Friday, February 16, 2007

Travel Tumult: Cured with Chili

Today was one of those incredibly disasterous travel days.

I wake my tired self up at 5 something to catch an 8 something out of LaGuardia. We now need two stupid hours of line standing at the airport because Homeland Security can’t get it’s head out of it’s tucchus. They’re too busy wondering what kind of evil-doing dissolvables I’m smuggling onto plane in the 3 1/2 ounce container of hand cream they’ve just taken from me.

I hate this kind of stupidity. It’s why I run my own business. I can’t stand to be around policy wonks who stand as boulders in the great rivers of freedom, ingenuity and innovation.

But I have to live in society like the rest of folk sometimes and so I grudgingly rule play. I stand on line for one hour and 45 minutes because the kiosks that do auto check-in decide not to work on this morning of mornings, 2 days after the memorable Valentine’s Day Ice and Wind storm of 2007. How apropos.

So LGA is feeling a heck of a lot like Ellis Island, where we’re all huddling and massed and yearning to get on a damn flight. It’s hectic, it’s too early, I haven’t had coffee, and I’m working on a mere 4 hours of sleep. This ain’t me at my best.

When I get to the front of the line I find out that my flight is leaving from JFK. In 20 minutes. No human can get from airport to airport that fast this time of the morning.

“Oooooh. Yeah. There’s no way you can make this flight,” says my annoying Delta desk-guy.

I know this. We both know this. Only one of us is slightly close to the edge while the other likes to taunt like a 12-year old bully. Look, I didn’t book this flight. I didn’t arrange the car. I was taken here and I’m doing what I’m told. It’s not my fault.

“Why did you come to the wrong airport?”

Is there anything more annoying this moron can say?

“We can’t book you on anything today. Or tomorrow. Sunday is probably the best we can do.”

Apparently there is. I have had it with this Power Broker. “Look. I didn’t book my flight. It’s an honest mistake. Please do what you can to get me on the next flight, whenever it may be, but please don’t take tone with me.” I gave him a semi-psychotic look and he got nice, fast.

I made the requisite calls to my coworkers, who immediately jumped into action to right he wrong. Blessing of blessing! My flight was delayed! I had 2 hours to go and could possibly make it! And so to JFK I crawled.

I made it there with two hours to go, but those darn kiosks were a broken, still. So I waited on a line. It was 60 people long with 2 clerks at the end of the rainbow. It took exactly two hours, so that I could be sure to miss my flight.

I realized what was happening, and that I was SOL. So I decided to have some fun with all this. I befriended the very attractive producer standing in front of me. We became a couple for two hours, watching bags, getting snacks together…he even went to speak to the official people at the desk on my behalf at one point. Awesome airport boyfriend. There was the chick who tried to cut me on line (bad call, cutter chick), and the mothers and wives who were completely losing their shit.

Once I realized I was not going to get what I want, I kind of gave into it and watched the circus come to town. One serious PTA mom who clearly wasn’t carrying hand cream in HER purse, a law-abiding policy wonk COMPLETELY lost her mind when the flight was cancelled. That was fun to watch.

Another couple made it just a bit closer to divorce court, when, standing in the Delta terminal she presented her husband with her e-tickets that clearly stated Jet Blue (they had 12 minutes to make it, and weren’t going to). It’s amazing to watch loving couples laugh through the dramas, and quite sad to watch the less perfect among us disembowel each other over honest mistakes.

Kids were howling, but thankfully no parents were violent (they save that for the subways). Everyone was taking tone. One Delta staffer, who had the thankless job of managing the folks in line, when I asked her to honestly tell me if there was any way I could make it to the front of the line before my plane took off looked at me with absolute sincerity and said, “Yes Ma’am, Miracles Do Happen.” I had to ask her to repeat it, as I couldn’t believe. She said it again, with glittered eyelids, and Sunday-school earnestness. I gave her a big smile, and waited just for her. (Note to the earnest chick: Miracles may happen, but not in the Delta terminal on President's Day weekend.)

I stood in line today for a total of 5 1/2 hours, plus an additional 1/2 hour at the taxi stand. You konw, the one with the bitter whipping winds, no cabs, no people, and the black hole of helplessness. I called the dispatcher every five minutes to send me a cab. “Ts’onneessway, ma’am.” One did come, in fact, and screamed right by me.

Finally, feet and hands numb, lugging all my crapola, I made it upstairs to the area where no taxis are allowed (but at least there were people). Looking for help, I noticed that the police had arrived on the scene (crowd control). Police dogs were there. I kept asking for help and was passed by again, again, again and I couldn’t BEAR to stand on another line.

Finally, I walked right up to the K-9 cop car and knocked on the window. “Sir, can you tell me where I can find a cab?” He pointed me back to where I had been waiting. No more; I had reached the end. “I am sorry, but I have been waiting in the cold for 30 minutes. I have been here for 8 hours (so I exaggerate). I cannot wait on another line. I just need someone to tell me how I can get home and I need it to be the truth.” A tear formed. I am not proud of this, but I had used up my well of good nature and now it was time to find a warm bed and some comfort.

He saw the sad and said “Hop in.” He drove me about 1/2 a mile to taxi oasis. I was embarrassed by the earlier near tear, and he asked me where I was from. I told him New York, and he reminded me how lucky I was. Hating my fellow New Yorkers at this point, I asked him why, and he said, “'Cause at least you’re home. Think about the rest of the folks in there.”

Humbled again. My little silly self was losing it after 6 hours on line. People were here for days, stranded, and sad, and not as lucky as I, who could throw down $40, get in a cab and get home. Have some fortitude, girl.

Crockpot Chili
By Allison Fishman

I had been making recipes all week for the last few shows of Home Made Simple Season 2, and had the good fortune to come home to a freezer full of Chili. Soon enough I’d be able to warm my insides, so they could catch up with my blushing outsides.

2 pounds ground beef
1/4 cup chili powder
1 (28-ounce) cans diced tomatoes
1 (15-ounce) cans kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 (15-ounce) can refried beans
1 whole jalapeno, sliced in half
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon dried minced onions
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons corn meal

Garnishes: finely chopped red onion, sour cream, grated cheddar cheese, cilantro, sliced pickled jalapeno, limes.

Combine all ingredients (but only 3 tablespoons of the chili powder and 1 tablespoon salt) in a slow cooker (4 1/2-quart size, minimum). Stir together, cover, and cook on HIGH for 6 to 8 hours or LOW for 8 to 10 hours. Season with an additional 1 teaspoon salt and tablespoon of chili powder just before serving.

Remove bay leaf, and jalapeno halves and serve over rice or pasta, with garnishes.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Don't you just love airports, and this is coming from someone who's husband worked for the airlines for years!
I had a similar experience not to long ago when I was taking my 11 year old brother in law to the airport. Since he was an unaccompanied minor I had to stay with him until the plane took off. I was given a pass by the agent and told to go through security. Little did I know that I was going to have to be searched just like everyone else. Well- here I was with a toddler and twin infants, plus an 11 year old!
Try telling a toddler to take his shoes off, argue with a TSA agent that the bottles you have are full of breast milk, and that there is no human way possible you can get your babies out of their stroller, place the bags on the conveyor, fold the stroller and carry the babies by yourself (but they can't carry the infants because they are men and the babies are females!!) They were quick to offer patting me down when I beeped though!!!
The nerve! I had to ask a complete stranger to help me hold a child!! Can't they tell I'm far from a criminal? and I wasn't even traveling!!!

11:20 AM  

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