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Scarborough's nine hours on the runway
After 9 hours, 3 movies and many bags of peanuts, the flight was cancelled
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Joe's long strange trip Feb 15: MSNBC's Joe Scarborough gives the real deal on what it is like to be stuck on a plane on the tarmac for 9 hours. Scarborough_Country |
Late one afternoon in the summer of 1978, my family and I were rushing back from Pensacola Beach to get my Dad’s younger brother home for a big date. Uncle Chuck was not only a good bit younger than my dad, he was also a heck of a lot calmer than anyone in my family. While we were screaming, sweating and swearing at every red light that stopped us, Uncle Chuck sat in the back seat with a peaceful smile on his face. Since Chuck was from California, I automatically suspected the Evil Weed was keeping him cool. But Chuck was always calm, almost Zen-like. So I finally put it down to a personality defect.
“How can you stay so calm at a time like this?” I asked in an exasperated voice.
His answer made the episode stick in my mind over the chaos of my last 28 years.
“What’s the use of worrying, Joey? It won’t get me there a second sooner.”
Left Coast freak.
Chuck was right, of course, but his lesson is almost impossible to teach Type A personalities who foolishly believe we can control every phase of our lives.
But Uncle Chuck’s lesson went through my mind the other day as I sat on Delta Flight 693 for nine straight hours. We were a long way from that hot Florida summer of ’78, but it was Valentine's Day, and like Chuck, there were a lot of guys on that plane who were going to be late for a hot date that night.
We began boarding at 7:30 AM. I grabbed a quick cup of coffee on the way to the airport and figured I’d have breakfast when I landed in Atlanta a few hours later. But soon after settling snugly into seat 41E, I began to realize this was going to be a trip to remember. With ice pellets belting against the 757’s windows, I found myself stuck in a middle seat between a man, a woman and a dog.
Dear God.
The Westminster Dog Show had just ended at Madison Square Garden the night before and apparently Delta Air Lines let it be known that Flight 693 would be the airplane of choice for canines waiting to escape Gotham. As I closed my eyes, the Dog Whisperer seated next to me began breathing sweet nothings into her little critter’s left ear until the pilot came on the intercom to tell dogs and humans alike that we would be sitting at the gate waiting for a break in the weather.
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