GETTING THERE IS HALF THE FUN . . ..

    "Getting there is half the fun", or so proclaimed a travel commercial of long ago.  I think I even remember seeing it posted on the MTA (Metropolitan Transit Authority . . . the Boston subway system) cars around 1960.  Even then, on that conveyance, I knew the slogan did not exactly fit.

Now, this really was a Fun Ride !
White Pass Railroad
Skagway, Alaska

   








  A friend once called this blog my  "3 M's".  "Mutterings" was included in the name because I realized that occasionally there would likely be things about which I might want to 'mutter', i.e., complain. 'Kvetch', if you prefer it in Yiddish.  And, while I do not consider myself a 'kvetcher' by nature, occasionally this dormant  side of my being comes to the fore.  So it was over the past couple of weeks when we went on our  second Alaskan cruise within the past three years.  This time, however, we opted to add several days on land and head North into Denali National Park.

       I do not consider myself a 'white-knuckle' flyer; still, flying  Economy class in a 'stump jumper' (as smaller aircraft are  sometime labelled) does not add to 'the fun'. At six feet in height, I am not 'large'; nor am I tiny.  When the dimensions for seats and the space between seats were determined, foremost in the designers minds was not the comfort of passengers of my stature and larger.  This discomfort has happened on previous trips; but this time, the image of sardines in a small can became vivid.  After the couple hours flight to Toronto, the 'real fun' began with the five hour jaunt to Vancouver.  I had remembered it as more like  10-12 hours, but a check of the itinerary corrected the 'fun' distortion.

     The time on the ship went well overall.   Upon disembarking, the 8+  hour bus ride to Denali added more  posterior challenges.  The next day, the six or  so hours on a bus 'safari' into the Park were mitigated by the beauty of Denali (Mt. McKinley) and the numerous wildlife sightings.  The most comfortable and spacious ride of the entire time was the four hour train ride back towards Anchorage.

Best ride of entire trip

 Even so, that journey required yet another couple of hours on a bus (only slightly larger than airplane seating accommodations).

     Now it was time to 'get home' and I did not realize how much 'fun' lay in store.  Perhaps there should be a prohibition of persons over seventy years of age riding the 'Red Eye', late night flights. Looking for a place in the overhead bins for our carry-ons, I missed but my wife overheard a Flight Attendant  say, "Get your hands off our stuff."  Perhaps not a good portent of things to come.
There were thirty-two and one-half rows of  seats; we were on Row 33 . . . just in front and across from the toilets and maybe five feet from the Flight attendants gathering area.  And, they gathered --- often, and not quietly.  There was little sleep during those six plus hours. 

    But the most 'fun' of the entire trip was still to come. When we reached Chicago, we learned from the family in front of us that their flight number  to our common destination differed from ours and that there were only a couple of minutes in departure times from a gate  different from ours. In that our flight had been booked several months  prior to theirs, we sought clarification from ticket agents.  The initial response was that indeed there were two nearly concurrent flights to Raleigh.  When I approached the ticket counter, the agent told me that she was about to begin the boarding for a flight and please come back in ten minutes.  When her task was completed and I returned to the counter, she told me that she couldn't assist me and to return when another agent arrived.  A check of the departure board provided no definitive clarification.  In the meantime, she and a couple of her co-workers stood at the station and seemingly enjoyed talking about how they had dealt with an obnoxious person on the previous flight,

    In time, another agent appeared to be setting up for the flight to Raleigh-Durham.  What transpired next was inexcusable.  Before I could even make my request for clarification, she launched into a condescending diatribe ("I'm not talking to you. I don't have to talk to you until one hour before the flight leaves. Check the departure board")  There was no one else there asking for her time and assistance.   Well, neither she nor any other agent was there until twenty-five minutes before boarding time. As of yet, we did not know the status of our flight, time, gate,when we could expect to be home, etc.  Again, she was surly. We learned that we were at the correct location when she tersely asked for my photo ID, then my wife's.  She muttered something to the effect that our original flight number was now  for a flight to Dallas. I never bothered to check that out. (Confirming that  small piece of data took about ten seconds.)When she took our I.D. cards prior to printing the boarding passes, she virtually slammed them down onto the desk.  Another passenger, after dealing with her, said to no one in particular,  "so much for customer service !"

Is this the part where we have 'Fun' ??

        For next year's vacation, I am lobbying for  camping in our backyard.  In that way, the only airborne entities of concern will be the mosquitoes.

     Satchel