D.C....

D.C….
“So close. And yet… so far away.” My dad laughed as he gestured to the row of seats in front of us.
We’re sitting on a Boeing 737 with “non stop service to Washington D.C.” as was told to us by a rather chipper flight attendant, just one row behind first class. It’s 7:15am on Saturday. I’ve been awake since 4:30am, soy latte in hand, trying to remember my name.
I erupt into laughter. “I don’t think we’ll ever fly first class on a domestic flight again.”
“Nope. Not with all the frequent flyer upgrades.” he replied. Dad has worked for Delta Air Lines almost 34 years. We’ve had all sorts of adventures with flying. It’s getting harder nowadays with full flights and upgrades to even get on the plane never mind first class.
“International is still good though.” I point out.
“Yeah, that’s usually a given.”
“That’s all that matters! I’ll sit in the back of the bus on domestic flights if it means being up front to jump the pond!”
He and I sit in a comfortable silence all the way to D.C. I stare out the window for a little while and think about what would I be doing if Rob were still here. We’d probably be on our way to Charleston, singing something retarded or laughing at something silly, holding hands.
“What do you want to do first?” Daddy asks bringing me back to reality when we’re about to land.
“Being that it’s going to rain sometime today, let’s go to Arlington Cemetery first.” I reply.
“Ok.”
We land smoothly and quickly exit. The sun is out for now. After figuring out the Metro ticket machines we’re off.
“This way daddy!” I call out to him while he looks at a map. He follows me up the escalator an onto an arriving train.
When we exit we walk around until finding the entrance to the cemetery. I want to see it, I do but I’m feeling a little squeamish about death at the moment.
“I was twelve the last time I was here.” Dad pipes up. “I was here on a school trip and fell on some cement benches in this open amphitheater.”
“What?!” I exclaim. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, I have this scar right here.” he pointed to his left eyebrow. “I was lucky I didn’t hit my eye. I had to get stitches.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I was acting crazy. Instead of walking down the aisles correctly, I was walking down the benches and slipped and fell.”
I’m trying to imagine my very reserved father “acting crazy” and I can’t help but laugh.
“I had blood all over the place. My teacher almost passed out!“ he laughed. “They took me to this place people aren‘t supposed to go. I think it‘s where the guards are able to change clothes or something.”
“That‘s out of control! Let’s go back to you acting crazy. Define that please.” I giggle.
“You know. I was just being a kid.”
“No, I don’t know about that.” I laugh and hug him.
We walk up to see Kennedy’s grave which is interesting. Dad tells me the President’s assassination happened shortly after that trip he took.
We walk a little while longer to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We approach as the changing of the guard is happening. I am fascinated. These guys are out there in full uniform, no matter what, guarding this grave site. When that is finished we walk back to the train and head to the Natural History Museum. Again I’m am fascinated with all things science oriented. We walk through huge mammal exhibits, gem stone exhibits and planet exhibits. Neither of us say much, just reading and observing, avoiding random kids running around.
We’re both starving by the time we’re finished and stop at the café downstairs for lunch.
“Where to now?” he asks finishing up a cookie.
“Hmm. Well, I’d like to see the Holocaust Museum but we may not have time. Plus if it’s going to start raining we may need to head to the airport.”
“It’ll be fine. Where’s the Holocaust Museum?” he asks.
‘Of course it’ll be fine.’ I think to myself. ‘I’m with him.’
I pull out my map and we figure out where to go and we’re off again, walking down Constitution Ave then down 14th until we find the museum. It’s huge and packed as we open the huge glass doors that line the front of the building. We make our way through metal detectors and into a huge atrium where people are swarming and children are screaming.
“Popular place.” Dad observes.
“Uh huh.” I agree. I hate crowds and immediately want to walk out the door and save this place for another time.
“Let’s go over there.” Dad pointed to what looked like a room. It was a well put together exhibit of this one child who survived the concentration camps. After walking through it we notice the rain has started. It’s coming down in sideways sheets.
“I’ll bet this delays some flights.” Dad says while looking out a window.
“Oh yeah.” We look at each other and laugh.
We walk up a huge staircase and enter another huge atrium with candles lit. It’s silent and beautiful.
