It Pays to be Nice

Today is the final day of my mini-vacation that started last Wednesday. I had plans to have my hair highlighted (a first!) and my eyebrows waxed that day, at Jolie Tete salon. While I was there, I spontaneously signed up for a pedicure, so I ended up spending five hours in the salon. That's a first for me. After avoiding professional hair cuts for 17 years of my adult life, I'm making up for it now. I'd never had a pedicure before, and it was wonderful. I was feeling quite decadent.

The next morning I had a two-legged flight from BWI to Miami. I have the worst luck flying. We were all packed in and ready to go for the first flight, well ahead of the scheduled departure time when the pilot announced that we had to postpone departure by 13 minutes due to some bizarre FAA regulation that requires that the pilot(s) be at the airport for a specified amount of time prior to flying. So we just sat there at the gate in the stuffy plane. We were told that we would easily make up the time in the air since the weather between Baltimore and Charlotte was perfect.

We finally taxied toward the runway. There, we stopped an parked at an angle and just sat. The pilot told us that there was an air traffic delay of some sort. Meanwhile, we just sat there while other planes taxied past us and took off. Errrgh. Finally we took off, 35 minutes late. The pilot still promised us we'd make it on time. We're all looking at our watches, wondering if we'd make our connecting flights. This is no way to start a vacation--all stressed out and worried you'd have to spend the day sitting in an airport while everyone else was lying on the beach.

The pilot still told us we'd land on time. With no further updates from him, we landed 35 minutes late and scrambled off the plane to make the next flight. God I hate the airlines. They showed zero concern for the fact that we were all going off on vacation somewhere and had to make another flight.

Well, luckily, I made my next flight after running from one gate to the next. It got us down to Miami on time, at 1:40 in the afternoon. It was waiting for baggage and the shuttle--and then horrible Miami traffic--that caused further delays starting my real vacation. It was hot in that shuttle too. I'd worn long pants because it was cold in Baltimore. In fact, they were expecting temperatures in the 20's back home. I was glad to be headed to Miami, a place I'd never been to before but I knew could guarantee me a tan.

A really nice guy on the shuttle was telling me about sites to see near where I was staying. We had plenty of time to discuss it, after all. By the time I got to my motel, the South Seas on Collins Avenue, I was soaking wet with sweat. When I checked in, I asked the girl at the front desk if there was any chance I could get a view room. Sure enough, she gave me one. The other clerk mentioned that most people don't ask nicely, they come in demanding a view room, and those are the people who don't get one. :)

So I went up to my room, stripped, donned my bathing suit, and was out by the pool in the hot afternoon sun by 4:30pm, almost three hours after arriving at the airport. Let the vacation begin!

Jumping ahead a few days, my flight home on Easter Sunday was such a different experience that I thought I must be living someone else's life that day. The plane was overbooked so they wouldn't let me reserve a seat. I tried to reserve one online the night before. No go. So I called American Airlines and asked to get my seat. They wouldn't do it. Don't ask me why. So I decided I'd get to the airport early Sunday, in plenty of time to get a seat (any seat that's not a middle seat is a good seat).

I set out early, not knowing how long it would take to get back to the airport from the beach. I skipped Super Shuttle and just took a taxi so that I wouldn't be delayed by multiple stops. Well, we got there pretty darned fast. I was second in line for curb-side check-in. Plus the security line was short, so I found myself at the gate exactly three hours before my scheduled departure time. The AA attendant wasn't even there yet, although the area was packed with people scheduled to be on the next flight, to Bogota.

Everyone around me was speaking Spanish. I stood there at the desk, first in line, and waited 15 minutes for someone to show up. A flight attendant came by, wondering why no one was there, and started speaking at me in Spanish. I just shrugged my shoulders to say "I don't know where the clerk is." (If you have brown hair and brown eyes, people in Miami assume you speak the language.)

Finally a girl showed up behind the counter, looking a tad frazzled, as if she'd overslept or gotten caught in traffic. She turned toward me, no doubt expecting a grumpy customer. I could see it in her eyes. I smiled at her and gave her a "Good morning." And that's all it took. The rest of my day was going to go my way. She assigned me my precious window seat near the front of the plane - 12A.

I had bought a piece of artwork that was an oil panting on canvas and wrapped it carefully in a beach towel and two bags for the flight. I asked the girl if there was any chance I could put it in the closet when I boarded. She smiled back at me and told me I could do that and that if she was there at boarding time, she'd even let me pre-board.

Sure enough, 2.5 hours later when she was boarding the First Class passengers, I went up to her and asked nicely if it was "still OK" to pre-board with my painting. She let me go straight on. When I got to the cabin, I told the the male and female flight attendant pair that I'd bought this piece of art. The guy joked with me about bringing him this nice piece of art. Whew! So the flight attendants were in good moods. They were so friendly and were happy to stow it for me.

I went back to row 12 and settled in. I inserted my ear plugs and started the crossword puzzle in the airline magazine while the noisy families clambored into their seats around me. One guy yelled at his boy for being too pushy and loudly grounded him - "No computer for two more days!" I thought, Great. This is the family I get to sit with.

The plane was almost full when I heard the flight attendant say, "Passenger Susan B. please come forward." I knew they were trying to seat families together and were rearranging people. I bent over the empty middle seat and whispered to the wife, "I just hope they don't put me in a middle seat. I got here three hours early to get a good seat."

I gathered my stuff and went to the aisle. Two teenage boys took my seat and the seat next to it. The wife looked up at me and said, "Maybe they'll put you in First Class." I snorted, thinking that's doubtful. But then I looked up the aisle and the woman who had checked me in and let me board early was up in first class, waving me up and telling me to bring my bag that was stowed in the overhead bin. They were bumping me to first class! I couldn't believe it. The flight attendants were all smiles, and I was all "thank you thank you thank you!"

They bumped up another woman (Ellen) who sat with me, and it turned out she made a wonderful travel companion. She was divorced, my age, and lived not far from me. We were both ecstatic about being bumped up. The service was awesome, despite the fact that we weren't "paying" First Class customers. We were given bowls of warm nuts, a meal to choose from, and all the beverages we wanted. They even served my favorite soda (Diet Dr. Pepper). It was just too good to be true.

Not only that, but the plane actually took off on time and arrived 20 minutes early. That's right--early. Ellen was like, "Knock on wood." (I, of course, am thinking I'm going to die in a fiery crash on the way home from the airport because my luck never runs this good.)

I went down to baggage and the wait for the buzzer announcing our baggage had arrived was short. Not only that, my bag was the fifth one off the carousel! I said to the angry father standing next to me (the one who'd yelled at his son on the plane), "Well that never happens - this must be my lucky day! First they bump me to First Class, now this." He laughed and we both thought I should buy a Lotto ticket on the way home.

I went outside with my luggage where the temperature was about 45 degrees. I was feeling it in my Capri pants. The shuttle arrived a few minutes later and--wouldn't you know it--dropped me off at my car first, ahead of the other passengers. I just kept smiling. If one more thing went right with that trip, I think I would've had a heart attack.

Driving home I decided it best not to push my luck so I didn't buy a lottery ticket. I hated leaving warm, sunny Miami Beach, but it sure was good to get home and see Martin.