On the Road Again

With just one day back home to rest and do laundry, it's back to the airport again. This morning's visit to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services went very smoothly - courteous, welcoming, even friendly. My work visa was renewed one final time, for two more years.

I seriously wonder if I can last that much longer. When I first started university, I never imagined that globalisation would create a job for me where the world (well, North America mostly) is the "play" ground. An acquaintance of mine is heading off on her own two year adventure this very evening.

Today's flight is to a destination better known for sun than software. That means tourists, and children. Later this month, I'll be travelling with a couple of friends and their one year old son, on his first airplane flight. I'm sure he'll do fine, but if not, I know his parents will have done their best, going above and beyond, and I'll forgive them all. In one sense, I'm envious - I was 12 before I got on a plane which actually left the ground. Until three years ago, air travel remained a special occasion, which only came every few years, totalling no more than 30 flights in all. I suppose I've been making up for that with my present job, with 134 segments (including this one) and counting.

One interesting note for the gender and employment statistics - I think this is the first flight I've taken where all the flight attendants (four) are male. I can only recall one where the captain was female, and that was on an American airline. In the convoluted system of unions and seniority lists, and airline bankruptcies, spinoffs, and mergers which govern Air Canada, I've only seen/heard a couple of female first officers.

The family sitting behind me have a young son and daughter, who are obviously excited to be heading to Florida, and both feel the need to loudly comment on every single thing that happens. Their bribe for a moment's silence: a sugar-laden lollipop. The other woman sitting in my row looks up from her book, and we exchange a knowing glance, and wan smile of chagrin. The kicking of the seat has just started...

Grounded

20:30 MT (2 hours after first announcement of flight delay)

On the Tarmac

The flight crew was just paged to the desk for a message - an ominous sign. It turns out they're going to use the plane from the inbound Impoverished Gamblers' Express flight from Vegas. That means another two hours of waiting, and an arrival time after midnight. Add in getting to the hotel and checking in, and I'll have been up for 21 hours by the time this day is done.

Fortunately (for me), one of my colleagues is also here. Misery is much more fun when it's shared. We find power in the restaurant area for laptops and cell phones. They're keeping the Starbucks open a couple extra hours past usual closing. Air Canada is even generously providing snacks - in the standard meagre servings, but appreciated nonetheless.

The seats are rather hard to sit on for longer than 20 minutes, but bearable. I really do wish I had Internet access, but I can hold out (honestly!). In comparison, there are irritable smokers milling about, who have now gone many long hours without a drag.

On all the screens in the terminal, the Calgary Flames are fighting for their playoff lives. After two, it's all tied up at one, and the momentum has shifted to the Wings. Although I watch, I feel strangely detached, with no real emotional investment in this game.

Eventually, we're on our way again. The flight to Vegas is uneventful, but most of the passengers are anxiously awaiting news from the flight deck, of the hockey game, now in sudden death overtime. The announcement comes during our descent. Unfortunately, the final score is 2-1 (2OT) Red Wings. However, I did later spot a few high-spirited gamblers in Flames jerseys at the poker tables, obviously putting the season behind them.

Bon Vol, Bad Flight

I learned a new French word today - amerissage - the maritime counterpart to atterrissage. As in "dans la situation peu probable d'amerissage..."

On the earlier flight this afternoon, two passengers were moved out of the exit row, when they could not speak or understand English (or French). The flight attendants looked a couple rows forward for grateful volunteers willing to switch seats, and willing to help out in an emergency, but didn't get as far as mine.

Of course, the "safety information card in the seat-back pocket in front of you" uses no words at all. Much like automobiles sold in Canada which use dashboard indicator icons that are comprehensible in both official (or any) languages, instead of text.

I find it interesting how the in-flight editions of CBC Newsworld and Radio Canada RDI usually have completely different content. If you only watch one, you're missing out on a lot. The only commonality between the two are the Stanley Cup Playoffs/Matchs Eliminatoires de la Coupe Stanley and the Weather/Météo.

And now, I am stuck in the transborder wing of Calgary International Airport, waiting for a delayed flight (mechanical) to Las Vegas. There is no lounge and no Internet access in this part of the terminal...

View from the Lounge

[Air Canada Maple Leaf Lounge, Toronto Pearson T1 Domestic]

Just can't beat these lounges. Spending a few hours here is like a vacation. For all the hassle of business travel, it'll be hard to give this up, especially considering the alternative. Head and shoulders above the United Red Carpet Club, and now it's in print.

Holding Pattern

Q. How do you turn a one hour short-haul flight into three-and-a-half hours?
A. Fly from Chicago O'Hare to Toronto Pearson, with the slight possibility of rain.

If you're lucky, the plane will have AVOD and you can actually finish an entire movie. It appears the Thales i4500 system does sometimes experience bandwidth issues, when absolutely every passenger is trying to load something to watch. Good thing it saves your last location before it... unceremoniously resets (crash is not the best choice of words while on board). That way, you can simply resume your video after it comes back.

Some of the approach vectors for Pearson (presumably for runway 24L) pass over my neighbourhood. On these flights, I can look down longingly and identify my home during the descent. Then I can get back there an hour (or more) later.

