Equal Time Point Page 4

  He was logging off the computer when the agent working the position next to him said, “I think we got a crisis developing at the handicap counter.”

  He looked down to the end of the counter and saw a line of wheelchairs at the handicapped check-in position and an agent looking for help that wasn’t going to come anytime soon.

  He walked down to the position and asked the agent, “Did we injure these people or did they show up in this condition?”

  “I don’t know, boss, I just stepped over to check in one and when I looked up there was a line.”

  “You’ll be happy to know we’re getting five more kiosks next week.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I’ll see if I can get a supervisor to help you out.”

  “Good luck. I see three of the four already working a position.”

  “In that case, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  “I appreciate whatever you can do.”

  The manager stepped through an opening in the counter and along the line of wheelchairs.

  “Can I have your attention please? Does anyone have a flight departing within the hour?”

  A middle-aged man had just pushed another wheelchair into the line, and he spoke up.

  “Sir, we’re all traveling together. Everyone is booked on Tri Con Eleven to Madrid.”

  “Okay, that will make things easier. How many people are in your party?”

  “Nineteen altogether, eighteen will need assistance plus myself.”

  “Very well. If you could make sure everyone has his or her passport and ticket available, we’ll move you right along. I’ll call for skycaps to help you through security and out to the boarding area. You have plenty of time.”

  “Thank you very much. Our group is attending the International Conference on Handicapped Discrimination. I appreciate your help.”

  “Glad to be of assistance, sir.”

  He walked back to the agent at the computer.

  “You’re not going to believe this. They’re traveling to Madrid as a group to oppose discrimination against handicapped people.”

  “Good. If they want to be treated equal, they can get in line with everyone else.”

  The manager chuckled.

  “You wish. If you’ll check tickets and enter them in the computer, I’ll check passports and handle the bag tags. Is the flight booked full?”

  “Nah, we’ve only got a hundred and ninety-five revenue passengers booked and two company employees riding free.”

  The next wheelchair rolled up and the gentleman produced his ticket. The agent looked at it and said, “I’m sorry sir, but I have to ask you to select another seat if you don’t mind.”

  “I certainly do mind. I want to sit in the seat I bought.”

  “I apologize again, sir, but that is an exit row, and safety regulations prohibit handicapped persons from occupying that seat.”

  “There’s also a regulation that prohibits discrimination against handicapped persons. Have you read that one?”

  “Yes, sir; it makes an exception for the exit rows.”

  “Well, I’m not moving because I’m sitting next to my friend here.” He indicated the man in the wheelchair behind him.

  “He can’t sit there either, sir. I’m sorry. How about if I give you two gentlemen a row of seats all to yourselves just a little further back?”

  “I guess we have no choice, but I will definitely look into this. You may hear about it later from your manager.”

  The agent looked at the manager and got a big smile.

  “I appreciate your cooperation, sir, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Molly Jackson walked into the terminal at four o’clock and approached one of the check-in kiosks. There was a red tag hanging on the machine that announced, “System out of service, please proceed to the ticket counter.”

  Molly had already had a long day. She had been in the office at seven-thirty with her rolling bag packed for the Madrid trip, and she had worked through lunch in order to make sure that everything was covered for the two days she would be out of town. From the kiosk, she could see several hundred passengers already in line at the international counter. She headed that way, and when she got closer she saw the terminal manager working the handicapped counter. When she approached, he saw her and smiled.

  “Can I help you ma’am?”

  “I was told to see a Mr. Kiosk in order to lodge a complaint.”

  He laughed.

  “You’re in the right place, just get in line.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Can you stay for a week or so?”

  “Actually, I’m on the Madrid flight.”

  He said sarcastically, “Oh great, Molly, go and enjoy your vacation, we’ll stay here and deal with this.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s work.”

  “Well, I think this position is under control. If you meet me down at one of the unmanned computers, I’ll check you in and get you out of here.”

  Molly walked around the long line of people and found him at the end of the counter. He already had the computer online and had completed her check-in except for her baggage. He printed out the bag tag and attached it to her rolling bag.

  Before they could log off the computer, the next person in line rushed over and said, “Hurry, I’m going to miss my flight.”

  Molly said, “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll take care of you.”

  She handed his ticket to the manager and asked, “How many bags can we check for you today?”

  “Just one, thank you.”

  The manager was amazed at Molly’s ability to calm people and take charge.

  She smiled at the passenger and said, “We’ve got a rookie on the computer here, but I think he’s got it figured out. Let’s have a look at your passport and you’ll be on your way.” She looked at the passport and handed it back. “Thank you very much, Mr. Jamison, and have a great flight. We’re glad to have you with us today.”

  As the man turned to walk away, she waved to the next person in line and told the manager, “You catch on pretty fast. You might have a future in this business.”

