Yesterday, I traveled back to Mississippi with the kids. Anticipating a real battle, I was on pins and needles. I needed some levity as we drove up to the airport.
"Hey Luke, can you say, 'Don't call me Shirley?'" I asked.
"Hey Luke, can you say, 'Don't call me Shirley?'" I asked.
"Don't caw me Shirwey," he replied.
"Perfect," I said, "If you say that to the pilot today, I'll put an extra $100 in your college savings plan this month."
Aside from Luke telling the TSA agent and me "no" when he was told to get out of the stroller, we had a very smooth start to our trip. As we were boarding, I reminded Luke what he was supposed to say to the pilot and he told me he was too scared.
When we got to Atlanta, it came time to board the plane. Because only three people want to fly into Tupelo, Mississippi on any given day, we flew in a puddle jumper, which means we had to climb down two flights of stairs. I didn't know this until I gave the ticket agent my boarding pass and she told me I'd need to take the kids out of the stroller and collapse it before I went down the stairs.
"No problem," I said, "I'm going to need someone to help me down the stairs, please."
"There isn't anyone. You're just going to have to do it yourself," she said. I'm sensing a pattern here. Delta employees in Atlanta aren't exactly striving for success. Two weeks ago, a ticket agent told me that it was tough luck that Luke and I weren't seated together, and he had a line full of other people to help, so I'd just have to figure the seat thing out on my own.
"That's ridiculous," I said, "I have a two-year-old, a baby, a heavy double stroller, and two bags. Surely someone can help me. You provide assistance to those in wheelchairs, and I can't physically get all of this by myself. Someone needs to help me."
"I can't leave the gate," she said.
"THEN CALL SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP ME," I argued, looking around at a terminal full of airline employees with nothing to do.
A pilot who was standing around heard our exchange, and maybe sensing that I was about to explode, stepped in. "I'll carry your stroller down," he offered cheerfully. He took George while I collapsed the stroller, and we went on our way. Boy, do I love pilots.
Thinking hard about preparing for his future, it was then that Luke looked up and told him, "Don't caw me Shirwey." The reaction was everything you'd imagine it would be. I guess we're out $100 now.
I think the exchange gave Luke a whole new boldness about talking to strangers, because as we were getting ready to deplane, the man in front of us was snorting and sniffing so loud. Luke looked at him and remarked, "You sound like Wilbur." Wilbur, as in, Zuckerman's Famous Pig.
I hate Delta and American Airlines. I refuse to give them any more of my money. What a bitch!
ReplyDeleteDid he call him Wilbur or Wilfur? I can't stand Delta or American either. I won't go into my rant here, but, I can't get over the American EMPLOYEE who commented to us about having to help a 90-year-old woman in a wheelchair, "Well, I guess you have to give them what they want." Well, YES, because it is your JOB and they paid MONEY so you would do that.
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