Missing Planes

I’m sure that missing a plane can happen to anybody. Occasionally. But twice in 6 months, for the same destination?

Enters he whom I dub RCP. That’s short for Roman Catholic Priest. He’s not a practicing priest — is that the right way to say that? He hasn’t been since 1994. But my understanding is that JP II, whose personnel has shrunk so dramatically in the last 30 years or so, isn’t inclined to “let go” of anyone …even if that anyone dragged his diocese in court for a few shady moves by some senior clergymen. So that leaves RCP …well, officially an RCP to this day.

He’s had some business to take care of in Nova Scotia in recent months. He’s coming this weekend from what Torontonians believe to be the centre of the universe, for one last item of business. When he came in November, he missed his plane; he managed to get on another flight a few hours later. Again tonight he missed his plane but, this time, he can only get another flight tomorrow. Apparently the subway broke down on the way to the airport.

Let’s admit this to be true, for if a subway is to break down, it’ll be the one RCP is on. I still think that, his propensity to take stupid risks aside, sound planning isn’t one of his strong points. For he’s the kind of guy who:

¤ plans to arrive at the airport 30 minutes or less before the flight is due to take off, despite having several heavy bags to check;

¤ forgets to carry any change and, more importantly, his long distance calling card.

Result?

I drive the 35 km to the Halifax airport for nothing; he calls me from home to tell me he missed his plane …at the precise moment the plane lands in Halifax. It takes 2 hours to fly from Toronto, so a call from him from that airport would not only have saved me a trip, but also allowed me to keep working. No change; no calling card; can someone say “Collect”?

I admit it: some small things tend to get on my tits more than others. And I’m more prone to getting annoyed when my work is busy and/or stressful as it has been lately. So you can imagine that RCP, who’s unemployed, didn’t get a sympathetic ear from me when I called him back and he started droning on about the miserable day he just had.