Hold that plane!
Picture this: The LCD clock in my colleague Claude's car reads 4:35. After battling heavy downtown Montreal and suburban rush-hour traffic caused by Madonna / Formula 1 / St. Jean Baptiste long weekend we find ourselves barely moving on the departures on-ramp to Pierre Trudeau International airport. Best of all, my flight leaves at 5:00.
Claude turns to me and says "This looks really bad. We're going to be here a LONG time, you better make a run for it buddy..."
So then and there, I hopped out of the car. The cabbie behind us instantly honked his horn while shaking his head. "You can't stop here!" he screamed in his poor English. I was impeding his 1 inch per second progress, so he was MAD. I walked up to his window, screamed "Ahhh hooligans, Merdes Alors!!!" while pointing a gun hand gesture to his head. "Bang! I'm gangsta, I'm gangsta..." I said in a heavy faux-Asian accent as I ran back to the trunk.
I grabbed my luggage and ran. It was a scene straight out of the Amazing Race! My briefcase slung over my shoulder bounced violently against my body, and the the wheels of my suitcase coarsely skipped along the concrete as I sprinted. Beads of sweat fell from my forehead in the 30 degrees (Celsius britches) sun.
After what felt like running for a week through the desert, I finally arrived inside the terminal....
**insert record screeching to a halt sound here**
The Check-in line was huge! The automated self check-in booths were no were to be found. I was certainly going to miss my flight. But then I noticed the ladies in the First Class / Special Needs lines were sitting idle.
I adjusted my collar and wiped away my sweat. Standing up straight I walked over to the counter with purpose. "Hi-how are you?" I said in my fake-I'm-so-friendly voice (my voice usually jumps a few octives to almost flamer levels when I break this out). "Wow, it's a hot one out there. You're so lucky to have air conditioning in here, look at how perfect your hair is." The lady blushed and laughed.
Needless to say, she checked me in with no questions -- even with my economy class ticket, and let me know that I could still possibly make my plane! I had about five minutes to make it to my gate. I had to get on this plane, because all other flights were booked solid for two days straight. I had things to do this weekend, and I wasn't going to spend it Montreal (as much as I'd love too). All I had to do was run to the other end of the terminal and pass through security, and then I was home free!
As I again ran through the airport all that played through my head was that song from "Home Alone" when the family was running through terminal building.
It was all in vain though. When I finally reached the security check point, there was a sea of people. The wait to get into the actaul security processing area was over a one-hour.
It was an great attempt though, but I was going to miss this plane.
Wait a second? I'm me. I don't lose. I don't go down like that son.I looked around quickly. Then pretended to hobble and struggle with my luggage. I approached the person at the front of the security line. When she turned to ask me if she could help me, in the saddest most pathetic voice I broke this gem out: "Hi, I'm sorry to trouble you but I'm very sick. My plane leaves in a few minutes, and I must be on that plane. I missed my Dialysis session last week, and I have a 7:00pm session in Toronto. I don't feel well at all. I think I may die if I don't get on that plane..." (at which point I let out a few tears).
Plus, me... wait in line? WTF? Since when did **I** ever wait in a line? I couldn't believe I actually considered standing in a line. Ugh. I used to be so cool.. now look at me...
How could I get ahead of this line? Hmmm...
And then like "Eurkea" I came up with a brilliant idea! BRILLIANT!!!
The security lady freaked out! And when I say freaked out, I mean "FREAKED OUT" -- as she kept saying "Oh my God, Oh my God.."
She whisked me past the line and into the airport security check. She got on her radio and started calling all sorts of people. I don't even think she even noticied me having an Evangalista fit at the baggage screener because his ass was taking so long to look at my carry-on gear and laptop with his Xray scanner thing. I also threw a single one dollar coin at the attendant because as I rushed away from the security check point he called me back because I left a dollar in the tray! "You called me back for a dollar? What's wrong with you! If it's so valubable to waste my time, YOU KEEP IT. IT'S ALL YOURS! ENJOY YOURSELF" -- it was extra funny because the nice American couple in line behind me were all confused and scared by my mini-faux-breakdown (it's all an act people.. relax!)
Anyhow, just as I started to make my way to the gate, the security lady emerged with some man in one of those airport golf cart things. And yes, they actually drove me to my gate, and had me placed on my plane in the nick of time.
I felt like such an idiot, but I made my plane!
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