On a Flight Delay

More and more lately we hear about travel woes, especially delayed or cancelled flights. My friends in the opera world post regularly on Facebook about waiting long hours in the airport or on the tarmac. I don't travel much anymore since leaving the business, but I've certainly had my own share of travel woes. Here is an account from my journal, written on this day 15 years ago, of one such "woe" that actually turned into an unexpected pleasure.

Gatwick Airport, London, 4 September 1996

     Our plane yesterday had a mechanical failure, so British Airways put us all up for the night in...Brighton! Having no immediate commitments in the States, I was rather excited to have a free half-day in a place I had heard so much of through films and books. (Would I run into a modern-day Lydia Bennet and Mrs. Forster, flirting with the militia?) As vexing as it was to sit for three hours in a stuffy, non-moving plane, it was, certainly for me, enough compensation to be "stuck" in Brighton.

     BA booked us in the Metropole Hotel; very nice, very comfortable, and my room overlooked the Channel. J__ and I took a leisurely stroll along the water down to the pleasure pier and had a "99," which is simply an ice cream cone. It was a cold, overcast day, so the pier was pretty deserted; nevertheless, I revelled in the simple fact that I was there. Looking at the churning Channel, I was reminded of my first crossing, lo so many years ago--how seasick I was!

     Dinner at the hotel was provided, but since we didn't arrive there till 3:30 and were given lunch at 4, nobody was very hungry for another big meal at 7:30. The food was rather good, though -- salmon at lunch, guinea fowl at dinner. J__ and I met, of course, some of our fellow passengers, very nice people: a man from Geneva with a teasing sense of humor, a sprightly Scot who's lived in Cheltenham for 27 years, a young man from Houston who lives in the Heights, an elderly English couple, and one particularly loquacious American gentleman who told me, "You're the spitting image of my niece. She's about your age."

     "How old is she?" I asked.

     "Twenty-one."

     J__, who knows I'm thirty-six, laughed. I said to the man, "Thank you very much!"

     He and I and others at our table got on the subject of London theatre and who's doing what shows now. He mentioned Diana Rigg, who is currently starring in Sondheim's Follies, and he was trying to remember the name of the TV series she was in, so I supplied, "The Avengers."

     "Yes, that's it--The Adventurers."

     I said there were a lot TV actors who hadn't been seen in America for while, and I found a lot of them were doing shows in London.

     ME: For instance, Daniel J. Travanti--

     HE: Yes, Daniel J. Travolta is doing--what's it called?

     ME: The Aspern Papers.

     HE: Yes, The Aspen Papers.

     ME: And Sharon Gless--

     HE:Yeah, Sharon Gleese, she's doing Chapter Two.

     ME: With Tom Conti.

     HE: That's right, Tony Conti.

     He didn't get one name right! I refrained admirably from correcting him, but it was difficult to keep from giggling. Truth to tell, I was grateful to him and my other delightful table companions, and grateful also to British Airways for our unexpected and gratis holiday, for turning what could have been an annoying travel mishap into such a pleasant experience.

     This morning before boarding the coach for Gatwick, I took one long last look at the Channel. Who knows when I'll be back in England? It was nine years since the last time ....