The End of the Story--Monday...

Monday dawns, bright and early. And I do mean EARLY. My wake-up call jangles at 6 am, which means I got almost 4 hrs of sleep. I stagger from bed, anticipating a nice, hot wake-up shower, when memory collides with hopes. Ah yes. The only thing I'm going to get from my shower is lukewarm dribble. I immediately call front desk. "The shower on/off handle is installed backward," I tell them. "Can you please have it fixed today so I can get hot water with pressure? If not, I'll need a different room."

"No problem," say they. "We'll have it fixed right away." Finally, good news.

* I make it to the office for the mtg. What's that? It's been pushed back to 9? So you're saying I could have had an extra hour of sleep. But I'm not bitter. Not a bit.
Now...where's the coffee??

* First meeting goes from 9 to noon. Grab a quick lunch and on to next meeting from noon to 4, then next meeting from 4-6:30. Then back to my temporary desk to deal with a day's worth of emails and calls. Hit hotel around 8 pm, ready for a hot shower. Which would have been possible if they'd fixed the thing! Water still lukewarm, still dribbling. On/off handle still backward. I draw a deep breath and call the front desk again.

"Oh, that's right. We'll send someone right up."

* I now am in desperate need of comfort food, so order my fav: Chinese. Arrives around 9 pm. What hasn't arrived is anyone to fix shower. Call desk again. "I need a different room," says I.
"We'll send him right up," says they and the phone goes dead.

I hang up and there is, indeed, a knock on my door. The guy comes in and walks to the shower muttering, "It's usually a setting on the shower head that makes it hard to get water." I start to tell him that's not the problem, when he reaches in and messes with the shower head, turns on the water, and grins at me in triumph when water comes out nice and strong. I stand there. Staring. His grin fades.

"It's not getting water that's the problem," says I. "Stick your hand in there."

He does so. Frowns. "It's cold."

To my credit, I don't utter the "DUH!" that screams in my head. "The on/off handle is installed backwards," says I.

He examines it, turns it this way and that, and turns to me. "It's backwards."

"Yes, it is," I reply, too weary and hungry by then to be angry.

"It'll need to be reinstalled."

"Yes, it will," I say, now somewhat faint from hunger.

He turns it off, then eases it on, feeling for hot water. When dribble turns warm, he says, "Is that warm enough?"

Really? You want me to say I'll shower for a week in a dribble? Are you out of your-- Breathe. Relax. I step forward and feel. "No. And there's not enough pressure."

He pushes it a smidge. "How about that?"

I don't even stick my hand out this time. Just fix him with a look. "No."

"I'll get someon--"

"No."

He stops, stares at me.

I grab my suitcase and start packing. "I need a different room."

"But we can--"

"--get me a new room." I straighten. Look at him. I don't raise my voice, don't let anger out. Just look at him. "Now."

Okay, so something came through ( ) because the poor man pales slightly and steps back. "I'll see about that new room right now."

Forty-five minutes later, I'm in my new room (which I know has a working shower because the guy who came to "fix" the one in my old room makes a beeline for the shower in my new room and makes sure it's working, bless his pea-pickin' heart), warming up my Chinese food. So what if it's past 10 pm. I'm hungry. I settle onto the couch, take a bite, waiting for those flavors I love to ease my tension...and grimace. Two more bites and it's confirmed. Worst Chinese food I've ever had. Totally disgusting. How lovely that I'd ordered extra so I'd have dinner the next night ready and waiting when I got back to the hotel. Everything goes in the trash. I eat the apple I'd brought on the plane and go to bed. Begging God for better days ahead.

Happily, those better days arrived. The rest of my trip went really well, as did the rest of my meetings. And the flight home last Saturday went like clockwork. Both flights left when they were supposed do, and I landed at home without mishap or delay, utterly delighted to be home.

So what, you ask, was the purpose of all this?? Well, I actually have an answer for you.