“I think we need to come back on a random Wednesday in January, not on a Saturday after school has let out for the summer.” I smile at my dad.
“Yeah…”
After a little more wandering through chaos the rain stops and we head out for the airport. While on the train it starts up again. When we get to the airport we decide to try for an earlier flight. It’s almost 3:00pm.
“Ok, the 2:55 flight is delayed until 5:00. Let’s see how that one looks.” Dad says as we make our way to the gate.
Of course it’s full.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Let’s just try and list on this one and if we don’t make it, then they’ll roll us over to the next one.” he replies.
I nod and we stand in line at the gate behind a Puerto Rican woman who is standing behind a Chinese couple who are talking to the gate agent trying to change something. Off to the right of them is a 177 year old woman in a wheel chair. Dad and I both observe what’s going on at the counter, unable to hear anything. Fifteen minutes go by.
“What in the world is going on up there?” he asks me.
“No idea.” We continue to wait. My mind begins to wander. I haven’t really thought too much about Rob today and I feel a slight twinge of guilt. I haven’t been in a bad mood either despite my serious lack of sleep and the fact all these flights are delayed as well.
“We’ve been standing here for thirty minutes.” Dad’s voice rings in my ear.
“Lord. What the hell?” I mumble.
“If it’s that big of a deal take ‘em somewhere else!” he exclaims to me.
“The plane is going to take off before we even get up there.” I giggle and we continue to stand.
I dial Rob’s number and he picks up on the third ring.
“Hey.”
“Hey darlin’. How are you?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Ugh. Crazy. I think I might be spending the night at O’Hare tonight.” I reply, dropping my bag on the floor at my feet.
“Really.” his tone is calm.
“Flights are all full and delayed. Weather in Atlanta fucked everything up. Story of my life. I think I’m going to try Cincinnati and then go to Atlanta from there.”
“You can do that?”
“Uh huh. Push comes to horrible shove, if I get stuck in Chicago and the first flight to Atlanta in the morning looks bad, could you pick me up if I can make it to Greenville?”
“Sure. I mean, I was planning on sleeping in tomorrow but I could come get you.”
“Well hopefully that won’t happen. Hopefully a miracle will happen and I’ll fly home from here tonight. I just don’t know when…”
“What could possibly be the problem up there?!” Dad exclaims to me as I watch the 177 year old woman begin to stand from her wheel chair. The Chinese couple are still at the counter. It’s been forty five minutes.
“Look daddy.” I gesture over to the antique leaving her chair. “We’ve been waiting in this line so long that the 177 year old woman in the wheel chair is able to stand now!”
We both start laughing. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.” It’s his turn to gesture to the counter at the Chinese couple.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before!” I nod in the other direction to a woman corn-rowing some dude’s hair.
“Oh, she’s been working on that. You should have seen it earlier. It was all standing out everywhere.” he replied.
“Amazing…” we start laughing again.
Just then the Chinese couple leaves and the Puerto Rican woman who is now flanked by what looks like her mother and sister approach the counter. I’d like to clap for Chinese couple finally getting their issue done and over with but I don’t have the energy.
It looks like another issue is about to arise as I watch the exasperated gate agent try to explain in clear English, mind you, that the delay is weather related and if they miss their flight from Atlanta to Puerto Rico they will have to foot their own hotel bill.
“Either you stay here in D.C. and we book you on a flight tomorrow or you take a chance in Atlanta.” the agent stated.
“Daddy, let’s just board. Screw all this.” I giggle, then see that the woman decided to take a chance at their connection and board. Finally it’s our turn.
“Are you accepting any more stand by passengers?” Dad asks the gate agent.
“No sir, this flight is full.” she replies.
We just stood in line for almost an hour to hear they won’t even list us. Awesome. Plan B.
“Ok, now what?” I ask.
“Let’s go see about the next flight.”
The next one leaves at 6pm. We list on that one and sit. It’s now 4pm. I crack open a book and dad closes his eyes.
“Hey.” he says after a few minutes. “The priority is wrong on the boarding passes. I’m going to go change it.”
“Ok.” I nod.