  He laughed.

  “Molly, you don’t know what you’re getting into here.”

  The next passenger rushed over and Molly took the lady’s ticket.

  “Oh my goodness, you almost won the free flight. Your ticket number is only one digit different than the winner.”

  The lady looked shocked.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, was I really that close?”

  “Let me take that bag for you, and don’t worry, we’ve got a great flight planned for you even if it’s not free.”

  The manager kept pounding away at the keyboard and never looked up, but he was smiling inside. He knew he was witnessing a master at work.

  During the next half hour, he and Molly checked in more passengers than any other position on the counter and had a great time doing it. It had been a long time since he had seen so many passengers smiling and happy. When the afternoon shift agents came in, they took over the position for them. He walked Molly downstairs to the ramp level and arranged a ride for her out to the international concourse.

  The long row of wheelchairs finally made it to the security checkpoint and began clearing. They couldn’t pass through the metal detector in a wheelchair, so they had to be hand-searched before being allowed to pass. This created another scene and an in-depth discussion about discrimination and constitutional rights of individuals. Even so, progress was being made until the gentleman who had been forced to change seats advanced to the head of the line. When his carry-on bag was searched, the security agent informed him, “You can only have three ounces of liquid, and this bottle of aftershave alone exceeds that. You’ll have to dispose of it, plus the cologne.”

  “I will not. That’s expensive stuff, and I won’t waste it.”

  “That’s the rule. I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Why is that a rul
e?”

  “The rule prevents liquid explosive from getting aboard the aircraft.”

  “You think three ounces of explosive could blow up the airplane?”

  “That’s the rule.”

  “Can I take three ounces aboard?”

  “Yes, you may. If you pour all but three ounces out, you can take it with you.”

  “Well, I have eighteen people in my party. So you’re telling me we can take three ounces apiece?”

  “That’s the rule.”

  “So between us we could take fifty-four ounces of liquid explosive aboard with no problem? If three ounces is dangerous, imagine what we could do with fifty-four.”

  The agent signaled a supervisor, who came over and invited the entire group of handicapped passengers to a private area where they would be educated in the finer points of airport security. The lecture and interrogation lasted for forty-five minutes and was followed by each person partially disrobing to be introduced to the bomb-sniffing dog, who did not discriminate as to what or where he sniffed.

  Charlie rode the employee bus from the parking lot to the international concourse. He had invited Pattie to come along on the trip and enjoy a day in Madrid, but she told him she was holding out for Paris. In reality, she had committed to spend some time with her sister and didn’t want to disappoint her, which he could understand. He smiled when he thought about the fact that she never let his status as an airline captain go to his head. She had helped him pack his bag and when he put his black uniform on with the gold stripes on the sleeves, gold wings on the chest, and gold leaves on the bill of his cap she said, “I like your costume. Are you going to a party? You must be pretending to be an admiral or something.” He was not likely to get a big ego with Pattie around.

  When Charlie stepped off the bus, carrying his brain bag, and pulling his rolling travel bag, he could see that his flight was parked at the gate. He was sometimes still amazed that something that big could actually get off the ground. The white fuselage with blue trim was two-thirds as long as a football field. The silver aluminum of the belly and wings were gleaming in the sun, and the bold blue letters of Tri Continent Airlines stood out high on the forward section of the airplane. The tail stood six stories high with the blue triangular Tri Con logo emblazoned on it. He realized how much he was looking forward to a normal flight after all the contrived situations in the simulator and the imagined problems in the classroom.

  Chapter Six

  The Tri Con international flight attendant lounge was crowded with flight attendants of all shapes and sizes. The men and women ranged in age from twenty-something to sixty-something. Each of them wore the sky blue uniform that identified them as Tri Con cabin crew. Most of the ladies chose the pantsuit uniform option, but a few still preferred the traditional skirt and jacket. The international trips were the most desirable working conditions because they provided the most flying hours per day and thus the most days off per month. Plus, the layovers were in world-class cities. Therefore the most senior flight attendants were likely to be found on those trips. There was one exception to that premise, and it involved the position of lead flight attendant. The lead flight attendant on each flight was in charge and decided how and when the meal services, movies, and duty-free sales would be conducted. The lead was also responsible for dealing with whatever problems presented themselves during the trip and the associated paperwork. The position required certification by attending special training classes and passing a written exam. Until recently, the hassle and grief of the position had been rewarded with a premium in addition to the regular hourly flight attendant pay. When Tri Con reduced the premium to a mere pittance, the senior flight attendants dropped out of the program. Now the lead was likely to be a junior flight attendant that endured the hassle in order to fly a nice international trip: another unintended ripple effect of cost control.

