Richard is my new best friend, my BBF, my bud, my main man. Day 2 started at 4:45 AM. I slept surprising well last night, even though I had lots on my mind and still many unresolved issues as far as travel, letting our African hosts know we would not be arriving on schedule, 7 of our group in Paris and not knowing our schedule… It was a short night. I e-mailed our friends in Africa and the Parisian contingent before going to bed. Janice called the hotel in Johannesburg to cancel our Thursday night reservation and also called the car rental in Africa to revise our schedule.
However, at 5:30 AM we were on the shuttle back to the airport for a 7:20 flight to Atlanta and on to Africa. When we arrived at the airport we went directly to the Delta counter where we were assisted by Richard. We presented him with a plethora of paperwork that was given to us by Northwest late last evening. Of course, Northwest assured us that they had done everything necessary to guarantee we would have absolutely no problem boarding the Delta flight Thursday morning. Richard dutifully pecked at his keyboard and then it happened. We looked at each other in total disbelief as Richard’s smile transposed into clinched teeth and his head began the all too familiar back and forth universal code for problems. According to Richard, Northwest had still not done whatever it was that was necessary to get all 5 of us on the flight. Just as it was last night, 3 of us were good to go with 2 of us lost in airport computer oblivion. But unlike last night, Richard told us he was going to go personally to Northwest and get this straightened out, once and for all. The time was now 6:30 and we still had security to clear for our 7:30 flight. Richard disappeared with our paperwork and we waited. And waited. At 7:00 Richard reappeared with a big smile and a thumbs up. We now had 20 minutes and Richard had some serious computer pecking to do before all was clear.
“Can we make it?” we asked.
“We’re sure going to try.” Richard replied.
After pecking, printing, stapling and handing us all boarding passes Richard said, “Follow me.”
Away we went past the ticket counter and beyond the door with the warnings that prohibited all but authorized personnel enter, into the bowels of the airport. Richard gathered us on a freight elevator and when the door opened we were at the security gate. Richard took us to the front of the line, pointed us in the direction of the gate and bid us well. He said an electric car would be waiting for us at the concourse to take us to our gate, which happened to be the very last gate on concourse B. It was now 7:12. We had 8 minutes.
Karma began to get ugly again, for security pulled 2 of us out of line for extra screening. I pleaded with the lady to be quick as she went through my bags. I explained our plight and as she put blue gloved hands into my back pack and I began to tell her the whole story of the last 2 days, going heavy on the mission trip aspect.
At 7:16 AM we arrived at the concourse and the electric cart Richard had promised us was nowhere to be found. Molly and Ellie, the youngest of our groups struck out in a dead run for the gate while the other 3 of us ran as best we could. In my mind I was O.J. Simpson in his pre-scandal TV ads sprinting through the airport. In my mind…
When we arrived at the gate, boarding was complete, it was just a bit past 7:20, but the door was still open. Sweating and panting, we boarded our plane. We actually were on a plane. Could it be that the winds of Karma had changed?
We arrived in Atlanta, had breakfast and I got on the computer. We had received a reply from Babe Gideon in Swaziland that the crew to meet us at the airport had already left for Johannesburg when he had received my e-mail, but not to worry, he had means to contact them and they would sat over and meet us on Friday. I also had an e-mail from Chris and Laura that the group had arrived safely in Paris and were enjoying sandwiches near the Eiffel Tower. How near is yet to be determined. It may be that Chris considers the airport close to the Eiffel Tower.
While waiting in Atlanta to board our plane for Johannesburg I glanced at my ticket. Row 5, seat C. Row 5 had to be in the front of the plane. Could it be that Richard had upgraded me to first class? 3 of us had seats in row 5.
When we boarded the plane, I was shown to what amounted to a Lazy Boy with more leg room than I had ever seen on a plane. I called Lisa and explained to her the electronics of the seat which would nearly recline. I raised and lowered the leg rest and giddily explained every detail. I was brought a glass of Chardonnay. People were starting to stare, so I toned it down, acting as if I always flew first class and bid Lisa goodbye as they closed the cabin doors.
We are now somewhere over the Atlantic. It’s still a 17 hour flight to Johannesburg with a touchdown in Dakar, Senegal, but first class makes it so much more doable. 17 hours in a Lazy Boy is tough, but in some ways I have been training for this for a lifetime. A younger more active person would crumble. Being sedentary has its advantages. God love Richard’s heart
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