into Chicago, the pilot came on the intercom with, "Sir. Yes, I am talking to our only passenger on this flight. Just wanted to let you know that we'll be at the gate in about 20 minutes." That was a first. Never had a pilot address me directly on a plane before -- and neither had I even chartered a plane for myself.
American Airlines probably wanted to treat me to completely new experiences last night. I was the only one on the plane, and I had checked one piece of luggage. Think they could manage to screw that up? Another new experience for me. I had never lost my luggage before. It wasn't the clothes I was worried about. I had actually packed some of my work materials in the luggage so I wouldn't have to lug it in my backpack. I also experienced the calm, uncaring and bureaucratic service of people who trust their processes. The ladies at the baggage counter told me with a smile that there was nothing they could do, other than log the baggage as missing and put a trace on it. They couldn't afford to care. There was a line of whiners and complainers behind me. Hopefully they get danger pay. And I couldn't complain until I had waited for an hour and a half -- because that's how long you need to wait to give the process that didn't work for me, to work.
I left the airport and went to get my rental. I had asked for the cheap, compact car, since I just needed to drive a short distance to Oak Brook and through downtown Chicago. Another new experience awaited me. I got a Dodge Durango SUV, a substitute, at the same price. Not only had I done it to Mother Earth with my chartered flight, here I was being set up to poison the air of Chicago. {Sigh)
I got the hotel after 11PM, after not getting lost driving from O'Hare to Oak Brook. I checked in, and then the only place I could find for supper was Taco Bell. I ordered a taco combo, which was disgusting, but I poured hot sauce over it to make it palatable. It was accompanied with a barrel of pop, which I had a sip of.
This morning, I grabbed a quick bite from the free breakfast the hotel offered. There were no mugs and no plates. It was styrofoam or place the eggs on my hand. I avoided the bacon and ham, even though, after the chartered flight and SUV, it almost felt like a betrayal. I am sure I disappointed the gods who were conniving my faith in America.
My luggage finally made it to the hotel around 10AM this morning as I was readying to face Chicago. Which was good, because it allowed me to brush my teeth and wash away the previous day. I skipped the expressways, and drove through side streets to get to downtown Chicago. I turned up the 80s rock on Sirius radio, and with my orange poofie on (my youngest prefers goofie), I didn't feel the least bit afraid as I drove through some neighborhoods (here's the missing "u" for when I get back home) that have probably never seen better days. I was one with the people, although I got a Samuel L. "Mutha Fucking" Jackson look from a strapping gentleman who jaywalked in front of me. I showed respect. I slowed down to avoid him hitting me.
Lunch was more real than breakfast. It was hearty, if I can say that to describe good food served on styrofoam plates, bowls and paper cups. Good, but what a waste. I'm not sure what the problem is. The Chinese do make real plates, mugs and utensils.
I flew into Chicago last night, from Toronto. My departure was planned at 6:30PM, but the plane didn't take to the sky until after 7:30. I was the only one on the flight. Yes, the only passenger. I walked on the plane, and the stewardess, an amiable black woman with a bit of a southern American accent, feinting incredulity, declared, "You! You!" I sheepishly told her I was sorry. She told me I could sit wherever I wanted, and so I took the seat at the front of the plane. As we were taxiing to the deicing station, she told me she wasn't going to do the usual safety demonstration, but pointed to where the exits were, and asked if I wanted something to munch on. I passed on what would have been a salt feast.
The flight was thankfully dull. The stewardess remarked a couple of times that it was like I chartered a plane for myself. I wondered while in the air that with no other passengers on the plane, and therefore no one else to share the carbon footprint with, I had probably done an entire lifetime of flying in that one trip. How am I ever going to do justice to the planet for that flight?
As we came into Chicago, the pilot came on the intercom with, "Sir. Yes, I am talking to our only passenger on this flight. Just wanted to let you know that we'll be at the gate in about 20 minutes." That was a first. Never had a pilot address me directly on a plane before -- and neither had I even chartered a plane for myself.
American Airlines probably wanted to treat me to completely new experiences last night. I was the only one on the plane, and I had checked one piece of luggage. Think they could manage to screw that up? Another new experience for me. I had never lost my luggage before. It wasn't the clothes I was worried about. I had actually packed some of my work materials in the luggage so I wouldn't have to lug it in my backpack. I also experienced the calm, uncaring and bureaucratic service of people who trust their processes. The ladies at the baggage counter told me with a smile that there was nothing they could do, other than log the baggage as missing and put a trace on it. They couldn't afford to care. There was a line of whiners and complainers behind me. Hopefully they get danger pay. And I couldn't complain until I had waited for an hour and a half -- because that's how long you need to wait to give the process that didn't work for me, to work.
I left the airport and went to get my rental. I had asked for the cheap, compact car, since I just needed to drive a short distance to Oak Brook and through downtown Chicago. Another new experience awaited me. I got a Dodge Durango SUV, a substitute, at the same price. Not only had I done it to Mother Earth with my chartered flight, here I was being set up to poison the air of Chicago. {Sigh)
I got the hotel after 11PM, after not getting lost driving from O'Hare to Oak Brook. I checked in, and then the only place I could find for supper was Taco Bell. I ordered a taco combo, which was disgusting, but I poured hot sauce over it to make it palatable. It was accompanied with a barrel of pop, which I had a sip of.
This morning, I grabbed a quick bite from the free breakfast the hotel offered. There were no mugs and no plates. It was styrofoam or place the eggs on my hand. I avoided the bacon and ham, even though, after the chartered flight and SUV, it almost felt like a betrayal. I am sure I disappointed the gods who were conniving my faith in America.
My luggage finally made it to the hotel around 10AM this morning as I was readying to face Chicago. Which was good, because it allowed me to brush my teeth and wash away the previous day. I skipped the expressways, and drove through side streets to get to downtown Chicago. I turned up the 80s rock on Sirius radio, and with my orange poofie on (my youngest prefers goofie), I didn't feel the least bit afraid as I drove through some neighborhoods (here's the missing "u" for when I get back home) that have probably never seen better days. I was one with the people, although I got a Samuel L. "Mutha Fucking" Jackson look from a strapping gentleman who jaywalked in front of me. I showed respect. I slowed down to avoid him hitting me.
Lunch was more real than breakfast. It was hearty, if I can say that to describe good food served on styrofoam plates, bowls and paper cups. Good, but what a waste. I'm not sure what the problem is. The Chinese do make real plates, mugs and utensils.
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