  Britt Fowler rolled her travel bag into the lounge and parked it in the corner. She then moved to a bank of employee computers along the wall and entered her employee number and password. She pulled up the sign-in screen, electronically declared herself present, and prepared to perform her duties as lead flight attendant on Tri Con Flight Eleven to Madrid. She noted that she beat the sign-in deadline by fourteen minutes. She next went to her mailbox and retrieved various bulletins and revisions to the In-Flight Manual that each attendant was required to carry. Finally, she rolled her travel bag into the designated briefing room for the Madrid flight and stowed it out of the way. She looked at herself in the full-length wall mirror and was happy to see that her uniform skirt was only slightly wrinkled so far. The gym membership was paying the dividends she had hoped for, and she thought, Not bad for a twenty-nine-year-old divorcee. She ran her fingers through her medium length blonde hair and congratulated herself once again for choosing a style that required little care during her constant travel. Britt sat down at the head of the conference table and began entering the revisions to her manual while she waited for the rest of the crew.

  Charlie walked along the side of the concourse until he reached the door to flight operations. He wanted to put his fingers in his ears to protect them from the scream of a taxiing jet, but his hands were full of bags. He thought that the combination of jet noise and high altitude pressurization on his ears would probably render him deaf before retirement. He entered the security code, opened the door to a rush of air-conditioned air, and realized that it was hot as well as noisy on the ramp. When he walked by the crew scheduling counter, someone called out, “Hey Charlie, Colt was in here yesterday and said you were buying coffee today in recognition of services provided for a trip swap.”

  “Did he tell you about the Easter Bunny too?”

  “You mean you didn’t request the swap?”

  “No, he did. I’m just doing him a favor.”

  “That conniving scoundrel, just wait till he gets his schedule next month.”

  Charlie laughed and made his way to his mailbox. Among the bulletins, revisions, and advertisements, he found an envelope with a note.

  “Charlie, give this to the crew schedulers with my best wishes.” Inside the envelope was a ten-dollar bill and a note that said, “Too much coffee is bad for you…Love, Colt.” Charlie laughed again and thought that Colt’s legend would last long after his retirement.

  After signing in for the trip and delivering Colt’s note, Charlie took his bags to the pilots’ briefing room. Both first officers were already there and working on the flight plan. Robby Jenner had flown copilot for Charlie several times before, and he stood up to shake hands.

  “Hey Robby, good to see you again. How are you?”

  “Good, Charlie, looking forward to flying with you again.”

  “Let’s make it uneventful.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The other first officer stood up too.

  “Nice to meet you, Captain Wells. I’m Tony Johnson. I was just telling Robby that this is only my second international trip, but I’ll try to keep it uneventful too.”

  “Glad to have you with us, Tony. Just call me Charlie. We’ll try not to teach you any bad habits. Just relax, take your time, and speak right up if you have any questions. Robby and I were new to the operation once upon a time too.”

  “I really appreciate that, Charlie. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

  Charlie said, “I’ll fly us to Madrid, gentlemen, and you two can fight over who flies us home.”

  Robby said, “I’ve had several landings this month, Charlie, so if it’s okay with you, Tony can fly the leg home.”

  “Sure, that’s great. Tony, you’re gonna love the big beast.”

  Robby said, “So, Tony, you’ll be relief going over, and I’ll do it coming back.”

  “Okay, I do the pre-flight walk around tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, and I’ll help you do the flight plan time and fuel estimates after takeoff if you need it.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Charlie said, “Well, let�
�s get to it, guys. Does the airplane have any write-ups?”

  “Nothing on the carryover list, so it looks good.”

  “Have you got the weather reports there, Robby?”

  “Yes sir. No problems for departure: scattered thunderstorms over the northeast United States and southern Canada, a warm front stretching west to east from mid-Atlantic to Portugal, and marginal approach weather for Madrid. The forecast for arrival time is a ceiling of 300 overcast and visibility one mile in light rain and fog.”

  “Sounds like a good day to sleep in Spain. What’s the fuel load?”

  “Total is 195,000 pounds. Trip fuel to Madrid is 145,000, contingency is 14,500. Barcelona is the alternate and we have 15,000 to get there with almost two hours of holding fuel.”

  Charlie said, “That doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll talk to dispatch in a few minutes and see if that warm front is going to affect Madrid or Barcelona. We may add more fuel.”

  “You can check my numbers, Charlie, but I think we can only add 11,000 pounds and still be at max landing weight for arrival.”

  “Okay, Robby, thanks. Good work. What’s the flight plan look like?”

  “Standard stuff. Up the east coast, eight hours and eleven minutes en route, coast out over southern Newfoundland, coast in north of Lisbon.”

  “What could be simpler than that?” Charlie smiled.