The unaccompanied minor

nobody@vox.com(karen) — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 21:51:03 -0700

"You'll do all the talking, right?"

Cassandre and I were at the airport, walking from the parking lot to the main terminal for her first plane ride alone. This was a beta test, more for me than for her. She wants to go to France with her classmates this year and before I can send her overseas without us, I thought I'd try something a little closer and a lot safer: my sister's house in Colorado.

I should have allowed more time at the airport. SFO takes at least an hour for domestic flights under the best of circumstances and sending an unaccompanied minor across state lines does not qualify as the best circumstances.

We were told to wait over there.

At first I thought "over there" might be a good place to wait since there were only two people in line ahead of us. But it turned out that this was the line you stand in when you're totally screwed and all hope is gone (AKA "Paper Tickets"). After 10 minutes we hadn’t moved an inch. Cassandre started to fret.

A guy came rushing up to the line carrying bags and saying he had a flight at 10:45 and can he "cut the line?" I was first in line at this point and I told him sincerely that I was sorry, but no. We have a flight to catch too and a child to get through a bunch of red tape (oh yeah and security). "Is your flight at 10:45?" he asked in that "you are a total bitch" tone of voice. "No, it's at 11:07."

He glowered. The guy behind me (a saint) offered to trade places with him and replaced him at the back of the line. I didn't feel good about saying no, but I also knew there wasn't a chance in hell this guy was going to make his flight and there was still a chance in hell that Cassandre could make hers. Frankly I didn't want to have to think about how much more red tape I would have to go through to get her on standby.

After 20 minutes the staff brilliantly decided to combine the two lines into a single line and when a United staffer asked "who is first?" the woman at the head of the other line said it was her. This was not true. While she was still wandering around outside the ribbons trying to figure out if this was even her line, we walked past her and got in it. I looked at her and she said "I'm trying to catch an 11o'clock flight" I said "We are too and I have an unaccompanied minor to get through." She touched my arm as if she understood and then said "As long as we both agree that I was here before you." I gave her the exact same look you would have and said "Uh ok." If that's what it takes, I can tell the crazy lady that she was "first" even if it's not true.

Except no.

The staffer came back and looked directly at the crazy lady. Instead of pointing to me she handed him her ticket and started telling her story with "they tell me this shouldn't be a big problem but…"

10 minutes later we still hadn't moved.

A voice of authority boomed out "why are you here?" She interrogated each person in turn and gave them all instructions "You're in the wrong line. Go over there. You have to wait here." The guy behind me asked if he can still make his flight and she said in her most definitive voice "No."

"Fuck!" He shouted.

"Sir, I have a little one here, please watch your language." As I turned to look at the woman, I realized she meant us. She looked at me next, "Why are you here?" I explained our story. "You're in the wrong line, come with me."

And that is when Ms. B.D. Miller saved our skins and made my day. Director of Services, she filled out our paperwork herself, got someone to take Cassandre's bag, tapped the computer with authority and generally kicked ass all around us. Telling jokes all the while. She said "humor is all we have around here."

She gave me pieces of paper to show that they were taking official possession of Cassandre. Printed on one of the papers was: "Thanks for trusting us, the people you can't even trust with your luggage, with your precious child. We'll do our best to keep track of her. Sign here." Ok, maybe it wasn't worded exactly like that, but the note did thank me for my trust and raise to light the irony of trusting the airline with something as precious and irreplaceable as my girl. I'm not sure this is the effect the marketing people had in mind.

Time was running out when, miracle of miracles, Ms. Miller finished up the paperwork and attached a pin to Cassandre's chest. She hustled us over to security, cut the line for us and waved goodbye. Running to the gate, we made it in time to sit and wait. Because the plane had been delayed.

The woman at the gate told us that Cassandre would board last but in fact she was the first person called. Upon hearing her name Cassandre leapt out of her chair and hurried to the front of the line. I kissed the top of her head as she ran away from me and was lucky that the flight attendant who escorted her was nice enough to remind her that she might want to say goodbye to her mom. She turned halfway, waved her arm quickly and then walked determinedly down the jetway. She never looked back. I know because I stood there watching until she was gone.

"Ma'am? Ma'am! You're about to be run over by a bunch of airline passengers. You should get out of the way now."

She's in there somewhere

After she boarded the plane I sat in a chair, stared at the plane and cried. I was so proud of her independence and the emotion of the moment was just a little too much for me. I sat there until they pushed away from the gate, then called my sister to announce that Cassandre was on her way.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

blind feeding the blind

nobody@vox.com(karen) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 10:20:39 -0700

A friend of mine ate dinner at a very unique restaurant the other night: Opaque, where the dining room is pitch black and you can't see your hand in front of your face. Or the fork in your hand in front of your face. Or your plate, or your food or your neighbor in front of your face.

He wrote a marvelous review, here is a taste of it:

"In line with the adage "less is more", San Francisco restaurant Opaque takes something away (your ability to see) to provide something more. Dining at Opaque was a scary, sexy, nauseating, intimate, primal, communal eating adventure."

You can read the full post here.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

fortunate discoveries by accident

The unaccompanied minor

blind feeding the blind