Lessons From a Day in a Queue
I pulled the paper from the slim envelope, and as the voucher for $US300 came into view I felt once more the aching legs, the frustration and the fear. But I also felt gratitude toward two men.
St Louis, July 10, 2005:
The Seventh-day Adventist General Conference session in St Louis, Missouri, had been interesting, inspiring, fascinating and a host of other good things. The music, of every variety, was uplifting. The international speakers—the best from every part of the globe—were encouraging. The people—old friends and new acquaintances—were heart warming. The business meetings were interesting—much to my husband’s surprise – keeping him riveted to his seat instead of exploring the city. The city itself treated us to fabulous Fourth of July fireworks displays, thoughtfully arranged for three nights on a barge on the Mississippi just below our bedroom window. In short, it was a wonderful time. But getting home had been a different matter.
Getting home
With what we thought was mature wisdom, we arrived at the airport four hours before the scheduled noon departure of our flight. We were not perturbed by the long queue. We had anticipated that most of the tens of thousands of people cheering their compatriots in the Parade of Nations on the last night of the Conference would be trying to get home by plane. But when after two hours we had not moved more than five metres and there were 30 or 40 metres of queue still in front of us, I began to get worried. I approached three officials alerting them to our problem, but each simply shrugged their shoulders and said, “Not my problem, lady.” I tried switching the first leg of our journey to a “domestic” check-in, but that did not work. I tried doing things electronically but invariably got “go to international check-in.”
So we waited. And waited, and waited.
We got to know our neighbours in the queue quite well. There was a pastor from New Guinea, and a local St Louis businessman who commented on how friendly and patient the people in the queue were.
“What’s going on around here?” he asked. “I’ve never seen this airport like this!”
We told him there had been a big convention in town.
“What sort of convention?”
So we told him about the General Conference session.
“Amazing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen people being so nice and friendly about waiting in a queue!”
Still waiting
As noon came and went, so did our plane. The small pieces of fruit we’d had for breakfast many hours earlier had long since given up their glucose; it all became totally unreal.
My husband and I took turns standing in the queue and walking to maintain leg health, believing we would be transported to our New Zealand flight eventually. We met great people from all parts of the world. Chinese friends were concerned about our lack of nutrition and presented us with a delightful selection of Chinese nibbles. When you are starving, such kindness is overwhelming.
And slowly, slowly, we inched toward the head of the queue. On a final walk around the the airport, I met RECORD editor Nathan Brown.
“This would make a good story,” I said, trying to be cheerful.
“Perhaps it would be more useful if we all wrote to American Airlines,” he quipped.
Arriving at departures
Finally, eight-and-a-half hours after we had arrived at the airport we reached the counter. The check-in man wiped his brow and said, “A flight from Los Angeles? You’ll never make it. But I’ll put you on stand-by. It’s the best I can do.”
We had another one-and-a-half hours in the security queue, where they frisked us everywhere, but I was too tired to care. We got to the flight gate just in time to discover we were not standing by; we were stood down.
“But I’ve got to get home!” I pleaded with the gate check-in woman.
“Not my problem!” she replied, rummaging among some papers, and staring fixedly in another direction. “It’s your fault for missing your plane.”
While I contemplated shaking her—or worse—my husband had the sense to discover that we could make new bookings on a “red phone” somewhere in the airport. It was no surprise to discover another long queue there. Nor were we shocked to learn after that wait we still had to return to the check-in counter, the same that had so badly failed us all day.
Making progress
Thus, after 13 hours, we met Mr R Pelander. He was professional and kind. It took him considerable time. He had to re-route us, but he found us seats home to Christchurch the following day. We found a hotel, but I couldn’t sleep that night. The pain in my legs was the main cause. But I did have ample opportunity to think.
Nathan Brown was young—around 30 I’d guess. He gave me an idea I would never otherwise had: write to American Airlines. Mr R Pelander was not so young—at least 50, probably older. He gave me expertise I needed.
Yes, I decided, as the clock and the night ticked slowly on, I will write to the airline, and I’ll commend Mr Pelander, and tell the company how they could improve their system. When I got home, I did just that.
Working together
Now, the unexpected voucher lay in my hand. The airline was sorry—very sorry. They would use my “detailed comments” to improve their system. And to demonstrate their concern they sent the $300 voucher for another flight. Some things we get by asking, even when we least expect it.
But some things don’t come by asking. Nobody chooses their date of birth. As we move toward the coming of Jesus, let us remember to appreciate the young and the not-so-young. Don’t stifle the bright ideas of youth with inflexible policies. But let’s not forget that with age comes experience that is essential to getting the job done.
God used the teenage virgin Mary and the elderly widow Anna. Youthful under-30 Joseph was as much God’s man as 80-year-old Moses.
So I owe a debt to both Nathan Brown and Mr Pelander.
And by the way, I used the ticket voucher to help a friend visit family in the USA.
This article was first published in Adventist Record (previously The Record)