Recently, the severely under-staffed ground crews at Pearson have made the delays worse than usual. One time, they even spent over an hour trying to move the new jetbridge into position, trying first one door, then the next, and back again.

Tonight, there just isn't a crew available. One is busy trying to push back a departing flight, while gates sit idle on either side. Our plane sits on the apron, blocking the path of a Cobus 3000, packed to the brim with hapless passengers, shuttling in from the hapless East Satellite Terminal.

Finally, a minivan with emergency blinkers (so that's what they're for!) arrives with a ground crew. They ready the gate, and a small CRJ sneaks in practically under our left wing, and up to the jetbridge. A collective groan is heard. But at least we all have relatively comfortable seats, unlike the poor, poor passengers on the shuttle bus, who probably disembarked their short-haul plane close to an hour ago. By the time we get our gate, all passengers can't wait to get into the terminal building. For everyone involved, it's been an unnecessarily long haul.

Tongue-Twisters

In Germany, a native English speaker has a reasonable chance of being understood by the locals, when trying to read a word or place name out of a travel guidebook or map. If one knows one's umlauts, all the better. It also helps if the word doesn't contain the letters v or w. Otherwise, the only "strange" letter is the Eszett (ß), but at least it has a simple sound.

The probability of comprehension diminishes for other Germanic languages like Icelandic or Swedish (try booking a train ticket to Växjö over the phone).

It's literally a different ball game after crossing the linguistic border into the Slavic language family. The vowel to consonant ratio drops dramatically. Just ask Krtek.

I'd like to buy a vowel, Pat

The letter r with háček (ř) is one of the more difficult letters to pronounce, and I'm told that even some native Czech speakers can't say it properly. Apparently, the Czech phrase for "three hundred and thirty three silver roofs" tests the physical limits of verbal speech.

Still, it is a Roman alphabet, and there's a small, but fighting chance of being able to say something intelligible to a patient Czech. The guidebook I have brought with me includes a map of the Moscow metro system (which seems to have very good coverage of that city). If the map didn't also have the English transliteration next to the Cyrillic station names, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

This post was brought to you by the letter Ř and the number 333.

Saucy Subway Sirens

A few months ago on the subway, I took special note of the station announcements. This particular driver spoke very clearly and consistently. It was almost as though she had some professional voice training.

On my return journey that evening, I thought it amusing that I happened to get the same driver, still cheerfully making the announcements towards the end of a ten hour shift.

It wasn't until my next trip that I suddenly realized, that 12 years after door chimes replaced whistles, and drivers started announcing stations, a computerized voice system had finally been installed.

Still, it's not quite on the same level as the London Underground, which has personality.

Aerolotto

For a change, this business trip was an absolute delight. Most of that was simply due to the fact that I wasn't the only on-site consultant, and I even got to work with people that I know well. At last, there's someone to talk with over dinner, or in the cab, or at the airport.

However, when multiple flights are delayed or cancelled, and many more people are wanting to get home than can actually fit on the remaining planes, it's nail-biting time on the standby list.

At check-in, one colleague and I head straight for the empty Business Class/Star Alliance Gold queue. The other joins the back of the general lineup. Colleague #1 travels a lot more often than I do, and has been commuting to Chicago for the last several months. She immediately gets a boarding pass for the next flight home.

My cell phone rings - it's the airline calling to inform me that my flight has been delayed two hours. I thank them for actually calling for once, and let them know that I'm next in line at the counter, and will sort it out there.

The woman behind the counter has a different uniform, and a Concierge name plate. When chaos descends at O'Hare, it's time to call in the experts. Still, I can only manage a confirmed seat on my original flight (departing in four hours), and a spot on the standby list. I follow colleague #1 as she heads towards the unmarked security checkpoint for premium passengers. Colleague #2 is still in line. Eventually he makes his way over with a boarding pass for a flight in three hours, and a standby spot with no promises.

After making our way through the shoe/water/toothpaste security show, the gate area is crowded with edgy travellers. Some come running in, only to find their onward connecting flight has been cancelled or delayed. Others seem to have been waiting there for quite a while. One need only stand within earshot of the counter to quickly learn that the standby situation is not good.

We find a spot to sit down, and strike up a conversation with some of the long-term waiters, all the while looking over for any activity at the counter, and occasionally sidling up to listen for a status update, over the louder than normal din. Finally, as the (hoped-for) departure time approaches, they start processing the standby list. Did they just announce my name? I leap up and over. No one else seems to be moving towards the desk, so they must mean me, right?

With new boarding pass in hand, I make my way back to my colleagues, trying not to make eye contact with the rest of the other passengers around the counter, or to look excessively pleased. So now two of us are on the flight. One by one, people are called up.

What are the rules of etiquette for leaving a colleague behind? No way of even getting him into a lounge to wait another few hours in slightly more comfortable surroundings. It's not looking good for our friend, until finally, his is the last name called, to collect the last seat, at the back of the aircraft.

Jackpot - three for three on this day.

This is not the droid you're looking for

To commemorate the 30th anniversary, the US Postal Service is issuing a series of Star Wars stamps, and has distributed 400 of these droids across the country.

Mailbot - Chicago Navy Pier