I've had really bad travel days before. I'm ashamed to say I didn't always handle them. I'm way too prone, when I get tired and hungry and frustrated, to let my emotions rule. This time, though, all that was held in check. Every time an unkind tone or word inched toward my lips, I remembered those people on the plane with me from Medford to Denver, and then Denver to N'ville. Those folks who were also delayed and inconvenienced, but who handled it with humor. (Yes, sometimes the humor was just this side of desperation, but it was humor all the same.) Their attitudes stayed positive and that made it all bearable for all of us. By God's grace, their examples stuck with me and for once I didn't give in to irritation. I didn't focus on me and my woes, thereby making things worse, not just for me, but for everyone. Even when I'd hit the wall with the hotel and told them I needed a new room, I didn't do so in anger. I was firm, but not angry.

So though those were some of the worst travel days I've ever had, they lack something that past travel days have had in abundance.

Regret.

I can look back on those days and, as horrid as they were, they don't weigh down today. I don't have to wish, deep in my heart, that I could apologize to anyone. Rather, I can smile at the moments of shared laughter. I can thank God for the glimpses of shared mercy. And I can even feel good about times I reached out to help or comfort others. There's no bitter taste in my mouth--or spirit--for things I said or did. Just the succulent flavor of grace and gratitude.

My next trip will come in about three weeks, and while I don't like leaving home again so soon, it's okay. Because I've seen what God can do when you let Him, and I know that even if more Horrid Days await, I don't have to go through them alone. Nor do I have to walk away from them defeated.

By His grace, you and I can meet those days determined to show kindness and grace. And if we do that, no matter how horrid a day or experience, we can walk away in peace and freedom.

Wishing both for you today.

Karen

A Tale of Two Cities...Four Airports...One Car Rental...and One Hotel

Brace yourselves.

Once upon a time there was a happy-go-lucky editor who traveled. A lot. Who, when she began her adventure in publishing, loved to travel. Who, in the last year alone, sailed into the wild blue on fourteen--count 'em, FOURTEEN--long trips. (Who, in the last few years, no longer loves it, but deals.) But in her 26 years in publishing, our weary traveler found a flight partner that always treated her well: United. Yes, others have bewailed United's many faults, but for our intrepid traveler, this airline seldom let her down. They were her heroes in the sky.

Our traveler had actually been home for two whole months, but last Sunday saw her first trip of the new year arrive. And so she arose in the wee hours of Sunday morning (4:15 AM!), loaded her bags into her trusty van, and, her sweet hubby at the wheel, made her way to the Rogue Valley International Airport, where she boarded her plane and sailed off into the skies. Her flight landed, right on time, in Denver, where she caught her lovely direct connection to Nashville, sailed into the skies again, and landed at her destination without a single problem. Ah, life was good.

Or it would have been, had that been the case. Sigh... Now let me give you the real story. Part 1 today, the rest to come. Yeah, it's been a long couple of days...

But first, let me 'splain a bit about the Rogue Valley International Airport (RVIA), the airport I fly out of (out of which I fly...? Whatever). It's small. Okay, maybe tiny is a better word. Roughly 30,000 sq. ft housing a gift shop, a coffee kiosk, a few car rental desks, the ticket counters for United, Delta, SkyWest, and a charter business. Oh, and the gate area. Yup, one. You went through the small security line to the holding area, where all the airlines loaded through two doors. Although, we DID get an airbridge a few years ago. And the bathroom was a nice addition to the gate area a couple years back. That way you didn't have to go through security again to get back in after leaving to use the restroom. And hey, that coffee pot in the holding area was usually kept full. Usually.

Well! All that changed this month. RVIA built a new terminal! Complete with separate gates for the different airlines, streamlined security, arrival and departure boards, a restaurant both outside and within the gate area, and even two floors! We got an escalator, folks! There's even a nice observation deck for friends and family to watch the planes depart. So my flight on Sunday came about a week after the new airport terminal opened. Fun to see all the improvement.