Thirty minutes go by. No sign of my dad anywhere. The man I’m sitting next to has apparently had too much caffeine. He won’t sit still and his constant movements are registering on the damn Richter Scale. Another fifteen minutes go by with no daddy. My mind takes me back to a story a client told me earlier this week about her daughter’s roommate. My client’s daughter lives in London and received a call from her roommate that she was at Gatwick airport picking her mom up when suddenly her mother dropped dead of a massive heart attack. I had promised myself I wouldn’t freak out with thinking about other people in my life dying after Rob but here I am, about to have a panic attack because my father hasn’t returned. ‘He has our boarding passes.’ I think to myself. ‘…and if something happened I would know about it by now.’
The dude next to me makes another move that registered a nine on the Richter Scale and sent me over the edge. I jumped up, grabbed my purse and set out to find my dad. I wander from gate to gate, restaurant to souvenir store with nothing. He doesn’t have his phone with him and I find myself standing in the middle of the huge corridor that lines and separates the gates from the shops staring at the various people walking by when something at Gate 15 catches my eye. It’s the back of my dad’s head. He’s back at the gate we started at, standing in line.
“Are you serious?!” I squeal, rushing up to him.
He starts laughing. “Back where I started.”
“Why?!” I continue to squeal.
“This flight has more seats on it and is a Delta flight. The other one we were listed on was a Delta carrier. It was smaller and everyone flies on a different priority. They both are taking off at 7.”
“How does that happen?” I ask feeling my panic dissipate.
“It’s not supposed to but they’re both so delayed that that’s what they’ve got to do.”
I nod and we wait.
“Rob!” I squeal into the phone. “I’m getting on this flight!” I’ve been delayed at O’Hare for six hours.
“That’s awesome!”
“Yay! I’m so excited! I called work to tell them I won‘t be in. I‘m going to sleep for as long as possible.”
“I’m proud of you for doing that. You need to sleep.” I hear him smile on the other end. “I’m going to do laundry in the morning then head down. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I can’t wait to see you either.” I grin.
“Ok, I’m going to bed. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Passenger Nipper?” the gate agent pipes up and we approach the counter after getting re-listed and waiting another hour to board. “You can board.” she nods to the open door. Our boarding passes are scanned and we receive little slips of paper with the seat number printed on them. It’s like the airplane lottery. You never know where you’re going to sit. We both look at our seat numbers then at each other as we walk down the narrow passageway that leads to the open door of the aircraft.
“Where are you?” dad asks.
“Two D.” I giggle. “You?”
“Two C. I can’t believe we made it to First Class.”
“Me either!”
We settle into our seats and watch the flight attendants buzz around and get things organized.
“Excuse me sir?” a flaming gay male attendant calls out to a man standing in the aisle a couple of rows behind us. “What’s the hold up?”
“We’re changing seats.” the man replied.
“Ok, let’s hurry it up sir.”
No response. Seconds later the attendant’s voice radiates from the speaker.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please move as quickly as possible. There are connections to be made in Atlanta and the faster you move, the faster we take off. You can sit next to your best buddy just as soon as we take off, but please, for now please take your assigned seats.”
Dad and I look at each other and laugh. Another female attendant goes flying by us to the front of the plane.
“I need soda!” she exclaims to the other attendants. “Hurry! Where is it?”
“What’s problem?” Attendant A asks.
“This passenger back there says he wants soda and he wants it now and to hurry it up!” Attendant B exhales pouring sparking liquid into a glass and racing back to the needy passenger. The peanut gallery up front gathers to watch their co-worker hand over the soda.
Attendant A pipes up. “Hurry it up? I’d be taking my dear sweet time. I saw him board and I knew he’d be a problem. I knew it.”
Again, dad and I look at each other and laugh.
“Everybody’s nerves are shot.” he says quietly to me.
I nod. Finally everything gets settled and just as we’re about to leave the gate the Captain comes on and explains that we can’t leave just yet. Air traffic control says no one is to leave the airport. Huh? No one understands. We’re camped out on the ground another hour before we finally push back and take off. I close my eyes for a little while then feel something moving around my feet. I open my eyes to see dad reaching for my camera in my purse. I watch him take pictures out of the window at the clouds. They’re pink with a huge gray one hovering over. The pink ones are shaped almost like a city skyline. Peering out at these clouds makes me think of Heaven and I wonder what Rob’s doing. I close my eyes again and sleep the rest of the way back to Atlanta.