CHAPTER 10 TEN ON A 777 FOR THREE DAYS

This chapter sets up a running joke throughout the book about pecan pie. At least I hope the story is memorable enough that the reader picks up on my future refrences to changing a topic of discussion by asking, “Is that pecan pie?”

Our flight to Denver left Dulles at 0910, meaning a check-in on the plane at 0810 and a pick up at the hotel at 0630 hours. Now convert that to my body’s time zone in California and I am now waking up at 2:30 in the morning (5:30 in Dulles). Fortunately, I had been tired the night before and was able to get to bed early, so I was fairly well rested for the flight to Denver. I was the first one in the van and took a seat in the last row next to the window. The others slowly filed in and Gloria sat next to me with first class David on the other side of her.

I am setting this up for what turned out to be a memorable morning for all of us, and one that I would think about every time I would go to IAD since. While it was intended to be an innocent eye opener to get everyone awake, everyone in the van seemed to take it more seriously. Here is what happened.

First class David was one of the few flight attendants I have encountered who was a supporter of George (Dubya) Bush for president. Clinton was still making headlines with expensive Manhattan office choices and not being clear on what furniture was his to take from the White House. So there we were, sitting on this van as the sun is rising in cold, damp Washington when David decided to bring the subject up.

David made a comment about Clinton being the president for the lower class people in America, soliciting a few groans from the others. I could see that, at this hour, and by the way the rest of us seemed to feel, we were heading down a very dangerous road. I often have a problem keeping my opinion to myself, especially when I know the other person is wrong! But seriously, I know not to bring up religion or politics with strangers or co-workers. It would take all that I had to hold my tongue and I did so for as long as I could. But as he continued, I finally let a comment slip out about our new president, Bush. And being a typical Saggitarian, I knew it was a mistake before I had finished the final syllable.

One head slumped forward, a few eyes looked heavenward, and two ladies slowly turned to watch the mess in the back row unfurl. I realized I should have kept my mouth shut, but it was too late and I had shaken the beast. But I held my tongue after doing so, yet he would continue.

On his lap was a brown paper bag and as he was stirring the pot of emotions with his political ignorance, he took out a white Styrofoam container. As he got settled into his one-man debate, and while putting down President Clinton, I could see he was preparing to eat a slice of pecan pie saved from last night’s dinner. While I have a hard time keeping my opinions to myself, I can be a wizard at changing conversations. As the others began to glare and sigh heavily, I asked David what he was eating.

“Pecan pie, I got it yesterday and thought it would make a good breakfast.”

“Run with it Scott,” I told myself. Then I continued before he could, “Oh, I just got back from Texas last week,” which I had, “I was driving around the Hill Country with my dad looking at wineries. While I was in Fredericksburg, we stopped for dinner at this great German food place and I got a slice of homemade pecan pie that was to die for. I really miss living in Texas sometimes. There’s nothing like a good pecan pie.”

Gloria was either in on my scheme or genuinely interested in wineries. She asked why I was looking at them and shifted her body towards me, putting her back to David. She was eager to get the question in before he could go no with his rants against Clinton. We were then able to successfully steal the conversation to Texas wineries and my dad’s passing interest in growing grapes. Other discussions immediately picked up in front of us, which was odd, since these rides are typically very quiet. David was now eating his pie and leaving the rest of us to our own devises.

Later that night I would be thanked for my heroic efforts in saving everyone’s day by more than one person who was in that van. But this is not where the fun ends.

We arrived at the airport a little early and people started to stray off in different directions in pursuit of different needs before meeting at the plane. We would have to brief once more and carry out our safety checks. Some had a need for caffeine and sought the local Starbucks. Others were in pursuit of breakfast at the fast food place.

First class David was walking next to me as we entered the concourse, “Hey, buy me a cup of coffee?”

I looked over at him to make sure I was correct in assuming he was talking to me. He was. My reply was a mixture of a chuckle and a sharp, “No.”

“Awe, come on,” he pleaded, like a small child.

“Tell you what, I’ll buy you a cup on the plane,” knowing we would brew coffee right away and that it wouldn’t cost me a thing. (Yeah, I’m cheap.)

“You, know, I was offended by your comments about Bush this morning,” he told me. “Don’t you think you should make it up to me?”

At this point I didn’t quite know if he was kidding or serious, but I almost fell over. If anyone should be offended…well, it shouldn’t be him, that’s for sure. I looked over at him and he was not laughing. But either way, I decided I could play along with the best of them.

“If you can’t handle other people’s opinions about things, you shouldn’t be putting yours out there. You had better get used to dealing with other opinions, and I don’t feel at all bad that you didn’t like mine. I think you were out numbered and maybe it’s you who should be buying all of us breakfast!”

Well, either he had been kidding, or he played it off well, since he next admits, “I’m just kidding. I just do things like that to try to get people to buy things for me. Sometimes it actually works.”

“Well, not with me, buddy!” Now we both laughed, but I just wanted to get away from him.

To give the whole situation some levity, I chimed in that it was an interesting trick and that I would have to try it sometime, even though I would never stoop to that level. He veered off to get coffee while I kept walking to the gate. As I walked ahead, my eyes squinted in a vain attempt to make any sense of what had just transpired between us. I looked back to see him standing in line reading the menu board high on the wall.