Pity those improvements didn't also apply to their procedures.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m., which meant I was up at 4:15. That's A.M., folks! I got to the sparkly new terminal, walked in, and was met by a line almost as long as our fancy new 100K sq.ft., $35 million terminal. The check-in kiosks weren't working. Well, not until I'd waited in line for a half hour. And the two people at the check-in desk--TWO--moved the line along at a snail's pace. Happily, two more United folks joined the fray at check-in as flight departure times approached. Unhappily, the line moved even more slowly because they fixed the check-in kiosks and those folks got to jump in front of those of us in line to get their bag tags. But I'm not bitter. I'm NOT!

I finally made it through check-in, then went on to security. That actually went well, so I was finally in the new gate area. Fun, fun! Even a big, fancy coffee place waiting for me. Coffee clutched in hand, I made my way to the sparkly new restroom. Hmmm. Three stalls. One of which wasn't working. Okaaaay...more lines. More waiting. Got out to the waiting area, and waited some more. Listened as the United folks radioed back and forth about why they weren't ready to load us yet. Scheduled loading time sailed past. And still we sat. Twenty minutes later, we were finally lined up and ready.

To walk outside. Down some icy steps. And make our way around the old terminal (in 29 degree weather, thank you. SO glad I packed my coat. In my suitcase...). Apparently plans are to raze the old building. Just hasn't been done yet. Happily I survived the frigid hike and sank into my seat. My aisle seat in the bulkhead, which I always try to get because of the Fibromyalgia that makes flying painful. , they had a little problem getting the bags for the flight. A 45-minute problem. Guess whose time between connections in Denver was 50 minutes? Guess whose flight landed in Denver 5 min. after her connection took wing. Yuh-huh. Still not bitter. Really.

Twenty minutes at the United desk in Denver, during which time I tried to comfort a woman who burst into tears when she was told there was no way to get her to her destination by the time she needed to be there--I had my new boarding passes. Yes, PASSES! My direction connection to Nashville didn't happen again until 7 pm, which would put me in at 11 pm, 9 hours later than my original arrival time of 1:47 pm. Hence, the new itin sent me through Chicago, where I'd have an hour to dash to my connection flight to N'ville. Oh goody. It's SO easy to get from one end of O'Hare to the other... I pointed out to the agent that that wasn't much time. She gave me that bright customer-service smile and chimed, "Oh, you'll have plenty of time."

A quick and pointed response crossed my mind--and was summarily relegated to the now-crowded back recesses with the rest of the violent urges I'd stuffed away that day. I smile and say, "I'll trust you." Then make my way to the waiting area. To wait.

So, you may ask, did you make it? When did you get to Nashville? Well! Stay tuned, and I'll tell you all about it. But before I sign off, let me tell you what surprised me most about this day. Not the problems. Not even the lack of customer service or care. What surprised me was the attitudes of those with me on those planes.

I've had terrible flights before. Long delays. Frustrating rerouting. And almost always the people who are suffering along with me are one thing:

ANGRY!

On Sunday, though, I didn't hear one angry word. Not from anyone. In fact, we found ourselves laughing. (Okay, at times it verged on hysterical, but still!) And, as I did with the crying woman, I saw people trying to comfort others who were distressed. It was kind of amazing. And it was more encouraging that I can say.

I learned something that I've always known, but never seen demonstrated in such abundance: Attitude is contagious. The old adage (shared with me by the venerable Steve Laube) "Don't get emotionally involved in things you can't physically change" was evident in those people's actions and reactions. Instead of fuming over what should be, how they were being inconvenienced, how terrible this or that was, they commiserated, they comforted where they could, and they were patient with the airline personnel and each other. While I had moments of wanting to scream, I never gave in. And, more often than not, I found myself just shaking my head and laughing along with the others. Rueful laughter, to be sure. But laughter all the same. Which left me, at the end of the day, in a pretty good mood.

And when you hear the rest of the story, you'll see what a true miracle that was!



Karen