Polly plane rider wished she could have seen Atlanta airport’s scenic tarmac during the two and a half hours poured into her sticky vinyl seat next to a big man and his ever splayed legs. However, the tarmac remained hidden and mysterious behind drawn window shades. Fortunately there was enough air conditioning to condition the eau de toilet fragrance of mixed sweaty brow, forgotten deodorant, failed deodorant, failed odorants, sweaty shoe leather, and flight attendant once-freshly-pressed uniforms.
Two and a half hours seemed longer than the first plane delay. Polly politely deplaned the first plane after thirty-five minutes, because of mechanical issues, then promptly boarded this new precious plane. Now, near the three hour mark, the three hour tour returned safely to the terminal. A wonderful new gate, and another wait, though off the plane, so passengers could feed. Though not on each other.
Forty minutes later, Polly and her new friends efficiently boarded like good sardines and brined themselves while waiting for the plane to push back jubilantly from the gate. Unfortunately, Mr. Weather showed his dirty puffy hair and shook moisture down on the plane, clapped his hands, shot laser beams from his eyes, and shook the plane with blasts of bad stormy breath. Oh, and to prove he was tough, he threatened a speedy swirling wind. Didn’t show. Bumpkus.
Once he lost laser power, Polly and the airplane pushed back and began the joyous taxi on the now visible, but very dark tarmac. She still couldn’t enjoy it’s scenic qualities. There were only forty other planes in front of Polly’s persistent plane. Joy. Elation. Mechanical trouble. Not to worry. It had been less than three hours. The prompt little plane that could not pulled back into its home at A concourse, gate 6. “We are very sorry for the inconvenience. We need to get another plausible plane.
She started this carnival ride at 3:40pm. It was now 10:30pm. More feeding. Oh, and standing in a slow moving, “it is moving?”, line. “We have found the plane! The one that will save all of you who are left.” Polly pranced down to gate 32 for a 12:45am departure. Boy, was she glad she hadn’t slept at all so she didn’t miss any of the announcements. She boards with the remaining 35 passengers. 1:30am. “We need 5000 more pounds of fuel.”
Then, inconceivably, the plane was pushed back from the gate. The plane made it across the thoroughly dark, but scenic, tarmac. And then. And then. The plane left the earth, and did what planes were created to do. Their purpose. It flew! Polly applauded! At 3:30am the beautiful runway of Reagan National caught Polly’s plane wheels. The travel! The travel!