Leaving America – Pt. II

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS POST:

After about 45 minutes of heading eastward, the captain casually announces that the aircraft is experiencing wingflap difficulty and “Just to be on the safe side, ladies and gentlemen, we will be heading  back to Minneapolis.”

Groans throughout the cabin. Eyes roll, heads rubbed and heavy sighs all around. ‘Oh well,’ I think optimistcally, ‘a hassle is always preferable to crashing.’ Yeah, right. After landing, we are told to remain seated while mechanics set about fixing the problem. There, in that faulty tube, we sit for two very stuffy hours.

“I vant somezing to eat. NOW.”

I shudder to think what a hungry Mrs. Klink might become and keep my gaze out the window. A handful of men atop ladders have out their very best toolkits and are desperately trying to locate the problem. Eventually, I catch one scratching his head and then another shrug his greasy shoulders. I press my forehead against the window and shut my eyes. Mrs. Klink is not going to take this well.

Meanwhile, not a single flight crew member is aboard the craft and anarchy sets in. Adolescents raid the kitchen and began tossing juice cartons to thirsty people with arms raised. Someones finds a box of those paltry peanut snacks and the mob quickly consumes. I was hoping – for entertainment’s sake – that someone would yell: “Let’s trash the place!” and real live pandemonium would set in. No such luck.

A few minutes after eternity, the senior stewardess, Mary, attempted the unsavory task of forcing us to deplane. Take one grumpy traveler, multiply by 350, then try to move herd (plus gear) and you have Mary’s job.

So now it’s past midnight and we are milling around in some forgotten corner of Minneapolis airport, which has the distinction of  being entirely – and strictly – smoke-free. Nevertheless, here are beings at the end of their collective ropes. A small group begins to smoke at the opposite gate and a Dutch woman begins crying and yells at two men who puff away in frustration: “You are those selfish peoples!” she wails, “You care for yourselves only!”

The level of dramatics has even worn thin for the two men who are Italian and who, I can guess, would normally appreciate a loud, public yelling scene. But it’s now 2 a.m. in America, quite far from where they’d like to be. They wave her off like a noisy fly, scrunch their thick moustaches in annoyance and continue to smoke. Dutch lady escapes to another gate, still weeping.

Ultimately, they locate another plane for us to try.

TO BE CONTINUED …