“Distressed Passenger Rate. 1 Night. Valid on Jan. 18, 2011”
“Miss, your hotel will be rated #1 in 2012!” The shuttle driver was a delight in winter gray. I asked why 2012, because, he said, we are ripping out the interior and renovating the entire space.
New York City
The bus driver pulled over, got out, and banged the wind shield wipers. They were wrapped in slush.
Cars around us blinked their emergency lights.
“Delayed”, “Cancelled”, four of the five morning flights.
We were the only one going, but after one hour in the plane, on the ground.
“We have picked up just a little more luggage, “ said the captain, “ We need to burn some fuel to bring the weight of the plane down. After that, we’ll de-ice the plane. Then we’ll be good to go.”
Two women behind me talked loudly.
“What brought you here?”
Yacking, yacking, yacking…
“I figured people here are either born here or they are forced to come here.”
“I don’t find people here friendly. They seem to be uncomfortable talking with strangers.”
“Nor do I,” said the other, “The folks here are cooped up in winter like this for so long…”
Yacking, yacking. I dozed off.
Hash brown, eggs, sausage, a slab of butter and jam on the toast, “gas station” coffee.
One more good, old breakfast before heading East.
Breakfast and laptops served.