by: C.J. Van Becelaere
| It was a pleasant enough
Thursday's afternoon, all things being considered. The sun shone,
the wind but breathed, and an excursion lay ahead.
Then, it struck - a jam of traffick most heinous. No worse time could have been chosen for such an occurrence, as any delay of our arrival at the airport could not be
accommodated by our itinerary; absolutely no slack time had been taken into account.
Such holes and spaces in the pattern of traffick as presented themselves did I use, but to little avail, for the cause seemed to be hopeless. Nonetheless did I persevere in my efforts, and they seemed, for a time, to be bearing some fruit. Then, just as all seemed possible, a stop at a competing airline was required - Continental, it seemed, must wait for Republic.
Rushing, baggage-laden, for
the check-in counter, there was a breathless moment
"Run," said the attendant,
"Run for the United counter, for there, even as we speak, are they readying
yet another flight bound for Denver, your destination! I'll call ahead
with your reservation!" And run we did.
"We are here!" was our nearly
inaudible sigh, "And in time for the United flight to Denver!"
Imagine, dear reader, if
you can, our despair and consternation at this pronouncement; apparently
we were not to gain Denver, let alone Santa Fe, our final goal,