The Oscar for Best Original Song in 1981 went to the theme to the movie "Arthur." Written by singer-songwriter Christopher Cross (who had a number one hit with it), it also listed composer Burt Bacharach and his then-wife Carole Bayer Sager as co-writers. A fourth credit when to Bayer Sager's ex-husband Peter Allen for a single line he penned, one he came up with while stuck in a holding pattern over JFK Airport: "When you get caught between the moon and New York City."
As a person who has gotten caught between the moon and Newark, LGA and yes, Kennedy, I can attest that you don't always take the song's advice in next line and fall in love. But it's a strange netherworld to inhabit, one where the normal rhythms of time and space seem bent if not suspended. Most recently my experience coming back from Denver on the ground and in the air did indeed freeze my spot in the cosmos, or so it felt.
It's not that there's anything materially different about the location when you are delayed, either on or off the plane. On the ground there are still multiple lines to stand in and overpriced food to be bought, uncomfortable seats to sit in and unintelligible announcements to decipher. In the air there are seatmates fighting for the armrest and miniscule tables on which to balance drinks and snacks. But when all is on schedule you calibrate your mental state and clock to lean into it all, and roll with the hand you are dealt. However, when that program goes to hell in a handbasket, well, behavioral vertigo kicks in.
At the terminal you practice some inner Zen to get you through the check-in process, security line, and navigation to the gate. Once there, if the delay is more than the 30 to 60 minutes pad you'd planned on, you go into a quasi-twilight zone measured in delay hours. Like dog years, they are still 60 minutes on the clock, but it meant that my stated 2-hour weather delay felt more like half a day.
Rather than sitting down, I looped the concourse checking out the food options. Then I found a departure board, and compared my flight to others, making sure the misery was evenly shared, that somehow my plane wasn't being singled out and penalized. I scoped out a sitting area near my gate, the better to have power and space while still being able to keep at eye on the ticket counter. I looked at my watch: 20 minutes had passed though it felt at least twice that.
I pulled out my computer and caught up on some work. I read the news, checked the weather for the fourth time, then signed into the airline web site to confirm the updated delay information. Ten minutes. I pulled out my book, sent a few texts, watched people approach the gate agent and turn away unhappy. Ten more minutes. I was approaching my original 60 minute pad, and was preparing to get back into the normal pre-flight state of mind when, yes, they added another hour to the delay. Sigh. Rinse and repeat.
Eventually the clock went around enough times, and we were able to board. All started as planned. I scored an exit aisle with no one next to me, so was as comfortable as was possible. I parsed out my in-air activities – reading, daydreaming, snoozing, nibbling – to coincide with our expected flight time. All looked to be on track, then the dreaded announcement: "Ah, folks, this is the captain speaking. Looks like they are having some issues on the ground with all that backed up traffic, so they asked us to circle a bit. At this point, they saying should be about 40 minutes. I'll keep you posted, but for now, just sit back and relax." Sigh again. Back to reading, daydreaming and snoozing: ran out of nibbles.
That drill repeated once more, but eventually we were cleared to land. While it was some six hours later than planned, I was safely on the ground and in the same day I started. As Peter Allen wrote, I had indeed been stuck between the moon and New York City, but thankfully landed in the latter and headed home. All good, water under yet another bridge. Until next time.
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Marc Wollin of Bedford has started to travel for work again. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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