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Published: April 12th 2007
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De-Icing
A De-Icer hoses the plane. Not that I’m surprised, but this fine city we call Chicago won’t let me leave. I guess it just can’t bring itself to see a guy like me skip town. A small snow storm rolled in over night through this morning and left a couple of inches of slush everywhere. Even though I checked my flight before leaving the hotel, after I arrived at the airport, I found it’s been delayed. As it was explained to us, until planes are allowed to land here at Midway, they’re on Gate Hold at their other airports. My flight to Denver is sitting in Columbus, OH right now, so I won’t be boarding until at least 1:00 PM local time. Other flights are sitting at their respective gates all over the country, too.
Sitting in the terminal, I watched the guys de-ice the planes from bucket trucks by spraying them with whatever it is they spray them with. Other planes were landing in billowing mists of slush and snow as they touched down.
To my left is an old, thin man with a peppy manner. He’s an amalgam of fashion, wearing a Tomy Hilfiger windbreaker and those heavy powder blue polyester
Nice to meet you.
In canine-like fashion, planes got to know each other as they waited, waited and waited... pants that every man his age owns a pair of. And I wonder if he couldn’t wait, when he was 30 years old, to hurry up and age so he could buy himself a spiffy pair of pants like those that he sees on the senior members of our society. Or maybe his tastes in clothing simply changed over the years so that one day being seen in public wearing these types of clothes came to him as a good idea.
And on my right sits two teeny-bopper types, if there are such things anymore. One girl is about 12 and the other perhaps 15 years old. The older of two fancies herself quite the boy’s eye candy as she wears hip-hugger jeans and a tight top that amplifies her upper torso. In her lap is the latest copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s planning on doing with the information she’ll read in the articles alluded to on the cover: “How to Climax Together” and “10 Things that Drive Him Crazy in Bed.” Although these days, who knows… perhaps she’s already putting such information to use.
Like the travelers, most of the aircraft are just sitting and waiting. Looking out on the taxiways and gates, planes are all lined up with nowhere to go. Idle Southwest 737s patiently stand in position as their red strobe lights blink benignly. Like a gathering of friendly dogs in a park, noses remain fixed behind the tails of the ones before them, with no intention of changing their positions. And the de-icers are kept busy hosing down the craft that are lucky enough to pull into a gate.
So I, with thousands of other bored passengers-to-be, wait until we hear the magic words announced from the public address system that our flights are boarding. There is a point of no return, however. If my flight is delayed too long, I won’t be able to go to Nebraska because I’ve got five hours of round-trip driving ahead of me once I get to Denver.
Traveling is the pits.
After waiting until 1:30, we finally boarded the plane that arrived from Ohio and took off, quickly leaving the slush and snow behind us. Chicago let me pry myself from its clutches and I am now on my way to Denver International Airport on what has so far been a smooth flight. Some babies cried early on, but they’re all sleeping now. One of them is in a position resembling the kind a cat finds itself in after slumbering in a warm spot for an hour. He’s lifeless on his dad’s shoulder as his father reads and flips pages with one hand while supporting his son’s bottom with the other. The teeny-bopping boy toy is across the aisle resting and a surfer dude in front of me is thumbing through the glossy pages of some surfing magazine. He alternates between that and listening to his pink MP3 player. The silver rings on the thumb and index finger of his left hand don’t at all complement the Navajo-themed bracelet on his wrist, but he’s no fashion slave.
This flight is taking us over the storm system that held us at bay this morning, and only now, one hour and nineteen minutes into the trip can I see where the clouds are breaking up and the ground 36,000 feet below comes into view for the first time. The message from the flight deck when we left was that the weather in Denver is partly cloudy, so I don’t anticipate being able to see too much from the air.
I’m eager to see Colorado. My plan is to visit Cabela’s in Sidney, NE this evening if I have time. I have a three hour ride ahead of me into Kimball after we land. Flying over wherever we are right now yields birds-eye views of huge concentric circles in the crops below. Where adjoining fields meet looks like a six-pack from above. And the huggable clouds pass by between us.
Right now the flight deck is announcing that we’re 130 miles from the airport and should be on the ground in 30 minutes. Denver is 46 degrees and not Chicago. This trip can only get better from here.
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mrselkoil
non-member comment
You can do that on a plane???
Did they have WiFi on the plane? How were you able to make the blog entry while flying? I hope you were able to go to Cabella's. I didn't hear from you last night so I'm guessing you were. Can't wait to have you home.