Planes, Trains, Flipout City
Dateline: Threadgill’s Restaurant, South Austin.
Set-up: Plane from Mexico City to DFW diverted to Houston. See Huts and Cots.
Parked on the Houston tarmac, I slip into a mini-meditation: Cool air in. Warm air out. The exact technique will be highlighted in a later post. But not here, because while the practice was somewhat successful, I can’t claim stellar results.
However, because of the mini-meditation, I resisted leaping out of my seat and informing the entire plane: “You know what the pilot is really saying, don’t you? He’s saying
that you are very likely never going to see your loved ones again. Ever. Oh, I know, he’s saying we’ll only be here an hour and all the connecting flights will be delayed, but don’t believe it. The man is a liar. Remember before we took off and he said we were running a bit late because a passenger needed a piece of luggage removed from the hold of the plane? Well, at that very moment I watched, not one, but two luggage trains pull up to the side of this very plane and load about forty bags. Now, okay, I realize that this means some of you will get your luggage who otherwise would have to wait miserably to go through customs, but we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about the fact that the pilot is a liar. And, from here on out, we can believe nothing!”
MysteryShrink Instant Stress Relief Affirmation:: I, _(your name here)__, have no interest in whether a person is lying or not. No interest. When I get caught up wondering or accusing I am miserable and stressed. Stress can be such a drag. (This is a tough one, especially for parents of teenagers, thus, I will tend to the subject of teen lying more fully in another post.)
Two hours later, we land at DFW. Three hours later, I’m waiting for a possibility to get on a flight to Austin to depart at 2:15 a.m. There are hundreds of us after a storm shut down the airport. I’m number 147 on the Stand-by List. 147. The agent offered me the first confirmed seat she could find. It was the day after tomorrow. Here’s where the cots come in. Did you know that behind those gray room dividers, American Airlines has hundreds of cots? Cots? I think not. 
Okay. I’m a psychologist here. I should have the skills to adapt to this unfortunate and inconvenient change in plans. Should have. I considered making up a disease that had to be medicated in Austin within the next several hours or I just might die. (Ah ha! If you are thinking, “What a lying stinker!” you are not applying the above MysteryShrink Instant Stress Relief.
We were a desperate bunch. Mob mentality. There was crying there was much yelling. Groups of passengers were renting cars for the drive to Austin. Some people had called friends and spouses who were driving up from Austin. And there was always the cot option.
Then I remembered something. Hadn’t I read that if you have Platinum Status, you can be preferentially moved up the Stand By List? I excused my way through the crowd and waved for the agent’s attention. I asked if my status would help me. I was moved to the 5 spot on stand by. Glares of pure hate bored into the back of my head. Hey, I would have flung myself at my back and drug me to the floor and beaten me. . . at least know this,To get elite status you have to go through little adventures like this every other week.
