Page 27 of Playing With Matches
Perfect.
After I file all the necessary paperwork, the lost luggage lady advises me to keep my phone handy.
“They’ll call to arrange delivery of your bag.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
“This airport is about to shut down till further notice. Buy some new clothes at your resort,” she looks at my wet khakis and polo with a complete lack of empathy or concern. “I don’t know when you’ll have your stuff.”
“Fine,” I grit my teeth. I’ll just have to get my current clothes cleaned. The sooner the better. They must have laundry service at the resort, no? The show is supposed to start taping tomorrow.
I’ve been flying for almost sixteen hours now. They couldn’t even get a direct flight from Seattle to Florida. I had a three-hour layover in Texas and another three hour hours in Florida in a terminal that was under construction and standing room only. All I want to do is take a nice hot shower. And a nap.
“We are closing the airport, Sir. Do you need to arrange for a ride?” The lost-luggage lady seems impatient to get rid of me now.
This is when I notice that I am one of only a handful of people left in the terminal and almost everyone else works here. All the tourists and hugging high-fivers have vanished into waiting vans or disappeared with their sign-holding chauffeurs.
There’s apparently nobody here to meet me. No driver. No car from the resort. Nothing.
I check my phone. No signal.
“Hey, can I use your phone to call the resort?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t let you use the phone.”
“Can you call the Peaches resort for me then? Someone was supposed to meet me here.” I say, exasperated.
She eyes me dispassionately, and considers my request, tapping one long, cheetah-painted talon on her ancient, corded phone. Then she finally relents and picks up the receiver. She consults a printed directory on a sticker in her drawer and dials a number slowly, holding the receiver aloft between us like a speaker. The line rings and rings, and finally after ten rings the call is automatically answered and funneled directly into muzak. She hangs up.
“Nobody there,” she says.
“It’s a five-star resort,” I argue. “Somebodyhas got to be there.”
“Big storm,” she shrugs. “They must be busy.”
This is getting ridiculous.
“Could you at least call me a cab?” I ask, slinging my tech backpack over one shoulder.
“No cabs. It’s raining, so there might be flash floods,” she says.
Ok then.
“Right, so apparently, I live here in the airport now? You want to show me to my room?” I snark. The overhead lights go off, and I hear the rattle of the steel grate as the one shop in the airport is being locked up. ”Oh great, next you’re going to tell me no electricity. What the hell do you expect me to do exactly? Where am I supposed to go?”
I look at my phone, and there is still no signal. The battery is getting low, too. Did the production team really forget to send someone to get me?
“I don’t know what to tell you. You can’t stay here.” The luggage lady turns off her computer and reaches under her desk for an umbrella.
“This is flipping ridiculous!” I shout. “First you lose my luggage on your shitty flight, then you refuse to help me to get where I’m going? What is it you want me to do? Conjure up a magical boat to ferry me to my destination?”
I hate feeling so helpless. I’m remembering all the times I was stranded as a kid, due to my mom not showing up because she had to deal with my dad. He was a bit of a tropical storm himself.
“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down or I’ll have to call the authorities,” the luggage lady threatens, and I have to wonder if that might not be a good thing. Maybe they could drive me to the resort. Then again, the idea of spending the night in a mosquito - or worse,lizard- infested cell on a cold, hard bench is not appealing.
“Fine,” I say. I open my wallet and pull out a hundred-dollar bill waving it around at whoever’s still here that wants to make some fast cash.
“All right, Folks. I’m looking for a ride,” I say loudly. “It’s only around five miles to the resort where I’m staying, and I have no suitcases. I’m ready to go right now. Surely someone wants to take me?”
